“I want to sit by him!” Dave whisper-yells and plops down in Xander’s lap, trying to get him to move.
“Your ass is bony as hell!” Xander exclaims, which makes Dave wiggle his butt more intensely. Xander pops up, launching Dave off his lap, and Dave steals the seat.
“Fine,” Xander says, straightening his polo. He takes the spot on the other side of Dave.
I burst out laughing, happy for the distraction. I’m not nearly as nervous as I was. At least until a bunch of girls rush to sit in our row, and while the previews fill the screen, people blatantly look back at us. Some even snap pictures. Flash, flash, flash. White spots dance in front of my eyes.
I sneak a glance at Jesse. His back is rigid, and he grips his ICEE tightly with both hands. Maybe coming here was a bad idea. He wanted a normal life, a life with friends. Going to the movies is as normal as it gets, but I’m scared he’s gonna realize he can’t handle this and get up and leave me.
He’s still holding his ICEE like he expects someone to steal it from him. I lean over and sip from the straw without asking.
“You’re welcome,” he says.
“Thank you.” I wipe a drop of ICEE off my lip. “Twizzler?” I hold one out to him, and he takes a bite.
Dave leans over to Jesse and grumbles, “I can’t believe we have to watch this crap. We should’ve seen Channing Tatum in Hot Wired.”
“There’s still time to sneak into it,” Jesse replies.
I elbow him hard. “Excuse me?”
“ICEE?” He tries to placate me by sharing his yummy drink, and yeah, it works. I wrap my lips around the straw and stare into his eyes, but he looks away to focus on the screen. He smells delicious, like soap and leather and boy, and all I can think about is how much I want to feel his lips against mine again. Our elbows touch on the armrest, and it makes me gasp with excitement, but he moves his arm so our skin isn’t touching.
Then I remember he’s not sure what he wants yet. What does it say that I’m willing to wait to see what he decides? Is it going to be like with Nate again, six months of waiting, waiting, and waiting for something more while continuing to fool around physically?
But that doesn’t seem to be a problem: even though I’m resting my hand on my thigh, palm facing up, he never once reaches for it.
• • •
The four of us head back to Dave’s house because he has a rec room in his basement, and his parents are out for the night at some party. Sure, Jesse has a mansion, but none of us suggest going there.
After raiding the kitchen for candy and chips, we sprawl out on the couches and flick on the TV. Xander thumbs through the channels.
I decide to cause some trouble. “Let’s watch that movie My Mother Married a Gigolo.”
“God, yes,” Xander says.
“No!” Jesse and Dave say at the same time.
“We already watched that terrible Commander in Chief Who Loved Me movie for you,” Dave says. “God only knows why you wanted to see it.”
“I’m considering a career in politics,” I lie.
“You are not,” Dave drones.
“The sex scenes were steamy.”
“That was the least sexy sex scene I’ve ever seen,” Xander complains.
“Right?” Dave laughs. “I find it hard to believe the president would have sex with the lady he’s running against.”
“And that they’d do it on the White House lawn,” Xander says.
“For real,” Jesse replies. “My manager always says, whatever you do, don’t have sex outside, because somebody will see and take pictures.”
Dave and Xander gape at him. Then at me. Then back at Jesse.
Dave licks his lips. “Are you sure you’re not bi—”
“How about we play a game?” I ask loudly.
Jesse then proceeds to kick our asses at Dance Dance Revolution and Guitar Hero, which totally sucks, because I always win these games. I get that he does this for a living, but I’ve always been the best at DDR!
He sits down next to my pouting self and whispers, “You’re cute when you’re in a bad mood.”
“Hmph.”
“This is really fun.”
“Really?” I raise an eyebrow at him. “We’re just hanging out in a basement. I figured you’d think this was boring.”
Jesse looks at Xander and Dave battling on DDR. “I haven’t done anything like this in a long time.”
Dave screams “Nooo!” when he loses to Xander, then perches on the armrest and speaks low to me, “Do you care if I go up to my room with Xander?”
I don’t mind if they want to make out. “Have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”
“Yell if you hear my parents’ car, okay?” he says, and they disappear up the stairs.
“So, are they serious?” Jesse asks.
“They just started seeing each other a few weeks ago, but it seems to be going well, even though Xander’s a freshman at MTSU, and that makes Dave kind of nervous because they don’t see each other at school every day,” I ramble.
We sit in silence, picking at the M&Ms until he speaks up again. “I’m glad we went out tonight. I was worried you’d say no.”
“I nearly did.” I lean my head against his shoulder, but he stands and leaves me sitting alone on the couch.
Which doesn’t make any sense. The first thing he said to me on shadow day was “Wanna have sex?” and now he doesn’t want to hold my hand?
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
He leans against the staircase railing, crossing his arms. “I haven’t dated anybody in a while, you know?”
“I haven’t either. Not for real, anyway.”
“I need time,” he says quietly. “Just to make sure.”
“Sure of what?”
He points back and forth between us. What does that mean? He wants to be sure of me? Of dating in general? What if he leaves me standing alone in the dark night again?
“Jess, why did you come back?”
