by Shana Norris
I shrugged, trying to look as if it were no big deal. You know, not like my heart was breaking at the thought of spending my college years focused on math for the sake of a scholarship. “People change their minds sometimes. It’s practical.”
Miguel looked as if he were about to say something else, but just at that moment Rory broke through the crowd and appeared at my side—with Paisley right behind him, of course.
“There you are,” Rory said, stepping close to me. “One minute you were there and the next you were gone.”
I was surprised he’d even noticed, what with Paisley throwing herself at him.
“One minute you’re talking to me and the next, you’re not.” I gestured toward Miguel. “I decided to talk to an old friend.”
Miguel gave a stiff smile and held his hand toward Rory. “I’m Miguel.”
“Yeah, I know,” he answered, though he ignored Miguel’s outstretched hand. “I met you at your party the other night.”
“Oh, yeah.” Miguel nodded. “Sorry, I forgot. I saw a lot of people that night.”
Paisley stepped forward, clasping her fingers around Miguel’s palm. “I’m Paisley,” she said, giving him a huge smile and pushing her straw hat back to reveal more of her face. “You haven’t met me yet. I’m Kate’s cousin. I’m visiting this summer from Atlanta.”
Was she just out to steal every guy who looked my way? She stood with one hip jutted out under her maxi dress, her eyes wide and locked on Miguel’s face.
“Hello,” he greeted her, returning the wide smile.
“You must be the Miguel who Kate used to be in love with?” Paisley asked.
“Paisley!” I shrieked.
My gaze darted toward Rory, whose forehead was creased with a scowl.
Miguel laughed. “That’s me.”
“How do you even know about that?” I asked Paisley. I hadn’t told her anything about my dating history.
“Billy told me,” Paisley said. “He’d give me updates on you every now and then. And I saw some of the pictures you used to post on Facebook of the two of you.” She leaned toward me and said in a loud whisper, “Nice job. He’s pretty hot!”
Miguel’s cheeks reddened as he laughed. “Well, thanks. I don’t think I’m a bad catch either.”
I rolled my eyes as Paisley swooped in, moving closer to Miguel and putting her hand on his arm. I glanced at Rory and saw him scowling even more deeply as Paisley and Miguel started talking.
I’d had enough of watching Paisley flirt with every guy in Asheville. The festival suddenly felt stifling with so many people around and I needed to get out of there.
“I forgot, I need to get home and work on my music for an upcoming job,” I said, making up an excuse to leave before my head exploded.
Rory reached into his pocket and pulled out his car keys. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll drive you home.”
I shook my head quickly. I didn’t want to be around Rory either, not after watching him fall into Paisley’s flirtatious web. “No, thanks. I’d rather just walk. Miguel, I’ll call you.”
“You better, Watts!” he shouted after me.
The sun sank behind the mountains and twilight had fallen around us. Rory followed me toward the parking lot. “It’s getting dark. Let me just drive you.”
“No, it’s fine,” I said quickly, backing away. “I’d really prefer to walk.”
I turned and walked away before he could say anything else. I heard Paisley call out my name behind me, but I didn’t stop as I made my way through the crowd. Once I’d broken free, I pulled out my cell phone to send a quick text to Ashton to let her know that I was leaving.
“Kate!” Paisley called behind me.
I glanced over my shoulder to see her jogging toward me, holding the hem of her maxi dress in her fists as she dashed across the grass. She gasped, slightly out of breath, her hat hanging from her neck by the thin leather strap.
“Why didn’t you let Rory drive you home?” she asked as she got next to me.
I gritted my teeth and walked faster. “Like I said, I prefer to walk.”
“Geez, what is your problem tonight?” Paisley asked, scrunching up her nose as she looked at me. “You’re acting like you have a stick up your butt or something.”
She laughed, but I glared back at her. “None of your business,” I snapped. My life would be a whole lot simpler if she’d just go back home and leave me alone. This was supposed to be my last summer at home before I left for college. I wanted to enjoy spending time with Mimi and Pop and my friends, without having to babysit my spoiled, boy-crazy cousin.
