"Whatever, Gage. You're not my mother."
"Clearly." His tone is darker than it was a second ago. "And about what you said to me this morning—"
"Ew, Gage. Stop." She stands, her chair sliding out behind her. "Enough already."
"Katy."
"No. I wouldn't ever tell you not to let someone in your life," she says and looks pointedly in my direction. "Even if they didn't impress me."
Ouch.
But I brush the insult aside because there's something else going on here. A taut rope of tension strings through the air between them. Who does Gage not want in Katy's life? The only person that comes to mind is Zoey; there's already some connection between her and Katy.
Is that why Katy hates me already? She wants her brother to be with Zoey? I really, really hope that isn't want this is about. Of course, it could also be that I was completely naked for our first encounter. Not the best impression to make…
I stand, too. "I'll let you guys talk."
"Stay." Gage grabs for my hand, but I can tell by his expression that he's torn. He needs to deal with Katy and whatever they're arguing about. It's not my place to stay. So I dip down to kiss his cheek, tell Katy it was nice to meet her (unsurprisingly, she rolls her eyes), and head out the door.
Outside the sun is blinding and as the overwhelming heat hits me, the rest of reality does, too. I'd rather go back inside and spend the day with Katy hating me, to be honest.
Instead, Luca's face swims through my mind and I groan. It's like I'm in a cocoon when I'm with Gage; I forget everything else. One step out his door and boom, it all comes flooding back.
I don't want to see Luca tonight.
I mean, I do. But I don't.
Mostly, I don't.
Mostly, I just want to get back into bed with Gage. But I know better than anyone how important it is to spend time with a sibling, even when you're not getting along.
And now I'm thinking about Jason and how I've lost the chance to argue with him ever again. It's not something I ever realized before, and the pain that slices through my stomach is so bad I can't stand it, and I wonder if I'll ever make it out of this awful spiral of feelings.
This is the thing about Gage. I want to let him in, but when I open that door, everything else comes through, too.
It's exactly what I'm trying to avoid.
I breathe deeply in and out on my drive back to Vera's apartment, hoping to fill my belly with enough air to numb the ache. All it does is make me dizzy. I check my phone, hoping for a text from Gage asking me to come back over and into his bed (or anything, really, to distract me), but it's dead again. I didn't charge it for very long before leaving for Gage's last night.
So, instead, I plug it in and then fall into my own bed. And even though I'm certain I won't be able to relax enough to sleep—I close my eyes and drift away almost immediately. It's hours before I wake.
The first thing I see is the clock on my nightstand. I have an hour before work. My cell phone is fully charged and flashing. I grab it and have to rub my eyes to make sure I'm not imagining what I see. A message from my father. I sit up to read it.
This has gone on long enough. You need to come home.
Something in my heart twists. Hope? Dread? I'm not sure I can tell the difference anymore. He wants me to come home. I don't know how to feel about that. But then I read his next message and I know exactly what I'm feeling. Anger.
Stop acting like a child.
Acting like a child? Please. I'm working. Supporting myself. Making my own decisions. I haven't used his credit card in weeks. I don't plan to use it ever again.
After the way we left things, this is how he opens contact again?
Ugh. I wish I had deleted the messages sight unseen. I text him back that I'm alive and okay, only because if I don't, my mom will worry and I don't want to add to the stress of the rabbit hole she's spiraled down.
After a second, however, I add that I won't be coming home if he chooses to speak to me this way. That he shouldn't bother contacting me again without an apology for his behavior the last time I saw him.
And fine, maybe that is acting a little like a child. But he started it.
The thought of going to work makes me want to pull the covers back over my head and hide forever. And you know what? Maybe just this once, maybe just until Luca's gone, I'll play hooky.
With Gage.
I bet I can convince him to skip work. I'll go back to his house. Surprise him. Even hang out with Katy if she's still there, though I'm hoping she won't be.
