by Moly E. Lee
As I followed her up the path, I suddenly wondered if asking for her help was the smartest or dumbest idea I’d ever had.
I stepped toward the front porch to follow her, but stopped when I spotted Lennon on the dock over the lake. Knowing I needed to give Braylen plenty of time to lay groundwork for me, I headed over to him.
“Lennon,” I said once I’d reached him.
He stopped fiddling with a massive amp’s settings and glanced up at me. “Fynn.” His eyes dropped to the center of my chest where my camera usually hung. “Where’s your camera?”
I laughed, motioning behind me where I’d parked my truck. “I brought it, dude. Don’t worry.” I drew my eyebrows together. “You didn’t want me to take shots of you setting up, did you?”
He shook his head, handing a bundle of wires to one of his bandmates, Blaise. “Nah, just the show.” He pointed to the cords. “Make sure you read the labels, Blaise,” he said. “I don’t want one of you mixing up the inputs again and jacking up my sound.”
“It was one time, man!” Blaise stomped across the dock with the cables. “And I was eight!”
“No excuses!” Lennon laughed. “Plus, this house’s wiring is wicked finicky. One wrong wire crossed and we’ll blow a fuse.”
Blaise sucked his teeth from across the dock. “I got this,” he growled.
“Have an estimate on when you’ll kick it off?” I asked, ignoring Blaise’s tantrum.
A smirk shaped his features as he shoved his hair out of his face. “Like I said before, end of the night. Probably eleven, but midnight will be more like it.”
“I’ll be out here and armed then.” I scratched the back of my head. “Hey, did you bring food in or make it?”
“Mom made everything. Why?”
“Anything with nuts?” The question was one I made a point of asking no matter where we went. It was second nature.
“Yeah, bro,” he said, his eyes rolling upward like he was sifting through the food. “The chocolate ball-candy-things have almonds in them.”
I nodded, making a mental note to let Bray know. She was usually on top of it, but I liked to double check everything.
Lennon glanced to my right. “Where is Braylen?”
“She’s inside.” I pointed toward the house, glancing up at the balcony where Katy had been minutes before. It was now empty. I swallowed hard.
“You’d better go find her,” he said, walking to the opposite end of the dock and clacking a few keys on a huge laptop perched on top of yet another amp.
“Why?” I asked.
“It’s not just our class tonight. Some of my sister’s friends from campus are here, too. Wouldn’t want an older guy stealing your girl.”
“How many times do I have to tell you, she’s not my girl.” I rolled my eyes. The guy never let up about it, but I guess it was an easy assumption. There was hardly a time Braylen and I weren’t together, just not in the way people thought.
“So, you’re saying she’s completely available?” He cocked an eyebrow at me and I nodded, but my fist clenched on its own. Lennon was a great guy, for a borderline rock star, but he had a reputation for indulging in more than his fair share of groupies. Not that he didn’t have every right to, but hell no—I didn’t even want him to think about Braylen in that way.
He burst out laughing. “You keep lying to yourself, man, and that shit will come back to bite you right in the balls.”
“My balls are fine. Stop thinking about them.”
Lennon flipped me off before a loud crack sounded farther down the edge of the lake. “Ugh,” he said, fishing out his cell from his pocket. He dialed a number but the person didn’t answer. “Asshat. I told them not to set any off before it was time.” He glanced at me as he re-pocketed his phone. “Do me a favor?”
“Sure, man. What’s up?”
He nodded toward where the sound had come from. “Go get Shane for me, will you? He obviously didn’t understand when I told him he couldn’t set off any of the pyrotechnics until after ten.”
“You bought fireworks for the party? Little much, don’t you think?” I teased.
“It’s the last ride for the Hampton Eagles.” He extended his arms to indicate the entire area. “Just doing my part to show how much I’ve treasured these last four years.” He held his hands over his chest, his words dripping with sarcasm.
I burst out laughing, heading off the dock. “Yeah, man, I’ll fetch Shane for you,” I said over my shoulder, not paying attention to where I was going. Which was right into the chest of Don Trainer.