Paisley grabbed my arm, pulling me to a stop. “Hey,” she said gently. “If you need to talk to someone, I’m willing to listen.”
I rolled my eyes and pulled my arm from her grasp. “Like you’d understand.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that you’re a spoiled brat.”
Hurt flashed across Paisley’s face. She stepped away from me, her chin trembling. Regret washed over me and I bit my lip.
But I didn’t want to take it back.
After a moment of silence, Paisley lifted her chin and pressed her lips into a tight, thin line. “Fine,” she said, her voice thick and gravelly. “See you later.”
With that, she turned on her heel and headed back to the festival, leaving me to walk home alone.
Chapter 14
Two days later, Rory texted me one word: Sorry.
I couldn’t have been more surprised if he had confessed that he was an alien planning on harvesting my body for organs.
Another message popped up. Show me around town this afternoon?
Sure. I typed. I bit my lip. Meet me by Mountain Dairy?
“Morning,” Andrea said as she padded into the kitchen. She wore the pink yoga pants and big gray T-shirt she slept in. Her blonde hair was loose, sticking out all over her head.
“Morning,” I answered, hastily stuffing the phone in my baggy sweatpants pocket before hunching over my bowl of Lucky Charms.
Andrea poured herself a bowl of Raisin Bran and then sat down across from me. We ate in silence for a while. Mimi cleaned up the bathroom and Pop sat in the living room, laughing to himself, which meant that he was watching reruns of Cheers. Paisley hadn’t gotten up yet.
Andrea cleared her throat and set her spoon down in her bowl. “So what’s this guy Rory like?” she asked.
My gaze snapped up toward her, my eyebrows shooting up my forehead. Paisley must have told Andrea about Rory. I certainly hadn’t.
I shrugged. “He’s a guy.”
“I heard he’s pretty cute,” Andrea said, one side of her mouth curling into a smile.
“His dad grew up here in Asheville,” I said, trying to change the subject. “Garrison. Reid’s his other son. Do you know him?”
Andrea’s smile faded and she stirred the cereal in her bowl. “Yeah, I know him. A little. He’s a few years older than me.”
I didn’t want to think about Rory ignoring me for Paisley, but I also couldn’t not think about it. At least asking about his dad provided a distraction.
“What’s he like?” I asked. “As annoying as Rory?”
“More than that. He was one of those guys that you didn’t want to make upset,” Andrea said. “He always had a bit of a temper. And he liked to drink a lot. He was always at all of the parties I went to.” She chewed a spoonful of cereal, then continued. “I remember one time, someone accidentally bumped into his car at this one party. Just a tiny, tiny dent, you could barely even see it. But Keith went crazy. He …”
She stopped, clamping her mouth shut. Then she shook her head. “People change as they get older. Some things are better left in the past.”
Andrea looked at me for a long moment before turning her attention back to her breakfast. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that she was talking about herself. I thought about what Rory had said on the mountainside: if people did change, he hadn’t seen any evidence of it.
I choked down a little nausea as I thought of him dancing with Paisley. Sometimes the past still haunted the present, no matter how much you tried to hide from it.
One hour later, Rory and I were together again, walking along the streets of downtown Asheville. I’d assumed he would spend the rest of Shindig Under the Stars hanging all over my cousin, but when she had finally come home later that night, she said he’d left the festival right after I had.
Maybe Paisley had rejected him, and I was his consolation prize?
I pushed the thought out of my head. I wasn’t going to make myself have a bad day. The sun shone high overhead and people were outside, enjoying the warm summer day. All too soon I’d be in a different city, seeing different sights every day, walking along a different sidewalk.
The notes of a bluegrass tune on a guitar drifted toward us as we made our way down the street. Neither of us talked much as we walked, and I was perfectly happy to let the music fill the silence between us.
