I find myself blushing. “Whatever.”
“Really,” he presses. “I know we only hung out that one time, but we spent most of the night talking. It isn’t like I convinced you to go to the party just to get you into bed.”
“Can you just stop?”
We’re driving down the road now, which means it’s too late to get out. I could tuck and roll, but risking a head injury isn’t something I’m up for. Guess I’ll have to suck it up.
“Fine,” he agrees. “I won’t bring it up. Just know that I actually want to hang with you today. There’s nothing I expect from today, just like there wasn’t anything I expected … then.”
I want to mutter, I doubt that, but I don’t. I stay quiet, staring at the scenery we pass.
I mean, he was the one who wanted to sleep with me. Or, at least, he offered. Clearly, there was expectations.
“So did you like the concert?”
I’m thankful for the subject change, even if it’s still about him. Same old Ian. Egotistical as ever. Now, he’s just an egomaniac with money to support his head growth.
“It was good.”
“Just good?” he muses. “You seemed to be having fun. Even saw you singing along to some of the songs.”
I shrug. “I won’t deny your band is good. But if I tell you anything more, your ego will grow, and then there won’t be enough room in this tiny ass car for the both of us.”
“Ha ha.”
I smile to myself. “I did get some great pictures. I can show you later if you’d like.”
“That’d be awesome.” He sounds genuine.
I just nod.
“So …” He turns onto a side road I’ve never been on before. “How’s William doing? I see you two are as close as ever.”
“Will is fine.”
“You’re not very talkative,” he notes. “Can’t we just have a conversation, Tessa?”
I finally peel my eyes away from the window to look at him. “This just feels weird,” I admit. “After what we did …”
“I thought you wanted to drop that?”
“I do, but …” I shrug. “It’s just that us hanging out is weird because we did that. We saw each other naked, Ian.”
He cracks a smile. “I remember quite well.”
I groan. “Yeah, well whatever. What I’m trying to say is that we barely ever spoke before that night. Then, all of the sudden, you wanted to talk to me. You’re right; I had fun hanging out and just talking at that party. It was different, but good different. But then we slept together, and it changed things. You acted like I didn’t exist whenever we saw each other in town. It wasn’t like I expected anything more from you, but a simple ‘hi’ would have been nice. Then you just left for your tour.”
He frowns. “Tess, I’m not trying to make things weird for you. I’m sorry I left without saying anything, but I wasn’t the same person then. I won’t say I’ve changed completely, but my intentions are better than they were.”
I snort. “Yeah, okay.”
He eyes me. “I mean it. I was a douche then. Still kind of am. I don’t use girls though, not that I want to think I used you. I mean, you seemed into it. You were on board. You wanted to lose your virginity, so I helped out. You know, like friends do?”
I laugh. “Friends help each other with homework or drama. Friends don’t sleep with friends, Ian. It’s like, the law.”
He rolls his eyes. “Is that why you didn’t give it to Will?”
My eyes widen.
“What?” he asks innocently. “How long are you going to trap that poor bastard in the friend zone? He’s into you. Always has been. And you like him, right?”
I try to reply, but words are beyond me.
He chuckles. “Wow. Tessa Williams speechless. Got to say, I never thought I’d see the day. You weren’t even speechless after—”
“Don’t finish that sentence, please.”
He shrugs. “It’s cool. First times aren’t supposed to be fun. I mean, they typically are for the guy. But I hear they suck for girls. If we practiced I could blow your mind.”
“Ian,” I warn through clenched teeth.
He smirks. “Okay, okay. Don’t get your thong in a twist.”
“Really?”
“What?” His expression turns into one of over-exaggerated innocence.
I shake my head. “You really never change.”
“I’ve changed enough that matters.”
“What does that even mean?” I question. “I mean, it’s like you’re saying you’ve grown up, but what does that even matter? It’s not like you’re trying to impress me.”
“And why would you think that?”
“You’re pushing me on Will.”
