Getting Hot

by Mia Storm

  He shrugs. “Not for me. I’ve got nothing to hide. I’ve been up front with both of you.”

  And I’ve lied to everyone. “Then you get the gold star.”

  He lifts my face with a finger under my chin and holds me in his intense gaze. “You tell me what you want me to do, Lilah. I’m not a great actor, but if you want me to pretend to Destiny that you don’t light my fuse, I’ll give it my best shot.”

  I shake my head out of his grasp, then keep shaking it, because lightning has struck me dead with the realization I’m totally falling for Bran. I know this because of the panic rising like a tsunami inside of me.

  There’s no way the three of us can spend hours trapped in a car without Bran finding out I’m sixteen. All Destiny has to do is mention I’m missing school, or ask about making up my homework.

  All along I’ve told myself I didn’t care if he found out—that it was just a crush and when he ditched me, it wouldn’t matter. But the way my intestines are tying themselves in a knot around my stomach is all the proof I need that I was lying to myself.

  I’m falling in love with Branson Silo.

  Shit on a stick.

  I have to tell him the truth.

  “She can’t know I kissed you,” slips out of my mouth on a wave of all-consuming panic. So much for the truth.

  His eyes grow suspicious, and I realize it’s because I’m coming totally unwound right here in front of him. “What’s going on, Lilah?”

  “Nothing.” My head keeps shaking all on its own as I back away from him. “Nothing’s going on. Just promise me you won’t say anything to Destiny.”

  He holds up a hand. “I won’t tell Destiny, but I think you should.”

  Oh, hell no. My head is still shaking. I can’t stop it. “This is a bad idea.” I turn and stagger toward home.

  Chapter 15

  Bran

  With Carol out, Destiny’s taken over nights this week. Last night she was lamenting that she needed to find a way to get her sister to L.A. for the show, so I know Lilah hasn’t mentioned my offer.

  I should leave it alone, but when Destiny clocks in for her Friday night shift, I pour her a Diet Coke. “Have you figured anything out for L.A.?” I ask as I push her glass across to her.

  She shakes her head, all gloom and doom. “This is really important to her, but I just gave the guy at the auto shop all the money we had plus everything I stole from your tips jar to order the part for the car. We’ve got no spare cash.”

  I drum my fingernails on the bar and stop myself when I realize it’s driven by nerves. “How would you feel about me taking you two down?”

  She just blinks at me.

  Lilah’s going to hate me for this, but it’s too late now. “Mom will cover for me here. It’s really not a big deal.”

  Her eyes widen and her whole face lights. “It’s a huge deal. Lilah’s the only family Shiloh has.”

  “So…if we leave early Tuesday morning, that would get us to L.A. around one. Does that work?”

  “I’ll check with her, but I think so.”

  One of my regulars slides onto the barstool at the end and I start on his beer. “You should tell Mom you’ll be off that day too. She can get my sister to cover the floor after she closes up the gym.”

  She shakes her head. “I can’t afford the day off work, but you going with Lilah is perfect. Even if I could have come up with the money for a bus ticket, I was worried about sending her alone.”

  The comment strikes me as a little off until I remember what happened with their parents. I know Lilah worries about Destiny and that obviously goes both ways.

  A shudder fingers down my spine and settles in my groin at the thought of an entire day with Lilah. “Sounds good.”

  I move down the bar and drop my customer’s beer in front of him. He tells me about his gout and the twelve-year-old Indian doctor that his insurance has referred him to. I listen, but the whole time, in my mind, I’m alone in the Torino with Lilah.

  And I’m watching the door.

  Seven.

  Eight.

  Nine.

  A knot forms in my chest.

  The place is full and Destiny is tripping over herself trying to keep everyone happy. Carol always makes it look so easy. She comes up with an order and brushes a loose strand of hair back from her face. “Didn’t realize how nuts it gets in here on weekend nights. No wonder Lilah does so well.”