“They’re pretty good,” Rory commented after a few minutes.
I nodded, watching the middle-aged man and two women playing their guitars and banjos. “They play here a lot,” I told him. “I keep hoping they’ll get discovered or something. You know, someone on vacation here in Asheville. I’d love to see them produce an album.”
“Maybe when you start producing music, you can sign them to your label if they haven’t already been snatched up,” Rory said, grinning.
I laughed. “Do you have a bunch of money to start a label?”
“We’ll make a deal,” Rory said, turning to me. “If I ever win a billion dollars, I’ll give you some to start your business. And if you win a billion dollars, you can do the same for me. Deal?”
I shook his hand, rolling my eyes. “Deal.”
We fell into silence again as we listened to the group start a new song, this one a bit quiet and slower. Rory shifted from side to side, his hands buried deep in his pockets. “I, um, went to see my dad this morning.”
My head whipped toward him. “You did?”
“He started working at this construction site,” Rory said. “My brother told me about it. So I went down there and looked at him, over with the other guys.”
“What happened?” I asked.
Rory pulled at one of the bracelets on his wrist. “I didn’t talk to him. I wanted to, but I don’t even know what I’d say to him.” He shook his head, his forehead creased in thought. “I don’t want things to be bad, but I’m not exactly sure what I want just yet.”
He was back to being the sensitive guy I’d seen glimpses of since I’d met him. I liked this Rory, when it felt like he was letting me in on who he really was. I softened, leaning my head on his shoulder. He didn’t move—like I was a bird he was going to scare away.
“The other day at the Shindig …” he trailed off. “It was nothing. I swear.”
I mumbled a soft hm, my heart thudding a little stronger in my chest. Maybe I had overreacted. If Rory was really interested in Paisley, wouldn’t he be trying to spend the day with her and not be right next to me on this sidewalk?
“Hey,” Rory said. I lifted my head up. His expression had brightened. “I heard about this old junk shop near here that usually has a lot of musical instruments. Homegrown Treasures? You ever been there?”
I shook my head. “I’ve heard of it, but haven’t ever had the chance to stop by. Ashton raves about it.”
Rory reached over and took my hand in his. “Come on, let’s go check it out.”
I didn’t pull my hand away as we started down the sidewalk. He talked excitedly about what we might find, but I could barely hear anything through the pounding of my heart in my ears at the touch of Rory’s fingers on mine.
We found the little weathered brick building squashed between two newer, modern buildings housing a bank and a law office. Homegrown Treasures had been painted on the big plate glass window in bright blue letters.
Stepping inside was like stepping into an eclectic heaven. There were vintage items everywhere—old record players with piles of vinyl records next to them, typewriters with a few of the keys missing, aging instruments hanging from the walls, all mixed among old dishes, knitted and crocheted blankets, and dusty books.
“Oh, wow,” I said as I took it all in at Rory’s side. “I bet Ashton has a field day in this place.”
An older man with a stooped back emerged from an aisle loaded with old lamps. He smiled at us beneath his bushy gray mustache. “Can I help you?” he asked.
Rory shook his head. “No, thanks, sir. We just wanted to look around at the instruments you have.” I smiled at Rory’s politeness.
The man nodded and gestured toward the wall to the left. “Most of them are in that area, but there are a few others scattered around. Take your time. If I can help with anything, just let me know.”
He disappeared back into the maze of vintage items and we walked farther into the store.
“Look at this.” Rory hurried over to a display of old banjos. He picked one up, strumming the chords to produce a short lively, quirky tune. “When I was a kid, I wanted my own banjo to start my own folk group.”
I laughed. “I can imagine you fronting a folk group. With a thick bushy beard and old, dirty cowboy boots.”
“I’m all about some folk music,” Rory told me as he replaced the banjo. “I could make it big. Turn folk music mainstream.”
“Too late,” I said. “Haven’t you heard of Tallest Man On Earth?” I moved over to inspect a beat-up set of tambourines. “But if anyone could make something more popular, it would be you, Rory Garrison.”