A tiny smile starts on his face. “Everywhere I went, I kept thinking of you. I’d put on my spurs for a show and remember how you said they’re ugly. I’d drive past a playground and want to swing with you. I went to the listening room at the Underground to write, and when I closed my eyes and tried to think of words, all I could see was your face.”
I suck in a breath. “Those are the most beautiful lyrics I’ve ever heard.”
He laughs. “They’re nowhere near as good as ‘I’m a swatch of quilt and I want to be sewn into your heart.”
I scowl, then pause for a long moment to think. “You aren’t going to get my hopes up and leave again, right?”
He chews on his lower lip, his eyes never leaving mine. “I don’t want to. That’s why I need to take things slow.” He drags a hand through his hair. “I’m goin’ out of town for ten days. I’m on Saturday Night Live, and then I’ve got some appearances on the talk shows and photo shoots to do before I start my last tour. Can we go out again when I get back?”
I nod, pulling a couch pillow to my chest. The situation doesn’t make me feel comfortable, but if this is what he needs, then I should support him. But it’s a lot of trust to place in him. I trusted Nate, and he let me down. I survived it.
But I don’t think my heart will survive being broken by Jesse.
He finally breaks the silence. “Want to play another game of Guitar Hero?”
I hop to my feet. “You’re so going down this time, Jesse Scott.”
• • •
On Halloween, Dave follows me home from school because he says he needs girl talk.
“I’m just not sure what to do about him,” Dave says, letting the screen door slam behind us. We go to the kitchen in search of snacks.
“You like him, right?” I pull a box of crackers out of the cabinet.
“And he likes you too. He can’t keep his hands off you, bud.”
“I’ve never felt like this before…and he wants more. Like, he wants to have sex.”
I squeal and get excited. “And?”
Dave’s face heats from pink to a dark maroon. “He doesn’t think it’s a big deal. To him, it’s something that just happens when people are dating. And I kind of get that, but I don’t know whether it will be a big deal for me or not. It feels like a big deal…like, I hate to bring it up, but it sucks what happened with you and Nate.”
My heart begins to pound at the memory, and not in a good way. “Only do it if you want to, Dave.”
My friend reaches into the cracker box and pulls out a handful. “Would you do it with Jesse?”
Considering we didn’t even kiss after the movie, I don’t know if sex will ever be on the table. “If we were in a relationship and I was certain we were solid, then yeah, I’d do it with Jesse. But…”
Dave pops a cracker in his mouth. “Hmm?”
“We’ve only texted a couple of times this week. I guess he’s been busy on his trip.”
“My, he’s always going to be busy. Until he retires, anyway.”
“I’m afraid…it’s not that I think he’ll forget about me…” Reporters have been speculating as to what’s going on with us. Some magazines say we’re dating; others say that I’m not Jesse’s type and I’m just a flavor of the month. Us Weekly wrote that a source very close to Jesse Scott said I’m his good friend. Who is this source? Could it be true that he only considers me a friend?
“I worry he’ll find somebody better,” I say softly. “Like Nate did with Hannah.”
“Everybody worries about being let down. Even famous people.”
Dave and I smile at each other and dig into the crackers until Mom comes home and drops a stack of mail on the table. I sort through it, tossing coupons and credit card offers to the side, and come across a crisp, white envelope with my name on it. I check the return address and my heart stops. So You Wanna Be a Rocker?
My pulse thumps wildly. I rip open the envelope and scan the letter.
Rêve Records and NBC studios are pleased to invite you to the semifinal auditions of Wannabe Rocker! You are one of a select group of five hundred contestants who have been chosen…New York City…December 1–4… Our producers love your country accent and eighties vibe…
I scream and dance around the kitchen. I made it to the top five hundred on the show!
Dave rips the letter out of my hand and reads it, then starts to dance and scream with me. “Holy shit! Holy shit!”
“Holy shit! Holy shit!” I yell back.
“What’s going on?” Mom asks when she comes back in the kitchen, folding her Cedar Hill cleaning uniform. “I heard all that foul language and figured Sam and Jordan were here.”
“Look at this, Mrs. Henry!” Dave shows her the paper, and Mom freaks out. She hugs me and says she’s so proud.
I collapse to the floor with a thud to go over the letter in more detail. That’s when I read the fine print: the top five hundred singers are invited to New York City in December to perform in person. From there, the show will whittle the number of contestants down to thirty. But the show won’t pay for the top five hundred to come to New York for the weeklong auditions, and since I’m not eighteen yet, I have to bring a parent or guardian.
“What a cheap show!” I complain. A cheap show I desperately want to be on. Several of the artists who’ve won and even those who only made it to the top ten have gone on to get huge record deals. Jesse has his three Grammys, Tammy Goldstein is on Broadway, and Minka Carlton even won an Oscar!
Dave pulls out his phone and swipes it on. “Let’s see how much flights and a hotel would cost.” A minute later, a shadow crosses his face. “Flights are pretty expensive…probably because it’s between Thanksgiving and Christmas…hotels are steep too. Looks like it’ll cost you between $1,500 and $2,000.”
“I have about $150 in my bank account,” I murmur.