  I grab at the opening like a drowning man at a buoy. “Speaking of, where is she?”

  She pulls a face. “She got a job over at that corner market, but I think they close at eight.”

  I start on her order. “Didn’t know she’d found something.”

  “Her boyfriend hooked her up.”

  Shrapnel cuts through my insides and my hands stop mid-pour before I force them moving again. I toss her what I hope passes for a casual glance. “They serious, you think?”

  She shrugs. “They spend a lot of time together, so I guess.”

  I set up her tray and she heads back out to the floor. When Lilah’s still not here at ten, I know she’s not coming. Which makes me wonder again about her meltdown yesterday. I said something that spooked her. I’ve replayed the conversation over and over, and I’m still not sure what. Either way, I seem to have scared her off, which means she’s not going to be happy I set Tuesday up behind her back.

  Chapter 16

  Lilah

  Today was my first day at my new job. It doesn’t pay enough that I can quit playing at the bar, but tonight was also the last home football game, so instead of Sam Hill, I went up to school after I got off at the market. I figured making half of one game was the least I could do for Jon, considering everything he’s done for me.

  There’s a party in the park after the game that we stop by. He keeps his arm around me and I’m good with that. Drunken lust has set in and there are a few guys eyeing me. Jon on my shoulder is like full body armor, totally innocuous but enough to deflect an attack.

  Finally, one of the guys comes over anyway, and that’s when I realize it’s not me he’s checking out. It’s Jon.

  I’m surprised when Jon doesn’t let me go to talk to him. If anything, he pulls me closer. They talk a little about the game and he tells Jon congrats on the win.

  “The enemy,” Jon says when he’s gone. “Linebacker for the other team.”

  “He was cute.”

  Jon kisses my cheek. “Not my type.”

  My eyes widen. “Changing your mind?”

  He shrugs. “Keeping it open.”

  My phone buzzes a little after eleven and I pull it from my pocket. Destiny.

  “Thought you’d be at Sam Hill tonight. Where are you?”

  “Decided to go to a party with Jon instead.” Because there’s no way I’m ready to deal with whatever my mutinous hormones have going on for Bran right now. Especially with Destiny for an audience.

  “As long as everything’s okay,” she says. “Also, I have great news. I was going to tell you when you got here, but since you’re not coming…Bran is going to drive you to L.A! How awesome is that?”

  I feel that same electric jolt I felt when he suggested it. But I told him no. I think. The whole conversation yesterday kind of got swallowed by my panic attack and I don’t really remember how it was left.

  “Tell him thanks, but I’ll figure something else out.”

  “Lilah,” she says, exasperated, “it’s four days away. I can’t take the time off from work and I don’t want you going alone. This is the perfect solution.”

  It is so far from perfect there’s not even a word for how un-perfect it is. But then I really hear what she just said. “Wait…you’re not going?”

  “If we’re going to be able to make those payments on the car, I can’t skip a day.”

  I open my mouth to say I shouldn’t go either, then, but I can’t force the words from my mouth. This is the biggest thing to ever happen to me.

  Well…the biggest thing that
doesn’t involve blaring sirens and the destruction of an entire city block, anyway.

  I look pleadingly at Jon and he looks a question back. I’ve already asked him if he’d play hooky and he surprised me by saying he would…except they’re in the middle of playoffs, and if he misses practice his coach would have his ass in a sling.

  He says that a lot, which makes me curious about the boys’ locker room. I picture slings hanging from the ceiling like something out of Christian Grey’s red room of pain.

  “Okay,” I hear myself say.

  “I’m so happy we found a solution, Lilah. I would have felt guilty for the rest of my life if we couldn’t have gotten you there.” There’s a crash and the breaking of glass, then Destiny’s “Shit!” through the line. “I’ve got to go,” she says and the line goes dead.

  Jon presses his forehead to my temple. “You look like you swallowed a porcupine.”

  “I got a ride to L.A. for Lo’s final.”

