Infinite (Strange and Beautiful, Book 1)

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Infinite (Strange and Beautiful, Book 1) Page 52

by Brittney Musick


  “I don’t know.” Luke sounded as uncertain as he looked. The rest of the band didn’t seem any surer. Aside from the people coming and going from the house, no one else had ever heard them play. I couldn’t blame them for being nervous about performing in public, but I thought that was the point of the band.

  Skylar, unmoved by their shyness, said, “What are you going to do? Be a closet band for the rest of your lives?”

  “We’re not a closet band,” Toby corrected.

  “You know what I mean.” Skylar rolled her eyes. “After all that practicing and making our ears bleed from listening to you learn new songs, it would be really lame not to go out and play in public when you have the opportunity.”

  Luke rolled his eyes and shook his head. Of course, he’d be annoyed on principle because Skylar was the one who said it.

  “She’s right, you know.” I decided to add my two cents. “You guys are sounding really good. Don’t let all of your work go to waste because of nerves.”

  “You’re biased,” Luke said.

  “What makes you say that?” I questioned.

  “I’m your brother and Mark’s your friend,” he said.

  I rolled my eyes. “If anything that would be more of a reason for me to be honest.”

  “Yeah,” Skylar grinned. “I mean, I have no problem telling you when you suck.”

  “But that’s because you’re a bitch,” Luke retorted.

  Mom, who was unloading the dishwasher in the kitchen, exclaimed, “Lucas!”

  “What?” Luke tried to look innocent as Mom poked her head into the room.

  “Don’t call your sister names,” she frowned. “And don’t use that kind of language.”

  “Sorry,” he shrugged.

  I glanced to my right at Jackson. I could see that he was trying to hide a smile as well. Much of the remaining afternoon wore on the same way. Jackson and I had planned to watch a movie, but it was impossible to hear the television downstairs with the band practicing, and no matter how cool Mom had been as of late, I doubted she’d allow Jackson to watch a movie upstairs in my room. Instead, I watched the band practice while Jackson sketched a few logo ideas for the band.

  When practice broke up, Jackson also decided to head home, but before he left, we decided to go out the next afternoon instead of staying in. I found myself eager—not only because I wanted to spend some time alone with Jackson, but also—because I was beginning to develop a persistent throb in the back of my head from constantly listening to Oxide play.

  I’d noticed Mark’s playing seemed more aggressive than usual. At first I wondered if it had anything to do with something going on at home with his dad. Then, the more I thought about it, I wondered if maybe it was because he missed Tegan.

  He and Tegan had gone out on a couple of dates since the concert. Tegan had assured me that she thought she and Mark would be fine without a chaperone. After their first unaccompanied date, she’d said, “It went really well. We had a lot of fun.”

  The next date went well too, and while they weren’t calling themselves a couple just yet, I had a feeling things were headed that way. I was so happy for them. Tegan deserved someone who would treat her well, and I believed Mark sincerely had only the best intentions. Mark had done some really bad things in the past. There was no way around it, but I thought he deserved a break. Since he’d abandoned lurking the halls with a menacing sneer and actually had friends and a potential girlfriend, he seemed like an altogether different person.

  Wednesday morning I was up before ten and had showered and dressed by eleven. Jackson picked me up around noon, and he and I were leaving for lunch just as Mark—the first of the group—showed up for another day of practice. I wished him good luck and bid him adieu.

  We decided to go to Steak ‘n Shake for lunch. It felt somewhat awkward to actually be able to talk to each other without shouting to hear over the sound of the music. In fact, the whole ride to the restaurant had been pretty quiet. Apparently, neither of us knew what to say now that we actually had the opportunity to talk without any interruption.

  “So,” Jackson prompted as we looked over our menus, “starting to regret not taking Tegan’s family up on the offer to tag along to Florida?”

  I glanced up from the menu. “Should I?”

  “You tell me,” he grinned. “So far you’ve had two days of listening to band practice, and you’re probably in for more. I bet you’re on the brink of a sore throat from talking over the music. I know I am. I’d think the beach would sound pretty nice right about now.”