When Vera's not in the main living area of our apartment, I stick my head in her bedroom where she's flipping through a magazine on her bed. She's already dressed for work and something about that makes me feel guilty. But I'm not going to change my mind. I knock lightly to get her attention. "Hey."
She looks up and smiles. "What's up?"
"Can you cover for me tonight?"
"For what?"
"With Jared. Tell him I'm sick or something." I drum my fingers along the edge of the door and pick at an area of chipped paint.
"Cassidy…" She waits until I meet her eyes again. "What about Luca?"
"He'll be fine. He leaves tomorrow. It's not like we're best friends forever or anything."
"No, I'm pretty sure he wants something else."
I give half a shrug, even though my heart races at her words. "I want Gage more."
"Don't hate me for saying this, but, girl, you are crazy!" She closes her magazine and sits up. "Not that you want Gage. He's awesome. But you have a chance for a night with Luca James. Do you know how many people would kill to be in your shoes right now? Myself included! I love Gage—but you've said from the beginning you and he aren't together together."
"I know, but…" I lift my shoulder again, not sure what else to say.
"I'll cover for you if you insist. But I can't promise I won't try to soothe Luca's disappointment by stepping in as a replacement for you."
I laugh even though she doesn't. "Let me know how that goes." Then I realize I don't like the feeling that tightens in my chest when I think about Luca with Vera. "Actually, maybe don't tell me."
She laughs now, too. "I get it. Hope you feel better."
I thank her. And then I go to Gage.
I don't call him first. If he's not home, I'll wait on his doorstep like he did for me last night. In my mind, it will be a romantic gesture, and something tells me he'd be into that.
He is home, though, standing right outside. He's not alone—except this time it's not Katy by his side. It's Zoey.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
I stop short two houses away from Gage's when I see that he's with Zoey. With Zoey.
They don't notice me. I tell myself to leave, but I can't find the will to turn my car around.
From my angle, I see them clearly. Gage has his back to his front door. Zoey faces him, a little closer than what would be appropriate if they didn't have history. Or perhaps, as I watch her lay a hand against his arm, a present.
I grip the steering wheel so hard the circulation in my fingers cuts off.
Why isn't he brushing her hand away? Why aren't their bodies tense with argument?
Why is he looking at her so tenderly? I'm not close enough to see the emotion in his eyes, but the line of his jaw and the tilt to his head give me all I need to go on.
Suddenly, last night's confession comes back to me full force. I told him I'd been tempted by someone else. I told him I couldn't give him what he wanted. So maybe he's ready to find it with someone who can.
And then she kisses him.
I gasp so loudly it's a good thing my windows aren't rolled down.
Gage, however, goes completely stiff—and after the smallest hesitation, he turns his head away and gently nudges her back a step.
"Atta boy," I mutter.
But Zoey grabs his hand, making a pleading motion with her other, and he doesn't untangle their fingers. My heart cracks, just a little.<
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Then he cups her face, and even if he's shaking his head while he does it, the truth of the moment becomes very, very clear to me. There's something there between them, still. Not just on her side.
It shouldn't surprise me. He was honest about caring for her from the start.
But a few moments later, when he steps back into his house, taking her—still hand-in-hand—with him, that little crack in my heart up and crumbles the rest of the way.
What the hell just happened?
I can't wrap my head around it. I wait for the rage to come, the sense of betrayal from Gage, but it doesn't. Because it's my fault, isn't it—this pain in my chest? I did this to myself. I told Gage I didn't want anything serious. I wouldn't let him all the way in. And now he's inside his house with his ex, who very much wants those things.
And he knows I kissed someone else last night.
Oh, God. Why did I kiss Luca?
I have no right to be mad, to be upset, about what Gage is doing now. I lost that privilege the instant I said yes to Luca.
But logic and heartache have nothing in common, and right now the pain in my chest outweighs everything else.
There's nothing for me here, but still I sit, like a zombie, staring out over my dashboard, unable to control the vicious, repetitive cycle of my thoughts. I hate him. I don't hate him at all. My fault. My fault.