Rory pulled an old guitar down from the wall, admiring the construction of the wood body. He plucked at the strings for a moment, then adjusted the tuning pegs. He slipped the guitar strap over his head and sat down on a faded blue bench nearby.
“What would you like to hear?” he asked, grinning up at me with his fingers poised over the strings.
I sat down next to him. “What’s your specialty?” I asked.
“Anything you want,” Rory said, his fingers strumming gently over the guitar strings. He bent over the instrument, biting his lip in concentration as he began playing a slow tune. It wasn’t one that I recognized, but it was beautiful. I closed my eyes, enjoying the sound of the music. A little bass guitar, with drums to add emphasis, would make it the perfect song.
The last note faded into silence. I opened my eyes to find him looking at me, smiling softly.
“Did you write that?” I asked.
Rory nodded, his cheeks reddening a little. “Did you like it?”
“I loved it,” I told him honestly. “It was amazing.”
He shrugged. “It’s just a short thing I’ve been working on for years. Still needs a lot of work.” He started to take the guitar off and hand it to me. “Here, you play something.”
“Guitar isn’t my best instrument,” I told him. “I’ve only been playing it a few years. I’m still learning some of the chords.”
“I can help you.” He passed the guitar to me and I hooked the strap over my head as I settled it into my lap. “Show me what you can do,” he said.
I played a few simple songs on the guitar and showed him the chords I knew. Rory moved closer to me, curling my fingers on the frets.
“Here,” he said. “Try that one.”
I strummed the chord and Rory nodded, smiling wide. “That’s it. Are you sure you’re not already a guitar legend?”
I rolled my eyes. “I wish. I like guitar more than piano, but I’ve played the piano much longer. But neither pays the bills.”
“You should go after what you love,” Rory said. “There’s no point in making yourself miserable.”
I wished I could follow that advice, but from what I’d seen, following what you love only got you into trouble. No, it was much better to keep a reasonable head on your shoulders and go after what would get you further in life.
“Let me show you anoth
er one,” Rory said, leaning close to me. His body was warm against mine, and the touch of his fingers on my skin made me shiver. I swallowed, my gaze darting up to meet his bright green eyes. Time inside the tiny junk shop slowed down as he looked back at me.
Before I could process what was happening, Rory’s head had moved toward mine. Or maybe my head moved toward his. I didn’t know for sure, but what I did know was that the gentle touch of his lips on mine made my insides explode. The kiss was slow and deliberate, hard and soft, unlike anything I had ever felt—not with Miguel or any other guy I’d kissed before. This was something different, something more, that rocked me all the way deep into my bones.
My hand slipped on the guitar’s neck and my fingernails caught on the strings, creating a sudden hum that startled us apart. My mouth burned from the kiss.
A laugh slipped out of my mouth and Rory laughed, too. His eyes looked just as dazed as I felt.
“I should get home soon,” I stammered, checking my phone to see what time it was. “But I want to get something for Ashton before we leave.” Rory nodded and stood, extending a hand to take the guitar back from me. Then he held his other hand out and I reached up, slipping my hand into his. He pulled me close as I stood, our noses only a breath apart.
Then he kissed me again.
“I think we can find something perfect for her,” he said, his lips close to mine.
He didn’t let go of my hand as he replaced the guitar and then led me farther into the shop.
Chapter 15
When I walked into my house, I found Ashton cross-legged on the couch with Paisley on the floor in front of her. The tip of her tongue stuck out between her lips in concentration as she twisted Paisley’s hair into complicated braids and loops. Pop sat in his recliner, a newspaper spread open on his lap. Andrea was painting her nails.
“Hey, Kate,” Ashton greeted me, barely looking up from Paisley’s head. “Where’ve you been?”
“Out,” I answered, taking in the sight before me. Some movie played on TV, but only Pop was semi-paying attention to it.