  I tilted my head to the side and gave a bit of a shrug. “That’s true,” I said with a small, teasing smile. “The sandy beach, the warm sun, and a beach full of nice looking guys.”

  “Hey now!”

  “I’m just kidding,” I grinned. “But to answer your question, no, I don’t regret my decision to stay. But I miss Tegan.”

  “Have you talked to her since she left?”

  “She called as they were crossing the state line Saturday night,” I replied. “The last time they drove to Florida her phone was out of service half the time, so I figure that’s probably why I haven’t heard from her since.”

  “Crappy phone service.” Jackson made a sound of disgust. “When I stayed with Eric last summer, mine was roaming most of the drive to his place. Seems kind of pointless to have a phone in case I needed help, doesn’t it?”

  I nodded. “I guess I should be glad I don’t have a cell phone then. I don’t have to worry about dropped calls, roaming charges and all of that fun stuff.” Jackson made a face and I smiled angelically as the waitress finally came to take our order.

  We quickly ordered: two Frisco melt platters, one with fries and a cup of chili (me) and one with fries and cottage cheese (Jackson) as well as a turtle caramel nut sippable sundae for me and a double chocolate fudge sippable sundae for Jackson.

  “You know,” I began as our waitress walked away and I put my menu away, “I think the only side option I don’t like is cottage cheese.”

  Jackson, who was putting up his own menu, turned to me with a raised eyebrow, curiosity clear in his hazel eyes. “And why is that?”

  “Well, I never really liked cottage cheese much to begin with. Something about it just . . .” I shuddered. “Freaks me out.”

  He laughed. “Cottage cheese freaks you out?”

  “Well, one time—when I was much younger,” I clarified, “I left a glass of milk sitting in my room for just a little too long. It got all chunky like cottage cheese, which I guess, obviously, it would since cottage cheese forms milk or whatever. Curds and whey and all that, you know?” I explained. “Anyway, it smelled horrible, and it took weeks to get the smell out. After that, I just never had the stomach for cottage cheese.”

  Jackson stared at me blankly for a moment before his lips curved into a smile. “You’re joking, right?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “It took me months just to start drinking milk again.” This time Jackson couldn’t hold back a laugh. “It’s not funny!” I cried.

  “I know,” he said between laughs.

  I frowned. “I was traumatized.”

  “Yes,” he laughed. “I can see how that would happen.”

  I glared at him. “Forget I ever mentioned this.”

  “I don’t think I could if I wanted to,” Jackson said, trying to compose himself.

  I glared, feeling foolish and exposed, as I looked away. I couldn’t believe I’d actually shared that story with him. As embarrassing as it was, I still considered it a traumatic experience. After all, it had resulted in an aversion to an entire food group. I could eat dairy now, but never again would I eat cottage cheese.

  I hadn’t even mentioned how I’d been grounded for nearly a month for letting my room deteriorate into such a state that made it possible for milk to curdle. With a grimace, I tried to shake the thoughts from my head.

  “You know,” Jackson said conversationally, “Clare doesn’t like applesa
uce.” I narrowed my eyes at him and waited because I could tell, from the expression on his face, there was more. “She says it’s something about the texture bothering her.”

  I just looked at him, raising an eyebrow, and hoping he could tell that I was not amused. Jackson shrugged, uncomfortably. “I just thought that might make you feel better.”

  “It didn’t,” I stated flatly. “I can’t believe you would laugh at me after I shared such a traumatic experience with you.”

  “I’m sorry?” He sounded more confused than apologetic. “I wasn’t prepared to hear about your harrowing experiences so early on in our relationship. We went from ordering food to talking about cottage cheese freaking you out. Next time, you need to give me a bit of notice before you decide to share something so . . . deep and personal?”

  “You . . . you guy,” I muttered, unable to think of an accurate insult. “Hermione Granger had it right. You do have the emotional range of a teaspoon.”

