She shoves my thigh. “Please. You know you are,” she says with laughing eyes. She inhales a deep breath, and then lets it out. “We should probably get home before Jenna disowns me.”
We head toward the house leaving the cobblestone streets of the village for the white, cement sidewalk.
“This was fun,” she says. “Thanks for rescuing me this evening.”
I consider her and where we’re headed back to. “My mom can be a little invasive. I hope she didn’t do something to run you out of the house.”
She scrunches up her face and waves a hand through the air.
“Ah, so she did,” I say.
“I think she was trying to be helpful. I’m sure she’s just stepping in for my dad since he’s not really the talkative type.”
“Guys are dicks…even dads. I swear the only reason my mom and your dad get along like they do is because my mom does all the talking, and he doesn’t have to do anything.”
She nods with a small smile. “You may be onto something there.”
I kick a rock. It lands on the bank of a pond and topples down to the water. “What she wanted to talk to you about, is it something you need to talk to somebody about, just not her?”
She lets out an exhaustive breath. “Honestly, I’d be fine if I never had to talk about it again.”
“Understood. Let’s lock it away in the vault.” I stop and turn to her. “Hand it here.”
I hold out a hand to her palm up. She gives me a curious look.
I nod at her hand. “I’m serious. Give me the thing.”
She considers her own hand and then drops an imaginary something into my hand. I toss it toward the pond.
“Gone.”
She gazes up at me and takes my hand. “Thank you.”
My heart pounds inside my chest, and I feel like an overgrown kid. I take her other hand and squeeze it. “You’re welcome.”
I want to kiss this girl more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life…more than I want to play football, more than I want to freaking breathe.
I imagine the world of reasons why that’s such an idiotic idea, and I stand up straight. “Come on, sis. Let’s go sing some karaoke.”
Chapter Sixteen
Chloe
As I head upstairs I expect Jenna to be furious with me, but when I open the door, she’s lying on the bed on her phone. She points at it and mouths, “Dad.”
I nod and head into the shower. When I come out, she’s on her belly flipping through her phone.
“Are you mad at me?” I ask.
She weaves her eyebrows together. “Why would I be mad?”
“Because I left you with my dad and Cynthia?”
“Oh, I don’t care about that.” She drops her phone and sits up cross-legged on the bed. “What happened? Why’d you run off?”
As high maintenance as she is, she’s so laid back about so many things. Just another reason I love her.
I turn around and tighten the towel around my body. “Cynthia was asking me about that night on the boat.”
“Oh, God,” she says. “That’s not weird or anything. What was she saying?”
I run a comb through my hair. “She wanted to be there for me or something.”
“That’s sweet of her, but awk-ward,” Jenna sings. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Of course.”
She stands and wraps her arms around my waist, either unaware or unconcerned about the fact that I’m naked under this towel.
“I love you,” she says. “And I want to castrate boys who are mean to you.”
I smile at her reflection in the mirror. “Now that’s what I call friendship.”
I grab some underwear and a bra and go for the bathroom so I can change. When I open the door, Landon is opening the other door, and we’re face to face—me wrapped in a towel, him missing his shirt.
Holy crap on a stick.
Standing face to face, his tanned, smooth muscles just about take my breath away. Toned and chiseled, Michelangelo could have sculpted him into shape personally for all I know. Long and lean, not too beefy, but solid as a boulder, and a little patch of hair on his chest indicates his age and the fact that he’s a man…not a boy anymore.
I lock gazes with him, and his cobalt blue eyes bear into mine.
“Sorry. I thought you were finished,” he says.
“No, I was. I am. I was just going to change.” I grip my bra and panties and hold them up, then realize what I’m doing and shove them inside the towel. I grab the towel at the top with the other hand for security. “Please, go ahead.”
As I back out of the bathroom, he smiles, the dimple on his left cheek taunting me. I collapse on my bed and toss the bra and panties aside, a swarm of butterflies taking up residence in my chest.
Jenna’s eyes grow wide. “What’s going on between the two of you,” she whispers.
I cover my lips with my finger. “Shh.”
She gives me her exhausted look. “You were with him when you were supposed to be at dinner.”
I move over to her bed so we can hear each other whisper. “I was sitting on a bench, and he picked me up. His shift was over at six so we went and got a sandwich at the little village on the other side of the complex.”
“There’s a village?” she asks.
“Yeah, it’s pretty cool. They have volleyball and tetherball and stuff. Shops and restaurants.”
“So what took you so long to get back here?” She’s wearing that mischievous grin that usually gets us in trouble.
I shake my head, trying to minimize the damage. “We just got to talking.”
She waggles her eyebrows.
I purse my lips at her. “He’s going to be my stepbrother, Jenna.”
“So what? It’s not like you’re going to be living with him.”
“You want me to have a summer fling with my future stepbrother?” Saying the words out loud gives them a strange validity mixed with a sense of ridiculous giddiness.
