by Jolene Perry
Since I know I don’t want to leave Alaska, it sort of changes how I act. Like these people are the people that I’m going to spend my life with. The weight of leaving for college settles over me again. I’m supposed to want to get out of here and go to school. But I don’t want to. Not yet. Maybe never.
“You? Nice?” The corner of his mouth turns up.
“It all depends on who I’m dealing with.” I narrow my eyes, only half-teasing, and nervous flutters start low in my stomach. This time, they don’t go away when I will them to.
“Oh. I see.” He’s still wearing his half-smile, like he’s not ready to give in yet and admit he’s having fun.
“You think I don’t see how you look at my house? At my friends? At where I live? It’s like you hate everything about the place that I love. You’re not better than me, and you’re not better than this place. So, yeah. It pissed me off a little. At first.” I keep my voice light, but it’s harder to breathe when I’m being honest like this, especially now that I’m trying not to think about how close and alone we are. I flick on my turn signal and join the line at McDonald’s. With only two fast-food restaurants in town, this place gets full.
“You don’t hold back, do you?” He twirls the stick between his fingers and I wonder for a second how he got to be so good. “I don’t think I’m better than anyone. I just know I don’t belong here, and I don’t want to. I have a life somewhere else. Plus it’s not like you didn’t look at me the same way.”
“I don’t hold back most of the time. I’ve known these people forever, and we can say almost anything to each other. And it would be that way with Mitch, too, if he—” The words are out before I can stop them, and I’m shocked because I never say things I don’t mean to.
He chuckles. “Lover Boy?”
Lover Boy? How the hell would Bishop know how I feel about Mitch? My stomach tightens, and my mouth gapes open—both aren’t like me. At all.
“He couldn’t keep his hands to himself.” Bishop chuckles. “Not that I blame him because his girl is—”
“Okay,” I interrupt, because the Lover Boy comment was because of Rebecca, and not because of me. Which actually feels worse than him realizing how pathetic I feel over Mitch. “Let’s not talk about Mitch and Rebecca. Cool?”
“Hit a bad topic?” Only his voice doesn’t have enough snark in it for me to fight back.
“You got your discount drum set, and you’re about to get free fries. I think we’re good on being nice for the night.” I give him a smile, so maybe he won’t take it as seriously as I mean it. Gramps was right. I need to be nice, even though Bishop just pointed out something I already know. I really am losing Mitch.
“Drum kit. And fair enough.”
Somehow him agreeing that we’re okay not being nice makes me want to be. I start to talk three times before I find words because Bishop looking as good as he does, and playing drums like he does, and being new, and the crazy butterfly things I can’t shake from my stomach…I’m just in a different kind of territory with a guy, and it’s territory I don’t know how to deal with.
I can feel the twinges of nerves pushing words out faster than I know I’ll want them to come. “Our game got pushed back because the kids who live in Barrow can’t fly out until the storm passes. I’m going snowmachining with the guys tomorrow. You like to go fast?”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
His “maybe” gives me some relief, making me wonder what my problem is. Why would I care if he wanted to come or not? “I’ll give you a knock after school. I have extra gear and stuff. I’m tall so it’s all for guys.”
“No pink snow pants?”
He’s actually teasing me. I can’t believe it, and now I’m actually looking forward to doing something fun with him. Finding another way to make him relax a little. Maybe even actually smile again.
I’m grinning, searching his brown eyes in the darkness of my truck. “Definitely no pink snow pants.”
…
When I jump out of my truck to head for Bishop’s cabin, all I hear is drums. The guy is crazy good. Definitely good enough to join a real band. Not like the guys who hang at the music store, making up band names for a group that would rather get high than practice.
I bang on Bishop’s door, even though part of me wants to wait until his song finishes. That could take forever. The guys’ll be here any minute, and I have to be suited up and ready to go or they’ll get ahead on the trail. I’m not following any of those pansies down my trail. I knock again and Bishop doesn’t answer, so I step inside. “Come on! You’re not wimping out on me are you?”