“Watch where you’re going, loser,” he snapped right before belching.
“You’re wound tight this early in the night,” I said, shaking my head. “Figured you would’ve been drunk already.”
He scowled at me but I kept walking. No need to waste time and energy on the bully of my childhood…and my high school career. Not to mention Katy’s ex.
The lake lapped the edge of the ground as I walked toward a group of guys who surrounded two wooden pallets a good five hundred yards away from Lennon’s stage. On top of the pallets were large opened crates stuffed to the brim with every kind of firework imaginable. Some—like the one I’m guessing someone just shot off—were of the small, simple noise-making variety. But others were massive and would light up the night sky at Lennon’s say so.
Could he be more of a rock star? If the guy wasn’t my friend, I might be jealous of him.
“What up, Fynn?” Kyle asked as I gawked at the goods.
I punched Shane in the shoulder, who dropped a rocket the size of my arm. “Lennon requires your presence.”
Kyle burst out laughing. “Told you, dude.”
Shane shrugged. “Worth it.”
“Yeah,” Kyle said, digging around one of the boxes. “But now you’ll be on minion duty all night. Only get to light the sparklers for the chicks.”
Shane waggled his eyebrows.
Kyle held out a fist. “Nice, bro. I didn’t know you could strategize like that.”
“I can’t,” Shane admitted. “But you won’t hear me complaining.”
I laughed, bumping Kyle’s fist before making the walk back toward the dock with Shane. “Couldn’t resist, could you?” I asked.
“Did you see the amount of awesome Lennon has stocked? I had to set one off before we had to stick to a script of when and what to shoot.”
“Lennon has a script?”
“Doesn’t he always?” Shane shrugged. “Can’t blame him though. His shows are always killer. That kind of badassery doesn’t come from improv.”
“Truth,” I said, glancing at Lennon once we made it onto the dock. “Here he is, Sir. All delivered.”
Lennon chuckled before glaring at Shane. “Was I unclear about when and what I wanted set off tonight?”
“No,” Shane said, shaking his head. “But damn, man. It was just one—”
“Don’t care. I’m trusting you guys tonight. I can’t have shit going off too soon, or too close to the equipment.” Lennon gestured to the dock-turned-stage around him. “I need it a little farther away from the stage. Just to be safe. Relay the info to the guys, will you?”
“Sure. Where do you want us?”
Lennon pointed to a spot a good five-hundred yards away from where the pallets were already set up.
I hissed, totally not envying them that job.
“Will do,” Shane said without the hint of complaint in his voice. I grinned, shoving my hands in my pockets. Lennon had a way of earning loyal friends who were happy to do whatever favor he asked for, myself included. In all fairness, there was never a time that I needed Lennon that he wasn’t there in a heartbeat, either.
I nodded at him. “See you later.” I turned to walk toward the house.
At the edge of the dock, I bumped into Don—again—and he immediately spilled his drink down the front of his pants.
I laughed before I could mutter another apology.
Don spiked his solo cup against the woodgrain
before shoving against my chest. The quick attack, plus unevenness of the dock, made me stumble backward a foot before I regained my balance.
“Laugh again, asshat,” Don snapped, an inch from my face.
Adrenaline surged through my veins, but I locked my muscles. I would not fight this waste of space unless he threw the first punch. I had rules.
“It was an accident, relax.” I tried to appeal to his human side, but the guy may have been more steroid than man these days.
“You’re such a little bitch, Fynn. Why don’t you get your camera out and film me beating your ass one last time as a graduation present?”
He smacked one of his friends on the chest, who laughed. The other piece of Don and Jarred’s trio, Glenn, glanced down, adjusting his pale pink shirt, ignoring the over-reaction of Don as he usually did. Glenn was one of the decent jocks, and the only one of Don’s friends I could stand.
“Nah,” I said, raising my chin toward Don. “I’ll just wait a couple hours and film you puking off the balcony like you end up doing every party. You think you could switch it up a little? Maybe a simple behind-a-tree vomit this time?”