She widens her already huge eyes. “Why not? He’s hot. And as much shit as I give him, I think he’s actually a pretty decent guy.” She claps her hands once, loudly. “Okay, outfits.” And she’s off to the closet, leaving me to consider the inconsiderable.
“Good god,” Jenna says. “I think someone yacked up a crayon box in here.”
She’s not too far off. This place is nutso with crazy neon colors on the walls, floors, tables, chairs, and everything else in between. There are kids our age here and a fair share of little kids as well. I’m not quite as intimidated as I was until I spot what must be the cool kid section in the back, which is a raised platform with a few couches and beanbags lying around housing an assortment of sunburned teens holding colorful drinks.
Jenna points to a four-top table with pink barstools, and we follow her to it.
She pulls a karaoke menu out of the centerpiece. “Why don’t you call some of your cute friends to come join us?”
I grasp Landon’s forearm. “I beg you not to.”
He chuckles. “I doubt I could get many of them to come here…even for you, Jenna.”
She challenges him with a look. “You sure about that?”
“Fairly.”
She holds out her hand. “Give me your phone.”
He flips through one of the song menus. “In your dreams, Kelly Clarkson.”
She sits back, her eyes on her menu, but the corners of her mouth tip upward. I doubt he could have given her a better nickname. “Maybe I’ll sing some Christina.”
I really hope that doesn’t mean Aguilera. Jenna can sing—there’s no doubt about it. But, I mean, Christina is Christina.
“Or maybe Selena,” she says.
Landon nudges me. “What about you, li’l sis?”
I really want him to quit calling me
that. I turn to Jenna. “This is just stupid. What is this going to prove?”
She focuses on me. “Have you ever been on a stage?”
I consider it. “Yes, several times.”
“Outside of plays and musicals where you were accompanied by half the school?”
I shut up.
She closes her menu. “Sweetie, you have no idea the empowerment you will feel when you get that mic in front of you.”
“That’s what you feel, but who’s to say that’s what I’ll feel? What if I’m just terrified and want to slit my wrists?”
“I’ll sing with you,” Landon says.
I snap my head toward him. “Really?”
Jenna stabs a finger across the table. “No. She’s doing this alone or not at all.” She looks around. “I’m going to the bathroom.”
My chest tightens, and I wonder what a panic attack feels like. My breaths come quicker.
Landon leans in. “Are you okay?”
I nod, forcing longer breaths. He places a calming hand on my back. “You don’t have to sing if you don’t want. I don’t care what Jenna says. Tell her to screw herself.”
If only. I take a minute closing my eyes and quieting my breaths.
“I want to do it,” I say. I don’t, of course, but I do want this task marked off the list.
He takes my hand in his and cups the top of it with his other hand, which both soothes me and makes my stomach take flight all at once.
“You’ll never see these people again in your life.” He squeezes my hand. “You got this, little sis.” One side of his mouth quirks up and his indigo eyes get lazy. “You look damn good if that makes any difference.”
A shiver runs up my spine. How can he call me little sis and tell me I look damn good all in the same breath? If this karaoke doesn’t kill me, figuring him out will.
I nod. “Okay.”
Jenna rejoins us, and I hand her the menu. “I have no idea what I’m doing. What should I sing?”
She grins, grabs a tablet, and then rips off a fresh sheet of paper. “I got ya, sista.”
Oh crap.
Landon
So far we’ve suffered through about nine hundred little kids singing irritating pop songs.
I turn to Chloe when the latest one finishes. “And you think I’m crazy for not listening to music?”
“That’s kiddie pop music. That’s a world away from what I listen to.”
The families have thinned out making way for the teenagers and twenty-somethings. I spot a table of what looks like college kids. They laugh way too loud and pass a bottle of liquor under their table, spiking their sodas.
The deejay’s now very familiar voice oozes over the surround-sound. “What did you think about that, guys and gals? Does Taylor Swift have some competition or what?”
Courtesy claps fill the room, and the lighting lowers to make way for neon lightning bolts, which illuminate the backdrop of the stage.
“Next up, we have Jenna Quigley coming to the stage.”
Jenna lets out a sigh, as if she can’t be bothered. She eases off her stool and adjusts her shirt.
“Wait a minute. Why does that name sound familiar?” the deejay asks.
Jenna rolls her eyes at us and strolls to the stage as if she’s been prodded by everyone in the audience and reluctantly has agreed to grace them with song.
I cut my eyes at Chloe, and she rolls hers with a tempered smile.
The thirty-something, long-haired deejay points at Jenna. “I knew I knew you. America’s Newest Sensation, right?”
Jenna nods with a lazy smile as she takes the stage.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we have a celebrity on the Starz stage. Please welcome Jenna Quigley from America’s Newest Sensation!”
The room erupts in applause and even a couple of whistles—more love than anyone showed any of the cute little kids who went before her.
The song starts, and everyone’s gaze in the room is glued to the stage. Jenna’s up there like she’s an old pro, grabbing the mic out of the stand and shoving it toward her mouth, belting out notes like damn Beyonce. She’s bent over and pointing around the room as she sings, landing on specific tables and singing directly to them. She winks at some people at a particular table and college guys and girls seem equally infatuated and have the stupid smiles to show it.