Bishop stops playing with a murderous look on his face.
I choose to ignore it, even though there’s something to be noticed about a guy who feels so much. Good or bad. “The drums will still be here when we get back, but your chance to go for a ride and watch me make asses of the guys on my team happens now.”
“What if I was playing naked?” He wipes his hand across his forehead—damp with sweat like it was yesterday. His expression is unreadable.
A lump forms in my throat at the thought of what he’d look like playing the drums with no shirt. How his body would move without conscious thought. The way the muscles in his chest and abs and arms would flex. Something foreign washes through me with the idea of it, making my legs jelly for a second.
Whoa. This is new. Mitch doesn’t make me feel that.
Silence presses in until I find my Penny mojo and roll my eyes because I can’t feel all this weird newness around him without it backfiring. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. All my friends are guys.”
His scowl is replaced by something almost like a grin. “You’re nuts.” He shakes his head, still partially grinning.
“Come on.” I step back, needing to be out of the small room. “Let’s get you suited up.”
Bishop grabs his coat, shoves his feet into his boots. “I have to talk to Gary real quick.”
He jogs to the other cabin and knocks. Okay. Strange. I don’t have to tell anyone when I snowmachine. Maybe it’s a city boy thing.
A minute later, we’re at my house. As soon as I step in the door, I start tossing outdoor gear his way.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” His brows pull together as he watches the pile at his feet grow.
“Put it on?” I suggest as I finish suiting up and reach for my boots. Still not looking at him after his naked comment.
He lets out a breath, but I see a hint of a smile as I look at through my hair. I almost offer to help him with the snow pants, which have some crazy straps, but he figures it out before my boots are laced.
He’s so quiet. I start to wonder if he’s always this way. I’m not, so quiet people unnerve me. What’s he thinking? What does he want? Why won’t he talk?
I open the door to the part of the garage with the two snowmachines. Gramps has money, Mom just doesn’t want him to use it. But he does once in a while—hot tub, new snowmachines, my truck.
I point to Gramps’s favorite machine. “You can take that one. It’s an 800, so you’ll be able to keep up.”
Another small smile hits as he sits on the seat. He scans over the black and orange cowling covering the engine, at the two skis in front and then underneath him at he checks out the thick rubber track. “Anything special I should know?”
I stand next to him and point to all the important pieces. “Gas. Brake. If a tree is smaller than my wrist, you can drive over it.” I hold up my hand.
He cocks a brow.
“When in doubt, always hit the gas.”
He nods once and again almost smiles. “Nice. I miss riding my bike in the city. Maybe this will be close.”
“Trust me. It’ll be better. And I know this sounds crazy, but we’re headed to Matt’s parents’ hayfields, and the snow is deep. If you really want to play, turn the handlebars the opposite direction you want to go, hit the gas, and lean the direction you do want to go. It’ll lift up the side of the machine
, turn you around, spray snow, and make you look like you know what you’re doing.”
His brows go up, and I’m noticing his eyes again.
“You’re not going to make me look like an ass, are you?” Bishop wrings his hands together as though he doesn’t know what to do with them.
I shrug and try not to laugh. “Try it for yourself, and you’ll find out.”
“Are you always like this?” A corner of his mouth goes up, and my stomach tenses just a bit at the way he’s looking at me.
“Are you always so quiet, grumpy, and introspective?”
He shrugs. That, to me, is an affirmative.
I toss him his helmet. “See you on the trail.”
We start the machines just as Mitch and Matt pull up, and I won’t be behind them, so I grab a handful of throttle and rocket out of the garage to make sure I’m in front. Bishop’s right behind me. The guy catches on quick.
In seconds, we’re flying down the trail at close to seventy. We hit Matt’s hayfields ten minutes of speed later. Mitch raises his hand in the air and makes a circle—snowmachine language for “we’ll all play here for a while.”