Don’s face turned a shade close to purple and he cocked his fist back. Before I could blink, he was shooting it toward my face. Blaise launched between us, shoving Don backward.
“Not here!” Blaise shouted. “We don’t have time for your shit, Don.”
“I had it,” I snapped at Blaise, but he ignored me. Don had never had the balls to throw the first hit before now, and I would’ve loved nothing more than to put the bully in his place for once.
Don didn’t respond to Blaise’s demands, or Glenn’s attempts to restrain him. Instead, he ran full-speed at Blaise. The two were wrestling back and forth, grunting while either tried to get a hit in on the other. I tried to help Glenn in pulling Don off Blaise, but it was useless. They were locked together.
“Knock it off!” Lennon shouted from the back of the dock, stomping toward them.
They didn’t hear him, just kept on lashing out at each other until Don knocked Blaise against an amp. The jarring motion sent Lennon’s laptop flying through the air and straight into the lake. The sound the splash made echoed like it was in a chasm, and I hissed.
I clenched my eyes shut, as if I could rewind the moment and stop it from happening. When I opened them again Lennon was so livid each of his muscles shook.
“You have two seconds before I end you,” he said, his eyes never leaving Don’s, who stood frozen staring at the place where the lake had swallowed Lennon’s laptop.
Don straightened his shirt, turned on his heels, and damn near ran off the dock. Glenn flashed us an apologetic look before jogging after him. Blaise raked a hand over his hair, shaking his head like he was at a loss for words.
That made two of us.
“Man, I’m—” Blaise started to say but Lennon cut him off with one look.
Damn, the dude is lethal when he’s pissed.
Lennon stormed off the dock, leaving his bandmates behind to finish setting up. I thought about going after him to see if I could help calm him down, but just as I went to follow, I saw Jade Aaron shake her keys at him and say something I couldn’t make out. Seconds later Lennon got into her beater of a car and they drove off.
Maybe she’d been tutoring him in math? I shook my head, unable to puzzle that one out before slowly making my way into the house in search of Braylen. She’d love to hear about Don getting his ass handed to him, as they’d pretty much hated each other since kindergarten.
Remembering why she wasn’t there to witness the event herself made me want to stop at the keg first.
Time to refocus. No more distractions.
Chapter Three
Braylen
I took a breath outside Lennon’s front door, just a brief moment to enjoy the quiet before I walked inside. Fynn wasted no time in spotting Katy and didn’t hesitate to point her out the second he laid eyes on her. I’d been about to ask him what song he most looked forward to Lennon playing tonight, but he’d cut me off by blurting out her name. And in that second, when I saw his eyes glued to her on the balcony, my stomach sank. They hadn’t even started dating yet and I was already losing him.
Memories bombarded my brain as if the images were desperate to hold on to my best friend who was already on his way out of my life. And as the train of thought always went, the memories flooded right into the one time I’d gotten a taste of what it would be like with him if we were together. Thoughts of Fynn, his scent, and his lips on mine when we’d actually kissed freshman year.
It had been a game at one of Zoey’s parties—one I still didn’t fully understand, with glow in the dark bracelets and a bag of matching colors and a table full of Jell-O shots. Fynn drew the color of the bracelet I’d been given at the beginning of the night and had to kiss me. No big deal, right?
Wrong.
For him, I’m sure it was just a hilarious awkward moment kissing his best friend.
But for me?
It’d been the night I was ushered into a dark closet with the boy I’d loved since before I even knew what love was. It was the night Fynn’s hands had been so gentle as he cupped my face, his beaming smile shaping his lips as he committed fully to the game and claimed my mouth.
The memory of his lips against mine, the way they fit so perfectly and pressed me in all the right ways, was one that constantly haunted me. A big tease of how perfect things could be between us if he only thought of me in the same light.
Kissing Fynn, even if the reason was because of a silly game, had been electric and hot, and I swear he had successfully branded himself on my soul.