At the end of the song, she points straight up in the air as she hits the final notes. When it’s over, she drops her arms to the side, and her body collapses inward in faux-exhaustion. She perks up with a guilty grin, and the crowd erupts in a round of whoops, hollers, and screeches that render me temporarily deaf. She anchors the mic and bobs a curtsy.
The deejay motions her over and says something to her off-mic. She nods in agreement and shrugs.
I lean in toward Chloe. “I didn’t know she was actually good.”
Chloe turns to me with a pale face, expressionless. “I can’t follow that. What was I thinking?”
Jenna’s on her way back to our table when the deejay’s booming voice fills the speaker above our heads. “And now, everyone, please welcome to the stage the lovely Chloe Stone.”
Chloe stares straight ahead frozen to her chair. I turn to Jenna for reinforcements, but she’s being swarmed by a group of tween girls. They shove napkins and pens in her face, and she signs autographs.
I know Chloe would regret it if she came this far and then backed out. Jenna was good, freaking phenomenal for karaoke, actually, but Chloe can do this. I want to help her.
The deejay’s voice is back on. “Chloe Stone, we are ready for you, my dear. Please make your way to the stage.”
I squeeze her thigh. “It’s the next five minutes of your life, then it’s over.”
She nods, but she’s still not moving.
“Look at me,” I say.
She gazes at me as if I’m the only person who ever existed. God, I can’t take my eyes off of her the way she looks tonight. Her hair shines auburn against her black shirt, and she peers at me with those light brown eyes. The dark, glittery makeup she’s wearing makes her pale skin look even paler. I like her better without any of that crap on, but for tonight, for being on stage and doing what she’s got to do, she looks hot as hell.
I take her hand. “You’re beautiful and confident and you got this.” I flash her what I hope is a comforting smile, and she gives me one back.
“Thanks,” she says.
I stand and don’t let go of her gaze. I walk backward toward the stage pulling her with me, and she follows me, her feet moving stiltedly. I give her a nod of reassurance, and she nods back at me, squeezing my hand.
We reach the stage, and I say, “Step up.”
She does as I tell her, and I let go of her hand.
I sit at a stool at the bar right by the stage, close to her as I can be without standing right in front of her. I want to be enough out of sight that I don’t make her nervous, but close enough in case she needs me.
Chloe searches the table we just left, and I assume she’s looking for Jenna for moral support. I glance over there and find Jenna, who got her into this mess to begin with, now taking selfies with kids. Why am I surprised?
Chloe’s gaze finds me. I hold up a thumb and give an assuring nod.
The music starts, and it’s a pretty cool song. It’s the first rock song of the night. It’s about time. That’s a genre of music I can stomach, although against my wishes, number patterns still fly across my brain like something from Sesame Street on crack.
There’s a big screen with the lyrics printed, and it looks like disappearing bars indicate the start of the song is coming. She stares straight through me, and I don’t think she is even aware that the song is playing. I point at the screen and give her another thumbs up, and she seems to wake up at the exact time she is supposed to come in.
She’s singing really softly, but from what I can tell, she’s not terrible. She goes into the chorus and gets a half a hair louder, and she sounds even better. My attention is distracted to three guys who have appeared right in front of her who are yelling at her. I’m almost off my barstool when I realize they aren’t making fun of her that I can tell. I think they’re really just having fun.
But I keep my eye on them.
Chloe’s singing gets louder. Now that I can really hear her, she sounds great. One of the guys cups his mouth and gives her an encouraging shout, and she smiles at him, wrapping her hand around the mic.
My chest constricts at the contact between them. What if this guy tries to talk to her after this? What if he were to ask her out? I’m sure he’s a damn tourist and will be gone by the week’s end, but still. He doesn’t have a clue about her. And the last thing she needs is some asshole hitting on her.
Which I repeat to myself for good measure.
The same guy blows her a kiss, and she gives him that shy smile she gives me sometimes, and now I want blood.
She finishes the last note and steps away from the mic with a grin the size of Texas. She glances my way, and I woot and clap louder than anyone in the room.
She covers her face, and then removes her hand quickly, giving me that embarrassed smile I love so much. The deejay’s deep voice booms out over the system asking the audience to give it up for Chloe Stone. I stand for an ovation, and the guys move closer to her and hold up hands for her to high-five.
I linger, letting her have a moment of praise with them, but hang close enough to hear what they are saying to her.
The one who blew her a kiss yells, “We love Shifting Shapes. They’re from our hometown.”
“Cool,” she yells back as she steps down off the stage.
“Come chill with us.” The one in the middle points to the table where I saw them passing around a bottle of liquor to spike their drinks.
Enough’s enough. I snake an arm around her back possessively. “Sorry, dudes. She’s with me.”
The guy who blew her a kiss looks me up and down. “I thought you were with the celebrity girl.”
The Summer Before Forever Page 9