Bishop pulls up next to me
I have to yell over the sound of the machines. “We’re all just screwing around. Do what I told you with the skis, worse that’ll happen is you’ll fall off in a pile of snow and have to climb back on.”
“Okay.” More than just the corners of his mouth are turned up now. It’s an actual freaking smile on the king of grouchy.
I’m so good.
Chapter Seven
BISHOP
Adrenaline races through me, making me feel higher than any drug ever has. I’ve ridden bikes, dirt bikes, four-wheelers, but this? This feels different.
Cold air whips around me the faster I go, but I can’t make myself slow down. I don’t want to. I do what Penny said, turning the handlebars the opposite direction and leaning the other. The shit actually works. Snow flies out from under the machine as I whip around in a circle. All these other guys out here can’t keep up with me. The only one who can is Penny.
Part of me wants to try and show her up, but the other part—the stronger half—is having too much fun to turn it into something else. I just want to keep going, enjoying the freedom that I’m not sure I’ve ever felt. It’s like nothing can catch me here—not my psychotic dad who I pretty much had to pay off to get him to leave us alone, not fans, my anxiety, my manager…not even my personal guard.
I don’t know how long we’re out here when they all pull up together in a circle. I’m not ready to go back—not sure I ever want to stop but know I have to. I rev up the engine before flying over to where they are, spraying snow all over Penny before coming to a stop.
“Think you’re pretty cool now, don’t ya?” She rips her helmet off, her white hair flying free.
“Don’t think. I know. I owned that.” My eyes don’t leave her. She’s so wild, this girl. I’ve never known anyone like her.
“Didn’t own me.” She turns her attention back to her friends. And she’s right. She showed all the other guys up. I have a feeling no one has ever beat her at anything. “You guys ready to head back?”
I watch them, the way they all keep their eyes firmly on her all the time. I wonder if she knows half these guys are in love with her. Or maybe not love, but they definitely want her. And respect her.
Or maybe they’re scared of her.
“Yeah, I’ve got stuff to do. I’m supposed to go to Becca’s,” Mitch says, and Penny rolls her eyes.
She opens her mouth to reply, but I cough and say “whipped” at the same time. Mitch scowls at me, but Penny gives me a smile. It almost looks…appreciative? And I realize that’s why I did it, which is pretty fucking weird. But then, I guess I owe her for showing me a good time today and helping me get my kit.
“Race you back!” She shoves her helmet back on and is speeding away before I realize what’s happening. All the other guys start shoving theirs on, but I’m faster, pushing the damn thing on my head and hitting the gas. I don’t know where the rest of them are, all I know is I’m catching Penny.
The trail from the fields is smooth and fast, but each little bump makes me feel like I’m floating before the track catches again. This is seriously like flying, and I’m after that taillight in front of me, determined not to let her win. I can’t even explain how it feels. As good as it does when my sticks are slamming down on the drums over and over. Maybe better than that, too. It makes me forget everything else.
The stupid chat I had with Gary that didn’t do much of anything.
Why I’m here.
That no one is supposed to know.
Pat figured it out—there was no way to keep it from him when I bought the drums—and if he tells, I’m fucked. There was no denying it, though. He’s as into music as I am, and he knows me. Or he knows Burn, I guess. Penny could have easily found out when I dropped my card. None of that matters, though. Not while I’m flying over the snow.
We both slide to a stop at almost the same time. I’m only a few seconds behind her. I’m panting so hard, I feel like I’ve been playing my drums for days on end. “Dude, I’m fucking awesome.” The words are broken up since I’m out of breath.
“What?” Her cheeks are all pink and a little sexy. Whoa. When did I start noticing her cheeks? “You didn’t win. We tied.”
“Yeah, but you cheated. You started early, we stopped at the same time, which technically means I beat you.”
“Are you seriously trying to win on a technicality? What is this, CSI?”