“Well somebody needs to,” he states. “It was painfully obvious that he had a crush on you, but he was too afraid of being rejected. Shit, I thought he was going to kill me anytime I mentioned how hot you were back in the day.”
I stare at him, one eyebrow raised.
“Don’t give me that look. I’m not saying you aren’t hot now. Shit, you’re even more attractive now than you were in high school. You filled out, got curves. It’s not hot. It’s sexy. But Will? Yeah, he didn’t know how to handle the situation.”
My eye twitches. “And I suppose you thought you did?”
His laugh is dark, devious, engraved with the same memories I have. “Sweetheart, clearly I handled the situation pretty damn well. Unless I’m remembering how that night ended differently than you are?”
My cheeks heat up, probably blotched with pink.
“Didn’t think so,” he says in amusement.
I push past it. “I think you’re forgetting something in your argument, Ian. Will had Sheri back then. A girlfriend. Somebody he crushed on for his entire junior year before he finally asked her out. That doesn’t exactly scream interest in me, now does it? Plus, I don’t see why you’re so adamant about making Will and I happen, even after all this time. Hell, why did you even bother sleeping with me if you thought he liked me?”
“It’s not like I’m saying I didn’t like you, Tess.”
I don’t answer. I don’t even bother analyzing his reply.
“I just didn’t like you as much as Will did,” he continues, humor in his tone. “Or should I say does? I could feel the death glares he cast my way at the concert. It’s like part of my soul was being ripped out. The dude has it bad. Maybe it’s time to just give in.”
“Give in to what?” I ask, exasperated. “It’s not like I can just make myself like him like that. Do I like him? Of course. Did I ever have a crush on him? Yeah, I did. But I’m not a teenager anymore. I moved on from all of that.”
Or, I think I did.
He turns onto another side road, and this time the scenery starts looking familiar.
“You haven’t moved on from Will,” he points out. “Not really. I hear you two are still pretty close; inseparable even.”
“I …” I clamp my lips shut. What does he want me to say? He’s right. Will and I are close. I haven’t ‘moved on’ from Will, but only because there was nothing to move on from. We were always friends.
“I’m going to give you some advice,” he tells me, slowing down at the end of the fair grounds. I notice the Ferris wheel from afar, as well as a few other rides.
“Maybe I don’t want it.”
“Too bad.” Pulling into an empty parking spot, he shuts off the car and turns his body toward mine. “Don’t let yourself make excuses. I know this might sound cliché, but sometimes the people that are meant for us are right in front of us the whole time. Best friends don’t have to stay best friends. Why should they? They already know everything about each other.”
I’ve read a hundred books, seen a hundred movies, where the best friends become lovers. Some of them have happily-ever-after, and others don’t. And what’s the real struggle in them? That they’re afraid they’re going to ruin their friendship? That things might not work out? That’s always
going to be a fear, but mine runs deeper.
Mine lives underneath my skin, a layer of me that says I’m not ready to be happy yet.
And being with Will … it would make me happy, like I could let go of everything I keep inside. Maybe I’m demented for wanting to feel that pain, but after so long of living with it, it’s become a part of me.
The truth is, I don’t know how to be happy. Not fully.
“But where’s the mystery? The surprise?” I blurt without thinking first. “Will and I know everything there is about each other. We know our strengths, weaknesses, annoying habits. It’s like we’re the same person. There’s nothing new to learn about him. What if I give it a chance and I find out that it’s boring?”
He studies me for a long moment, rubbing his clean-shaven chin. “If you decide to date somebody else, you’ll eventually learn everything there is about them anyway. You’re already there with Will. Why waste your time?”
“Why?”
His face crinkles with confusion.
“Why are you so intent on setting me up with Will?” I elaborate.