  “Oh.” Jackson’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Now you’re quoting Harry Potter to me?” He chuckled. “I’m beginning to think it might be best if I just shut my mouth now before I say something else really insensitive—like asking if it’s that time of the month.”

  My mouth dropped as my face flushed. Once I got over the initial shock, though, my eyes narrowed to slits. “That wouldn’t be any of your business.”

  “Well,” he reasoned, tilting his head to the side, “it could be.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “I don’t think it can.” I was flabbergasted by the turn in conversation. “Why are we even talking about this?”

  “Probably for the same reason we were talking about cottage cheese,” Jackson shrugged.

  I pursed my lips and narrowed my eyes. Jackson waited for a moment; probably for me to see the humor in the situation. When I didn’t, he held up his hands in defeat. “I’m only kidding,” he chuckled. “I’m really going to shut up now. I really don’t want our first fight as a couple to be over cottage cheese.”

  “It wouldn’t be over cottage cheese,” I pointed out. “It would be over you being an insensitive jerk.”

  “Hey now!” He frowned. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be a jerk. Maybe it’s just a guy thing, but sometimes it’s hard to pick up on sensitive subjects until it’s too late.”

  “Whatever,” I sighed. “Enough of this. I’m sorry too. I’m just grumpy. Can we just forget it?”

  Jackson nodded and smiled kindly. “Of course.”

  A small, relieved smile spread across my face. My face felt a little hot because, in truth, it was “that time of the month” as Jackson suggested. Of course, I wasn’t about to reveal that to him, but whenever I got my period, I was more emotional—particularly cranky and overly sensitive—than usual.

  Thankfully, our waitress brought out our food and drinks. My mouth watered at the smell.

  “I haven’t been here in so long,” I commented as I picked up a fry and eyed it hungrily. “Oh, greasy food, how I love thee. Even though you will undoubtedly betray me by clogging my arteries.”

  “Oh, it’s so sexy when you put it that way,” Jackson winked before taking a sip of his sundae.

  I blushed, rolling my eyes. “So, in less than a week and a month I’ll be exactly six months anyway from turning sixteen.”

  “You know, you could have just said you’re almost seven months away from turning sixteen,” Jackson pointed out with a chuckle as he took a bite of his Frisco melt.

  “Yes, but six sounds so much better than seven,” I argued.

  “Fair enough,” Jackson nodded. “When does driver’s ed start?”

  “They have a session starting at the beginning of next month, but Tegan and I are going to take it this summer,” I replied before taking a bite of my sandwich.

  I’d talked to my parents about it when I first saw the flyer back at the beginning of February. Dad seemed to be more inclined toward the summer course. He didn’t actually specify why, but Mom commented that it might be less hectic.

  “I don’t suppose it would matter either way,” Jackson pointed out. “You’ll still have to wait to get your license.”

  “I think my parents just don’t want me to get my permit any sooner than necessary,” I confessed.

  “Why’s that?”

  I made a face. “I’ve never driven a car,” I admitted.

  Jackson’s brows shot straight up as his eyes widened, glowing gold under the overhead lighting. “Never?”

  “Nope,” I sighed. “I asked my mom to teach me, but she said it would have to wait. Then I asked my dad. He just stared, blankly, at me for a minute or so before muttering something about needing to be somewhere.”

  Jackson chuckled. Then he sighed. “Eh, you don’t want your parents to teach you anyway.” He shook his head as if to emphasis the statement.

  “Why?” I wondered.

  “They’ll just make you nervous.”

  I considered that for a moment, and I could see his point. Dad would probably grumble and point out every time I messed up, and Mom would just fret nervously. “So who taught you?”

  “Jordan and Eric.”

  I nodded. “That explains a lot.”

  “What?” Jackson looked astonished. “Are you calling me a bad driver?”

  “Of course not,” I grinned. Then an idea struck me. “Would you teach me how to drive?”

  “Um.” Jackson raised an eyebrow and worried his full bottom lip between his teeth before he sighed, licked his lips and answered, “I’d have to think about that.”