“What about driving?” Dave asks.
“I don’t think my car will make it,” Mom says. “It needs a new carburetor.” She looks at me. “And don’t even think about it. We’re not riding your motorcycle to New York.”
“Damn.”
At the beginning of each season of Wannabe Rocker, they show snippets of audition week in New York. Normally they only show the horrible people and the best people—the contestants they want to win. There’s a chance I may not even be featured. Unless I’m one of the horrible people…
“We’ll figure it out,” Mom says and hugs me again.
After Dave leaves to put on his costume for tonight’s Halloween field party at Morton’s (he and Xander are going as Mario and Luigi, and I’m going as Princess Peach), I wait anxiously for Dad to get home from the shop. When he pushes open the screen door, wearing coveralls covered in black grease, I pounce on him with the news.
“Congratulations, baby girl,” he says, wrapping me in a huge hug. “I’m so proud of you for going solo.” Dad yawns and goes to start a pot of coffee.
“There’s a catch,” I say. “We have to pay for travel. It’s expensive to get to New York. I’ve got $150, and I bet I can save up another hundred or two in the next month, but I’ll need a lot more for two plane tickets and a hotel…maybe a thousand.”
He stops scooping grounds into the coffeemaker and turns to look at me. “Baby girl, you know that I used every spare cent we had toward the down payment on this house…and I can’t miss a mortgage payment. I might be able to spare a couple hundred, but not a thousand.”
“But, Dan,” Mom interrupts, placing a hand on his chest.
“I’m sorry, love. I don’t think we can save up enough in a month. Maybe if I’d had a bit more warning, I could’ve put some aside, but I just don’t have it right now.”
I hurry out of the kitchen to my bedroom, blinking back tears. Sometimes it really sucks that my family doesn’t have money. My brother played football for Michigan for four years, but we only made it to two games because we couldn’t afford to travel. Dave’s dad works out at the Air Force base and his mom is a teacher, and while they aren’t rich or anything, they could afford a trip to New York. And don’t even get me started on Jesse Scott. I’m not jealous of being rich, but I wish I had the chance to have options. Even if I pick up a ton of hours down at Caldwell’s, I could never save up this kind of money in a month. I lie down on my bed and clutch my pillow. What other options do I have?
My brother only recently started making money, and while Jordan’s family is wealthy, I’d never ask her for help. If she or her family found out about it, I know they’d butt in and pay to send me to New York, but that would embarrass my father and brother. They are both very proud men.
Do I have anything I could sell? The only things I own of worth are my two guitars, the boots Jesse gave me, my Suzuki I fixed up, and the Bose iPod dock I saved and saved for.
Mom knocks and comes in my room to join me on the bed. We sit in silence together for a while, her holding my hand.
“Are you gonna call Jesse and tell him the news?”
I shake my head. “I can’t tell him.”
“Why not?”
We’re not in a relationship. I don’t have any idea what we are, we haven’t talked in several days, and I don’t want him thinking I’m asking for favors. He hates when people do that.
“I have to do this on my own.”
Mom smiles and squeezes my hand. “That’s my girl.”
Dare You to Move
Dave comes with me.
We meet the guy in the Walmart parking lot—a safe place with lots of lights.
“I’ll give you $300 for it,” the man says, eyeing the Suzuki I slaved over for six month
s, the motorcycle I ride every day. I spent hours working on the fuel line; it took three months to find the right parts to upgrade the transmission. I put my heart into this bike.
“How about $350?” I say in a strong voice, not letting my voice waver, not letting a tear fall down my face.
“$310?”
Dave just looks at me. He doesn’t know what it’s worth. I swallow hard and run my hand across the seat, feeling the care I poured into it.
I guess, in a way, the bike is getting me to New York for the auditions—even if I’m not riding it there. I can only pray that the time and money I’m dedicating to this trip will amount to something as cool as this Suzuki.
“$330?” I ask.
“$325.”
“Sold.”
• • •
With three weeks until the semifinals in New York, I’m working my fifth shift of the week at Caldwell’s. I’ve clocked nearly twenty hours, and boy, am I exhausted. It’s a good exhausted though. With the money I got for the Suzuki and my Bose iPod dock, plus the cash I have saved, I’m up to $750. Even though they are so not me, I would never consider selling the boots Jesse gave me.
After taxes, this week’s paycheck will probably be about $125. I’m getting closer, but I still can’t afford five nights staying in a $200 per night hotel, and every time I check online, the cost of plane tickets goes up, up, up. It must be so expensive because everyone’s heading to New York to see the decorations after Thanksgiving.
My phone rings right as I’m finishing ringing up a customer. I glance around to make sure Mr. Caldwell and Dad aren’t in the lobby and answer my cell.
“Jesse!”
“Hey, My.”
We’ve barely spoken since that night we went to the movies, and it’s good to hear his voice. I jog in place and grin. “How are you?”
“Good. I get home tomorrow. This was a hell of a trip.”
“You did great on SNL.”
“I’m never doing that again. It was way past my bedtime,” he jokes, and I smile into the phone. “I’ve missed you,” he says.
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