My fucking fault.
My breath is coming faster, in anxious little bursts. My fingers feel numb against the steering wheel.
I wonder what they're doing in there. What they're saying. Or…maybe they're not saying anything at all. I wonder if he at least washed his sheets from last night first.
Oh, gross.
But then…
Oh, God.
Was last night my last time with him? Panic lassoes a noose around my neck, tightening my throat. I can't imagine never having his arms around me again. Never feeling his mouth on mine. Never feeling the weight of his body above me as he pushes between my legs…
Warmth floods my belly, and weaves its way lower, as I remember what I had with him just last night.
Jesus.
My head. My heart. The pressure building between my thighs… My body's betraying me in every way it's able to today.
My phone vibrates, startling me, with a text from Vera: You need to come to work—right now. TRUST ME!!
A glance at the clock tells me I'm already really late for my shift. The VIP crowd will be let in within the hour. But I force myself to leave and I head in BackBar's direction, anyway. It takes me forever. Stupid traffic. And when I finally arrive, I'm still breathing heavily. I pull into a parking spot and sit, for a few extra moments, trying to get myself together. But my mind is too filled, my emotions spin too violently. Gage and Zoey.
Zoey and my Gage.
Except he isn't really my Gage. I told him I didn't want anything serious. Then I kissed someone else and told Gage about it. Of course he took me at my word about not wanting more with him. Why wouldn't he?
Still, I ache all over. In my gut. In my heart. Even at the pulse points of my wrists.
This is exactly what I was trying to avoid. Feeling things. All I wanted was to have fun, and instead, I'm a wreck.
This summer, this stupid, stupid summer, is not turning out to be the escape I wanted. And now it's halfway over and I have to go back to school soon and…I don't even know if I want to go back to school.
Especially after giving up the internship.
For the first time, I wonder if I've made a huge mistake. I bragged about the internship before I left North Carolina. My classmates were jealous—and I kind of loved it. Jesus. Could I have been more arrogant? Now I have to go back and admit I passed it up. There's not a single person who won't think I'm an idiot.
I am an idiot.
I don't want to think about this anymore, not any of it—that's one thing I'm sure of. So I head into work, ready to lose myself in the ebb of pre-VIP fans. Hoping I'm too late for my shift to see Luca before the show.
Though the parking lot and amphitheater entrance are loud and jammed with people, the space inside the patio is calm, mostly empty. None of the band is here anymore; they must all be getting ready. The song of the opening act, Paranoid Orange, booms over from the amphitheater.
There's only one guy sitting at the bar, grabbing a beer from Clark. I cut across toward them, but Jared calls my name from the deck.
He's fiddling with the microphone stand and pauses to scowl at me when I approach. "Feeling better, I take it?"
Oh. Right. Vera told him I was sick. But if she covered for me, why did she tell me it was so important to come in? "Yeah. Sorry I'm late."
"Where's your shirt?"
Shit. I glance down, tugging at the hem of the tank top I'm wearing instead of my employee polo. "I forgot."
"I guess it doesn't matter." He stands, his knees cracking, and hops down to where I stand. "Your boyfriend is—"
"Gage is not my boyfriend." It's never felt more like the truth.
Jared rolls his eyes. "I'm not talking about him—but where is Gage? He's late, too… Did you guys spend the day getting it on or something? And if so, I won't dock you for lying about being sick if you give me details."
"Uh, no. On both accounts. Don't be such a skeeze, Jared." I have no patience to deal with him right now. I wonder if Zoey's late, too. If she's scheduled today. Maybe she's got Gage playing hooky the way I planned to.
"Hey!" Vera joins us and flicks a finger against Jared's chest. "Did you tell her the news yet?"
"I'm about to." He sighs. "Your boyfriend, Luca James, is a real pain in my ass."
I don't bother to respond, but Vera bounces on her toes and nudges Jared with her finger again. "Tell her already!"
"He got you off for the night."