Of course, for him, it was the night he’d kissed his best friend and laughed about it and said it had been awkward. I’d agreed, one of the only times I’d lied to Fynn in my entire life, and also agreed when he suggested we never do it again.
I’m sure to Gordon or Lennon he’d said something along the lines of like kissing my sister. Thank God I’d never heard him actually say those words or use the term because it would surely kill me on the spot. It would be almost as painful as what I was about to do.
Pushing farther into the house, I tried not to stand in the entryway with my mouth gaping open. I knew Lennon’s mom had money, but holy hell. This was her lake house, and she was graciously allowing our entire senior class—plus a few extras from who knows where from the looks of it—to party here in celebration of graduation. I don’t know if she did it out of excitement that Lennon had made it through four years of school without bolting to go tour as an opening act for the BlackHats, or if she merely did it because his father—coach of the Mathletes—wouldn’t allow it at his house. Either way, it was clear everyone at Hampton High would be forever grateful.
If I wasn’t here to hook Fynn up with Katy—if I was here as Fynn’s date, like all my secret fantasies played out—then I would be having a blast, too. As it was, I could only marginally appreciate the epicness of this place.
Just off the entryway was a billiards room crammed with a pool table, two dart boards, a shuffleboard, and about forty of my fellow students, all clutching some form of signature cocktail or keg beer. Moving down the hallway, I glanced at framed pictures covering the wall. Lennon at every stage of life, somehow always sporting hair longer than his chin. The hallway led me past a massive living room with plush couches, chairs, and loveseats—hookup and make-out central for some of Hampton High’s elite couples. If not for all the giggling, hair twirling, and tongue smacking, I would have loved to scope out the collection of books that lined the floor-to-ceiling shelves that made up three of the room’s four walls.
Finally reaching the end of the corridor, there was a staircase to my left and everyone’s favorite gathering place to my right. The kitchen, which was even more crowded than make-out central, was right in front of me. Everyone huddled around the large marble island, trying to decide which drink to choose from—buckets of beer, liquor, every type of mixer under th
e sun, Jell-O shots, even a margarita machine—ready for the steady stream of piranhas as they made their way in and out, sashaying to the music that blared on the surround sound. Knowing Lennon, he most likely convinced his mom to shell out for the best quality speakers to be installed in every room.
Not shockingly, it wasn’t his music currently offering the soundtrack to the worst night of my life. Nope—that was a top-forty pop tune pulsing out a beat as I forced myself up the wooden staircase in search of Katy.
I’d hustled just enough to ensure I’d catch her before she decided to abandon the third-floor balcony—the highest pedestal she’d positioned herself on—and join the rest of the general population.
Okay, so I might be a tad bitter. I made a mental note to cool it the hell down. This wasn’t anyone’s fault but my own.
Well, it wasn’t my fault Fynn latched his moony eyes on a girl like Katy—who I was certain would fall asleep during one of his many Photoshop tutorials while I found them downright thrilling—but it was my fault that he didn’t have a clue how I felt.
There were countless times in our past that I’d been on the verge of confessing—like all the times we’d worked late in the journalism room, rushing to get the best copy out as soon as possible, or the times when he’d sneak in through my window after my mom had gone to sleep and goofed off with me until dawn. And there were so many times when it had been on the tip of my tongue, but I could never bring myself to do it.
Having him compare me to a sister, or completely reject me, would crush my soul, and that kind of hurt would most certainly ruin our amazing friendship. I’d lose him, because there was no way we could go back to normal after that truth was out there. So, I was left with no choice but to find Katy and educate her in all the ways Fynn was awesome.
Who knew, maybe she could make him happy. Maybe she’d be the reason he would finally decide which college to attend, because I sure as hell wasn’t a factor in his thought process. I mean, I totally understood his reservations about Northwestern—it was nearly two-thousand miles away from our California home and his parents—but that was part of the appeal to me. Plus, it was seriously one of the best journalism schools in the country, a freaking dream for someone like me. And Fynn.