He exhales a short breath, like the truth is expelling from his body. “I liked somebody once. Maybe I still do, I don’t know.” For a moment, he seems to be deep in thought. Then adds, “Actually, that’s a lie. I still like her a lot, but it’s complicated. I haven’t seen her since I moved away during fifth grade. Maybe I’m still nursing the crush I had back then. A lot of shit changes, so she may be nothing like the girl she was back then. But do I care? No. I mostly regret not trying harder to reconnect with her.”
Ian has always been the player of the town, and become an even bigger one to the press. I find it hard to believe that he’s pined over the same girl since fifth grade. What could they have known about each other that held such a bond? He’s almost twenty-two, it seems like a long time to hold on to something.
Hypocrite.
Curiosity takes over. “What’s her name?”
He smiles at me, his eyes a lighter shade of blue, like there’s a speckle of hope breaking through the interior of the navy color. I wonder if my eyes ever do that, become lucid to the feelings that I don’t even express.
“Kasey,” he discloses, hips lips still tipped up. “She was my first kiss. I was hers. We were close, pretty much like you and Will. But when I left, it wasn’t on the best terms. Our families were … well, it doesn’t matter. There were some hardships when my family moved away, and I wasn’t allowed to keep in touch with her. I miss her. Always have.”
“So …” I try analyzing the conversation. “Are you trying to get me and Will together so we don’t regret not taking a chance? Because that’s pretty cheesy, Ian.”
“Do whatever the hell you want, Tess. I’m just telling you that regrets suck. Take a chance. Don’t take a chance. Honestly, it doesn’t matter much to me. I’m just trying to give you advice friend-to-friend.”
“Is that really what we are?”
He opens his door. “I’d like it to be. Just because we slept together doesn’t mean we can’t be friends. Plus, it was a while ago. We could void it out, since so much time has passed.”
He gets out of the car, making me follow suit.
“But why do you want to be friends?”
“Why not?” he shoots back. “You’re cool, Tess. I’ve always thought that. You being easy on the eyes is simply a bonus.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re such a flirt.”
He shrugs. “Just part of the package.”
“What if I don’t want to be your friend?”
He gives me a knowing look. “If that were the case, you wouldn’t have gotten in the car. And want to know something else? You trust me; another part of friendship.”
“I never said I trusted you.”
“You didn’t have,” he replies. “What we did that night said it all. Be honest, Tessa. You didn’t want that night to mean anything more than what it was. You wanted to lose your virginity, but you didn’t want to feel anything for the person. You trusted me with something, and have ever since. Why didn’t you ask Will? I think it’s because you were afraid you’d feel something for him. Maybe something stronger than what you already feel. You’ve always been good at masking how you feel. You like him, but you’re just as afraid of rejection.”
I don’t know what to say, so I simply soak it all in.
“So,” He concludes, rubbing his hands together, “I’ve got a pocket full of tickets, and we’ve got all day. Let’s just enjoy the good weather, ride some rides, play some games, and junk out to random food that should never be fried but is. Deal?”
And because the arrogant douche canoe is right about me trusting him, I smile and follow him to the entrance.
Going out with a few of my old high school buddies seemed like the perfect distraction to take my mind off Tessa being out all day with Ian. As much as I want to believe there is nothing to worry about, I know Ian has a way with charming the female population. Tess doesn’t easily fall for players like him, but she isn’t immune to his ways either.
I know that firsthand, and it still makes me twitch.
“Still moping?” Cody mocks, slapping my shoulder as he takes the stool next to me. He tips his beer up as his eyes meet the flat screen in front of the bar. A baseball game is playing.
He gave me shit as soon as he saw my eye, asking who I tried beating up. That got the rest of the guys all riled up and on my case asking for details. I didn’t tell them anything, much to their dismay. I thought they’d drop it then, but it only fueled them to make their own assumptions … most of them ridiculous. I let them poke their fun at me, knowing damn well at least two versions of the story was going to be around town by morning no matter what I said.
I just gave him a glare that said blow-me, without saying the words themselves.