"He…what?" My mind immediately goes to a place it shouldn't, thinking about Luca getting me off, and the smirk across Jared's face tells me he knows exactly what's on my mind. I frown, clenching my jaw until the images in my head fade.
"He wants you backstage before the show!" Vera practically squeals. "And front row seats for the concert—and he got them for me and Teagan, too!"
"Teagan's here?" I glance around, but don't see her anywhere.
"That's what you're thinking about right now?" Vera shakes her head, disappointed in me. "You really are weird."
I almost laugh. Almost. But the sad truth is that my brain can't make sense of much at the moment. Luca wants to see me. Gage is with Zoey. Teagan's somewhere around here. I miss my parents. I have no idea what I'm doing with my life.
"…went back with Norris already," Vera's saying when my attention makes its way back to her. She points across the patio, to the guy sitting at the bar. "Luca left his manager here to take you back with him."
"I'm not hiring college girls anymore. You're all way too unreliable." Jared stalks away from us.
"Blah, blah," Vera watches him, shaking her head again, but grinning, too. "He's jealous."
"Of me?"
"Wow—no." Her smile falls and she looks at me like she can't believe how self-obsessed I am—and she's right. I want to eat my insensitive words. "He's jealous of me because I'm not falling all over him anymore."
"Right. Sorry. I'm sorry." I take her hand and squeeze it. "I'm not thinking straight today."
"Whatever. It's cool." She twists her hand out of mine, though, so I'm not sure I believe her. I don't blame her. "Let me introduce you to Marx."
Luca's manager, Marx, beer bellied and surly, takes me backstage in a completely different way than I went last night, and loops me straight to Luca's dressing room.
"He's in there," he tells me, gruffly. "Hurry up with him. The opening act, whoever they are, is halfway through their show."
"Paranoid Oranges," I say. But he's already turned back the way we came. "Such a nice guy," I mutter after him.
Then I take a deep breath and knock on Luca's door.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Luca opens the door to his dressing room, yanks me inside, and pulls me into his chest so fast I nearly twist an ankle.
"Hey." The word squeezes from my mouth as the tightness of his grip makes it hard to breathe. "I can't br —"
He swallows the rest of my words in a kiss.
A hot, heavy, rough kiss.
And I give it right back to him. The pressure of his mouth on mine, the tight grip of his hand around the back of my neck, the solidness of his abs against my body—it's like an explosion erupts beneath my skin. I need it. His mouth. This kiss. I crave it. I can't drink him in fast enough.
I need more. I need to stop replaying Gage and Zoey in my mind.
I shove my hands against Luca's chest and push him backward, stepping in sync with him, until the backs of his legs hit the front of a couch and he falls back into it, taking me with him. And in one twist he's on top of me, my back pressed against the arm of the couch. One of us bites my lip in the process, but the pain barely registers; in fact, I almost like the sensation. Still, he pulls up, away from me, breathing heavy.
"Well that was unexpected." I drag a finger across my lip, enjoying the tingle remaining there.
"Where were you?"
"Somewhere that doesn't matter now." Still high from the exhilaration rushing through my veins, I reach out to stroke a finger across his forehead and down his cheek. It comes away damp. "You're sweaty."
"I've been pacing. I had an idea I wanted to tell you, but then you didn't show up. You're throwing me off my game, Cassie." He glares at me, but the upward twist at one corner of his mouth tells me he's not truly mad. "I didn't think you were coming."
I try to bite back a smile and fail. "Guess that doesn't happen to you very often?"
"Patience isn't my strong suit." He tugs at the collar of his T-shirt. It's black with the diagram of a skeleton across the front—something I'd usually think worked only on Halloween, but he makes it look good in July—and the sleeves are cut off, so that his tattoos stand out more than ever. I fist my hands against my stomach to keep from running them along the art on his skin. And I clamp my tongue between my teeth for the same reason. But that doesn't help. I scoot off of the couch and cross the room to perch on a stool, a safe distance away.
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