I start to laugh, but I don’t reply as the hum of the other machines gets closer and closer. I’m still breathing hard, watching her straddle the machine across from me. I kind of want to thank her for bringing me out, but I don’t really know how, so instead I say, “Whatever, I’ll give you this one, but we’re having a rematch.”
I suddenly can’t wait for it to happen. Then, I do the strangest thing. I take a deep breath, smelling the cold like I did with Gary, and thinking it might be something I’ll try to remember.
…
My body actually hurts when I get out of the shower. It’s the good kind of hurt, though. I haven’t done something like that in…hell, I can’t even remember when. I’m wearing sweatpants, a sweatshirt and socks as I fall onto the couch and kick my feet up. I’m out of cigarettes but don’t know if I’d have the energy to go outside and smoke anyway.
I look over at my drums in the corner and remember the new beat I played today. It reminds me of the song Blake was working on when I left. He writes just about everything we do, but sometimes I help. I miss that.
Suddenly, I feel like talking to him, even though I’ve been the one ignoring him. I hit the button on my cell to give him a call.
“B.R.!”
I laugh at the way Blake answers the phone. He’s always got a ton of energy. He said he had ADD when he was a kid, but it got better when he started singing. I’m not sure if that did it or if his energy just got redirected. That’s kind of what happened with me. When I started playing drums, it helped me forget my asshole dad. “What’s up?”
“What’s up? I’ve been trying to call you, you’ve been ignoring my ass, and all you can say is ‘what’s up?’”
I want to tell him I feel like he betrayed me. That he should have had my back, but I don’t. Instead, I just say, “Don’t want to go there. We aren’t supposed to be talking anyway. What ya been doing?”
He leaves it at that, which doesn’t surprise me. He knows me, and he doesn’t ever really expect me to talk more than I want to. “Not much. Chillin’. How’s Alaska?” He chuckles when he asks.
It feels kind of cool to talk to him again. “Fuck off. It’s Alaska. How do you think it is?” Flashes of riding today flash in my head. Some parts of it are pretty cool, I guess. “Actually, I went out snowmachining today. It was awesome. Those things go fast as hell. I want one.” Not that I’d have somewhere to ride it, but stil
l.
“Nice. Who’d you go with? Don’t tell me Gary’s taken up extreme sports?”
I laugh because that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. “Yeah right. He spends all his time making me go on walks with him, working, or talking to Troy.”
“So who?” There’s some noise in the background and then Blake yells at someone to shut up. It bothers me for a second because I’m sure he’s with the guys. They’re all together at home, and I’m out here, but before I can dwell on it much, I remember what he asked me.
“Some chick named Penny. She’s like the Alaska Hockey Queen or something. I haven’t seen her play, but she kicks ass on the machines. Got a ’75 Corvette too. It’s nice.” Shaking my head, I realize I sound like I’m bragging on this girl or something.
“You’re hooking up with an Alaskan chick? That didn’t take you long, man.”
“What? I’m not messing around with her. Though she is kind of hot…” Actually there’s no kind of about it. “I’m not here for that, though, remember? You helped send me here. I’m just getting by until Don gets the bug out of his ass and lets me come home.”
He ignores part of my comment and says, “So? You can’t get some while you’re at it?”
His question annoys me because Penny’s not like that. Then I annoy me because his question shouldn’t bother me at all. “I didn’t call to talk about Penny. I bought a new drum kit. Played around and I have a killer solo that would go with ‘Break Out.’”
“Really? Nice. I’ll tell the guys. We’ve been screwing around with it, but I can see if they’re cool with setting it aside till you get back.”
His words hit me the wrong way. They’re working on our songs without me. He’ll see if they mind waiting for me? My body tenses up. “See if they’re okay with it?” There should be no problem with waiting for me. Everyone’s supposed to be on vacation right now, not only me. “We’re still a band, right? It’s not like I’ll be here forever. I’m doing all right. I’m thinking about bailing and coming home anyway.” Am I? Why not? If I can get the guys behind me, Don won’t be able to say no to all of us.