  “AHH!” he wails banshee style in my ear, grabbing me with both hands and shaking.

  “Yeah,” I say, extricating myself from his grasp before he gives me whiplash.

  “This calls for a celebration.” He drags me to the keg and pumps the tap, then fills two cups. He hands one to me and holds his up ceremoniously. “To famous friends and their coattails.”

  I tap my cup against his. “So now I’m set. Who’s coattails are you going to ride?”

  That rubber grin stretches his mouth. “Yours.”

  ♫

  When Jon drops me at the apartment, Destiny’s still at work. I could probably stretch my curfew now that she’s working nights, but I don’t really feel the need.

  But if Destiny’s not even taking the day off to come to L.A., I can’t justify quitting the bar. So, if she hasn’t already spilled my secret, tomorrow I’m going to suck it up and tell Bran the truth: he’s a chaperone, not a date.

  Chapter 17

  Bran

  This is fucking torture. It’s been two days since Lilah flipped her shit on the sidewalk and my mind has been blowing gaskets trying to figure out what made her come unglued like that. She’s usually so composed. So confident. All kinds of scenarios are shuffling around in my head. Something with her boyfriend, maybe? Or maybe something from before, with the parents? But nothing really takes hold and forms into a solid possibility for her reaction.

  All I know is she seemed suddenly younger and more vulnerable, the fear that Destiny would find out about us bringing out something childlike in her that I’d never seen there before.

  And I know I didn’t imagine it when she won’t look at me when she comes in tonight.

  Something’s going on with her, and I’m not sure I’m going to like what it is.

  Destiny’s in the kitchen when Lilah slides onto her stool.

  I mix her drink as she unpacks her guitar, then push it across to her and lean on my elbows. “So, you pumped for Tuesday?”

  Her eyes flick to me then back. “I thought I told you I’d find another way.”

  I shrug. “Been looking for an excuse for a road trip. You’re it.”

  She takes a breath so deep I’m surprised she doesn’t burst a lung. “Look, Bran, there’s something I need to tell—”

  Destiny bursts through the kitchen door with a plate of chicken wings in her hand and cuts her sister off mid-sentence with a hug. “Hey! It’s so awesome that we’re here together!”

  Lilah bumps her forehead against Destiny’s and there’s a warmth in her eyes I’ve never seen before. I’ve seen plenty of heat there—fire that made me hotter than the pits of hell—but this is different, and suddenly I get it. They’re close.

  Really close.

  They’re fucking twins, so I guess I should have known that, but it took seeing them together to drive it home.

  All my insides cramp as the hard truth hits me. The second fucked her sister, any chance I had with Lilah was gone, even though I didn’t know she existed yet.

  And I’ve been a royal dick, pushing her to choose me over her fucking blood.

  I brace my hands on the bar as Destiny flits across the room and drops the plate on the table under the window. As much as I’m not sure how, I know I’ve got to back the fuck off.

  “So…” I say, pushing off the bar and drawing myself a beer. “I figure if we hit the road by seven, that will get us to L.A. in time to grab a bite and head to the studio.”

  Finally, Lilah really looks at me. “Seven. Got it.”

  “Unless you think you’ll be able to hang out with your friend after the show, we should be able to be back on the road in time to get home by one or two.”

  She shakes her head. “She tried to get a minute, but she says she won’t be able to hang out. They’ve got a car back to their hotel and then interviews and some taping for a commercial or something.”

  “Okay, then,” I say with a nod. “Sounds like we have a plan.”

  She looks at me a long minute, like she has something else to say, but when Destiny comes back by, she gives her an unsure smile and strums the strings.

  I try not to let her voice affect me. I’ve heard it enough now that I keep thinking I should be building up some kind of immunity, but I forget how that smoky timbre caresses me, and how the pitch vibrates every cell in my body and goes straight to my groin.

  She so fucking owns me.