  “What?” I asked, incredulous. “You don’t think I’m teachable? Or you just don’t trust me?”

  “Hey!” Jackson’s brows knit together in an angry frown. “I didn’t say that.”

  “Right.” I rolled my eyes and cracked a smile. “Don’t worry. I was only teasing anyway.”

  Jackson didn’t look convinced. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah,” I nodded, “it’s cool.”

  I quickly dug back into my food, and we finished our lunch without any further argument. Jackson, of course, insisted on paying, so I left the tip. I knew he felt it was his responsibility to pay, but he worked so hard for his money. No matter how many times he told me he didn’t mind, I still felt guilty letting him spend so much on me.

  I figured we’d go back to my house to hang out until he had to go to work that evening. Instead of turning left at the stoplight, though, he made a right turn and drove a few blocks until he pulled into a church parking lot.

  He pulled the car to a stop and put it in park, but he didn’t turn off the engine. “What are we doing here?”

  “Empty parking lot. Me. You. A car.” His mouth split in a grin. “What do you think?”

  I just stared at him for a second, and then I voiced the first thought that entered my mind. “You brought me to a church parking lot to make out?”

  Jackson snorted in laughter. “No!” he exclaimed. “That would be a weird sort of sacrilege.”

  “You think?” I couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of my voice. “So, what are we doing here?”

  “I thought you wanted to learn to drive.”

  My mouth formed into a surprised “o” as I breathed, “Really?” Just as quickly as the surprise came, it was replaced with trepidation.

  “Don’t look so scared,” he laughed. “If anyone should be worried, it would be me. After all, I’m trusting my baby in your hands.” He patted the steering wheel lovingly.

  A smiled spread across my face. “So, what? This’ll be like babysitting?”

  Jackson shook his head sternly. “No,” he said as he unbuckled his seatbelt. “This is very serious business.”

  I nodded and unbuckled my own seatbelt. Naturally, I was nervous as we climbed out of the car and traded seats. I’d never been behind the wheel—with the keys in the ignition and the car running—before. My parents didn’t even trust me enough to use the riding mower. On the plus side, I was never asked to mow the yard
. On the negative side, it left me feeling naïve and ill equipped now.

  Jackson, on the other hand, was surprisingly calm as he instructed me. Adjust the seat. Seatbelt on. Check the mirrors. Hands at ten and two. Jackson informed me that no one really listened to the last after they’d taken the test. Personally, I liked the idea of having both hands on the wheel. It made me feel more secure.

  My knuckles were white from holding on tightly long before Jackson told me to press my foot to the brake and shift the car into drive. As calm as Jackson was, I was certain I was equally scared to death. I couldn’t help but worry I’d do something terribly wrong and end up wrecking the car. Jackson loved his car—possibly more than himself. Boys and their toys, I thought sarcastically.

  Despite my worries, things went surprisingly well. Aside from a few instances of squealing tires and slamming brakes, there were no casualties. Jackson only looked slightly paler than usual when I put the car back in park at the end of our lesson.

  When we got out of the car to switch seats, we met at the front of the car. I wrapped my arms around his middle and pressed my face to his chest. He wrapped his arms around me, holding me close for a moment. Then I pulled back and lifted up on my toes to press my lips to his.

  “Thank you for teaching me how to drive,” I whispered against his mouth.

  He smiled. “You are most welcome.”

  After the driving lesson, I felt a little better about driving in the future. Of course, I had a long way to go, but it was a good start. It was almost three by the time we headed back to my house. Since Jackson had to be at work at five and still needed to go home and change, he kissed me and said goodbye at the car.

  I thanked him again for trusting me to drive his car.

  “It was my pleasure,” he grinned. “I was glad to be your first.” He paused before adding, “Passenger, I mean.”

  “Ha ha.” I glared at him. “Very clever with the innuendo.” Blushing slightly, I tried to resist the urge to laugh. “You’re going to get yourself into trouble talking like that.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” he shrugged. “I’ll call you after work if it’s not too late, okay?”

 

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