He ignores the look, like usual. “You know, it’s open mic night,” he prods instead, glancing over at the empty stage. Sure enough, there was a stool in the center with a microphone in front.
Marty Fields, the owner of the bar, has held open mic nights every Friday since I can remember. There are a few regulars who participate, Ian’s band having their first real gig on that make-shift stage.
I haven’t performed in months, despite everybody trying to get me to. My fingers itch to strum the strings of my old acoustic guitar like old times. But with summer chores and fieldwork at the farm, it’s hard to find the time. Really, my inspiration has been AWOL. What’s my love for playing worth with the absence of my muse? Ian loved playing for the attention of any girl he could … hell, even guys. Anybody who would listen to his music.
I only ever cared about one girl listening.
“I’m not really feeling it,” I opt to tell him, eyes drifting to the TV. Honestly, I’m into sports. So the baseball game doesn’t really hold my interest, but it’s better than being hounded by any of the guys.
Not that it stopped any of them.
“Yo, Marty!” Cody calls, waving over the owner. Marty is a short, bald guy in his fifties with no wife or kids. As far as I know, the bar is his whole life. His baby. He’s a good guy, always encouraging local artists. Despite protest, he was the one who insisted Ian’s band play even though they were under twenty-one at the time, which gave them their start.
He comes over, a rag draped across his broad shoulder. There is no emotion on his face, not out of the ordinary for him. He isn’t an expressive guy, never giving away what he thinks. But he sure as hell is blunt, even if you don’t want him to be.
“You gonna get your ass up there tonight?” he asks me, like he always does when I come by. Even when it isn’t open mic night, he would get me to play a few songs for the people there. I don’t make a habit of going out with the guys often, but at least once or twice a month I make an appearance.
I give him a loose shrug. “I don’t know …”
Cody shoves my shoulder with his, looking at Marty with a grin on his face. “He’s too busy brooding over
a chick.”
Marty rolls his eyes. “Always about that girl, isn’t it? Didn’t some famous singer say music is therapeutic or some shit like that?”
That girl. Like he knows.
“Get up there, kid,” he tells me. It isn’t a suggestion.
I sigh, trying to find an excuse. “I don’t even have my guitar.”
He goes in the back room off the bar area, pulling out a familiar black case. When he unzips the carrier and reveals my guitar, I can’t help but shake my head.
There’s only one person who knows where I keep my guitar at my house, and it doesn’t surprise me that she’d grab it. I should have noticed, but I haven’t been that in tune with anything music lately. Guess this is Tess’s way of trying to get me back on stage.
“Now you have no excuse.” He passes me the guitar, my hand having no choice but to wrap around the neck. The strings hum by the contact, causing ease to fill my body from the soft sound.
I love playing, but it isn’t my life. Not like it is Ian’s or the rest of Relentless. Not anymore. Once upon a time, I entertained the idea of letting it be what I did for the rest of my life, just like the guys wanted. Now, it’s more of a hobby. Something to pass the time, something to ease the mind.
Music has a way of doing that to you. Any song can become relatable, wrapping you up in the lyrics or the beat. I know that’s why Tessa loves listening. She doesn’t notice when I watch her edits the pictures she’s taken, but it’s too hard not to do. She always has her earbuds in, her phone’s playlist on, and you can see the way her body melts to the meaning of then music. She never listens to upbeat songs whenever she’s working on something, instead choosing more jarring selections that flood emotion into the pictures. I can tell by the outcome of the black and whites or blurred images she comes up with.
They’re beautiful but heartbreaking, dark but striking.
Just like her.
I get off my stool at the bar and head toward the stage, guitar hanging close to my side. I wasn’t planning on doing this when I agreed to go out, so I didn’t really have anything prepared. I usually did covers of songs that Dad liked, mostly consisting of 70s and 80s rock songs. If not him, Tess would make me play her songs she loves. Usually something pop that I slow down and learn the acoustic version to.
The Summer We Changed (Relentless Book 1) Page 7