  Destiny’s busy enough that she doesn’t spend much time just hanging out at the bar, and when eleven thirty rolls around, Lilah starts packing up.

  “So, I’ll come by your place Tuesday morning,” I tell her as she latches her case.

  She empties her tip jar into her bag. “Seven o’clock. I’ll be ready.”

  And that’s it. She finds Destiny for a hug on her way out, then she’s gone.

  Chapter 18

  Lilah

  The doorbell rings and I jump at the sound.

  “That’s him,” Destiny says, setting down her coffee mug and coming around the counter. “Go. I’ll call you in sick when school opens.”

  I hike my bag onto my shoulder and walk toward the door as if marching toward my execution.

  She comes with me. “I’d come down with you, but I don’t want Bran to see me with no makeup.”

  “It’s fine,” I say, pulling open the door. “He thinks we’ll be back around one.”

  “Just shoot me a text when you leave L.A.,” she says, pulling me into a hug. “You’re in good hands, so I won’t worry.”

  I nod and start down the stairs.

  “And hey, Lilah?”

  I turn and Destiny’s sitting on the top step, her cheek in her hand. “It’s a long ride, so if you get a chance to, I don’t know, say something about how cool I am or whatever…” She trails off with a “you can’t blame a girl for trying” shrug.

  “Will do.” I turn and head down the rest of the stairs so she can’t see the guilt on my face.

  “Take pictures!” Destiny calls after me.

  At the bottom of the stairs, I stop and collect myself before opening the door to the street. When I do, Bran is standing there.

  “Hey,” he says. “You ready?”

  I nod and he turns and leads me across the street to his car parked at the curb. I wait for him to click the locks, but instead he turns the key in the driver’s door lock then slides in and reaches across to unlock the passenger door.

  I lower myself into the car and look around. There are cracks in the black vinyl of the seats and there’s a hole in my floor mat where it’s worn through. But otherwise, it’s spotless. No McDonald’s wrappers or old Coke bottles rolling around on the floor like our Neon. “How old is this car?”

  “It’s a ‘70 Ford Torino. My grandpa bought it new back then, drag package and all.” He gives the steering wheel a pat as he starts the car with the other hand. “She’s a member of the family.”

  “Wow,” I say, giving it a closer look. “And it still runs?”

  He flicks on the headlights, hits the g
as, and we rumble away from the curb. “It was our project the whole time I was growing up. Think I was five the first time he stood me on a stool at the side of the hood and told me if I learned to take care of it, it would be mine someday.”

  “He gave it to you?”

  He watches the road ahead as he grips the top of the wheel tightly with one hand as shifts with the other, weaving us through the quiet of the early morning streets. “For my eighteenth birthday, a year before he died.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He shrugs, his eyes still firmly on the road, but in the brightening light of the rising sun, his eyes glisten with a sheen of moisture. “Everyone dies.”

  There’s an awkward silence and I look out the passenger window as we leave the fire station and the last of town behind. We wind down the hill, through a few towns that look just like Oak Crest, eventually finding the never-ending orchards of the valley.

  “So…you’re good with cars, then?” I finally ask as he negotiates us onto the southbound highway ramp.

  “Learned a thing or two.”

  “Our car’s in the shop. They’re going to charge us six fifty for a timing chain. Does that sound right?”

  He nods and flicks a glance at me. The first since we left home. “It’s a big job. The parts are cheap, but you have to pull everything apart to get to it, so sounds like they’re charging you for six hours labor.”

  “Yeah. That’s what they said.”

  I only realize how dejected I sounded when he glances at me again. “You want me to take a look?”

  I shake my head. “I just wanted to be sure they weren’t ripping us off. We’ll figure it out.”

  “Have you told Wayne to start the work yet?”

  “I think he might have ordered the part.”

  “I’ll have him tow it to my place.”

  My eyes widen and snap to him. “I didn’t mean…I just wanted to make sure it we weren’t getting ripped off.”

  “If you pay for the part, I’ll take care of the rest.”