by Amber Garza
“I’m actually glad you called,” he says. “I was up all night writing a new song, and I really think the two of us will sound great on it. We’ll work on it tonight, okay?”
“Tonight?”
“Yeah, for band practice. You’re coming, aren’t you?”
I know I should say no. That was the plan, after all. But the thought of Beckett writing a song late into the night with the intention of us singing it together throws my whole plan out of whack. I clear my throat. “Of course.”
“Great. See you at seven,” he responds. It’s odd, but I can actually hear the smile in his voice. It causes my heart to soar.
“Okay.” I intentionally keep my tone calm, hoping he doesn’t sense how elated I am.
“And Star?”
“Yes?” I hold my breath.
“Don’t ever call me before noon again.”
“Right.” I click off, irritated. How does he do that? How can he make me so happy one minute and so infuriated the next? I throw my cell down on my bed and groan. Did I seriously just agree to join Beckett? Man, that guy really knows how to push my buttons. Lola’s going to have a field day with this one.
The door to our dorm room pops open and Lola rushes in, two paper coffee cups in hand. Her hair is a little disheveled, and pink flushes her cheeks. She’s wearing a cute belted black sweater over skinny jeans and black boots.
“I figured you could use a little pick me up this morning.” She shoves a cup into my hand. The one that only moments ago was holding my cell phone. I wrap my fingers around the warmth of it and take a sip. Chocolaty creaminess swims down my throat. “Hmm. Thanks, Lola.”
“Sure.” She runs a hand down her hair, and the glossy black strands are sleek again.
I touch the long strands of my brown hair wishing they were as shiny and sleek as Lola’s. Sure my hair is straight and thick, but it’s unruly and has a total mind of its own.
“So, are you going to keep me in suspense all day? Tell me what happened when you called Ryker.”
My face goes hot. “Um…well, I didn’t exactly call Ryker.”
Lola pulls the cup away from her dark red lips. “You chickened out, huh?”
“Not exactly.” My stomach churns.
Lola knits her brows together. “What do you mean?”
“Ryker didn’t give me his number. He gave me Beckett’s.”
“Ah.” Lola raises a knowing eyebrow. “So how did he take it?”
I stall by taking a large gulp of the coffee. After swallowing I say, “Really well, actually.”
“Jerk,” Lola mutters under her breath.
I giggle. “There was nothing to be upset about, since I sort of told him I’d join the band.”
“No way!” Lola almost spills her coffee. “What made you change your mind?”
I shrug my shoulders. “I don’t know. I was all set to tell him, but then he started talking about a song he wrote for us and I just couldn’t do it.”
“Ooh, he wrote a song for you.” Lola perches on the edge of her bed, her coffee cup still in her hand. “Do tell.”
“Not for me, exactly. He just said that he thought we would sound great on it.”
“Star Evans, it sounds like maybe Mr. Rockstar has a little crush on you.”
I bat away her words. “Please, he so doesn’t.”
Lola smirks. “If you say so.”
My stomach flutters from her words. I know I shouldn’t want them to be true. Beckett’s all wrong for me. Besides, he’s an arrogant jerk. I’m usually super practical, and I always go for the good guys. Why is it that I can’t seem to temper the attraction I feel for Beckett?
I slide into a seat at the very back of the large lecture hall just as my history class starts. Professor Johnston doesn’t waste any time, but immediately starts his lecture. I fumble around in my backpack, my fingers brushing over my notebooks and papers. Grasping my history notebook, I yank it out. I quietly unzip the front pocket and reach inside to protract a pen while the professor drones on. Just as I sit upright and open my notebook, the dark haired girl to my left bends toward me. “You’re her, aren’t you?” she whispers. “The girl with Beckett?”
I’m startled by the question, thinking how I just decided to join less than an hour ago. Does news really travel that fast? “Um…yeah, I guess. I mean, I’m in the band if that’s what you’re asking.”
“I’m Stacy.” She says with a smile.
“Star,” I respond, leaning closer to the girl, but keeping my eyes fixed at the front of the room to make sure we’re not caught by Professor Johnston. “How did you know that I was in the band?”
“Oh, I was at the bar the other night when you two sang together.” The girl clutches her chest, a dreamy look cloaking her face. “You’re so lucky. I would give anything to have Beckett sing to me like he did to you.”
My cheeks warm. “He wasn’t singing to me. We’re not…um…we’re not together really. I’m just the backup singer.”
“Still. It’s every girl’s dream in this town. Beckett is like one of the biggest local bands here in Seattle.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yeah. They play everywhere.” Stacy smiles. “But why am I the one telling you this? You’re in the band, right?”
“Right.” I squirm uncomfortably in my chair as her words hit me like a ton of bricks. I knew Beckett was good, but I didn’t realize they were also well known. A part of me is excited by the prospect, but the other part of me is sickened. What have I gotten myself into?
6
Beckett
I should be mad at Ryker for giving out my phone number, but I’m not. It was actually nice to answer the phone and hear Star’s voice on the other end, even if it was way too early in the morning. I stumble into the dirty kitchen and fumble around for the coffee maker. I fill the pitcher with water and then scoop some coffee grounds into the filter. Then I push it on and lean against the sticky counter, running a hand over my head. Footsteps pound down the hallway, causing my pulse to spike. Who’s here?
I push myself off the counter, the hair on the back of my neck prickling. I reach across the counter for the set of knives, and fish out the largest one. Then I inch forward quietly. When a shadow casts on the carpet, I jump forward.
“Shit, man. Are you gonna stab me?”
Startled, I drop the knife. It clatters to the floor, landing mere inches from my bare feet. “Tate, what are you doing here?”
“I live here, bro.” Tate pushes past me, his long hair brushing over his shoulders.
“Since when?” I lean over, retrieving the knife before one of us steps on it. “I haven’t seen you for months.”
“I was working out of town.” Tate opens a cupboard and pulls out a coffee mug. His flannel pants hang low on his hips, a tattered wife beater tank top hanging over it.
“You better not have brought any drugs into our apartment.” I toss the knife back on the counter.
“I’m clean, man.”
“I hope so,” I mumble.
Tate turns around to face me. “You know I haven’t used since…”
I shake my head, not wishing him to say it. We both know the event he’s referencing, and neither of us wants to rehash it. “Yeah, I know.”
“So I hear you’ve got some hot chick in your band now.” Tate smiles while pouring a cup of coffee.
“Who told you that?” My stomach knots. The last person I want Star to meet is my brother.
“Mom told me.”
“You talked to Mom? When?”
“Last night. She told me all about what’s been going on with you.”
“Surprised she even knows,” I say pushing past Tate to get my own coffee.
“Lighten up on her, dude. She just wants a better life for you, you know.”
“Yes, I know she and dad want me to quit music and do something more stable. Too bad for them, it’s my life.” Reaching into the cupboard, I pull down a mug. “It’s not like I’m going to make the
same mistakes you guys did.”
“No, I’m pretty sure you’ll make different ones.” Tate laughs in that condescending older brother tone.
I just roll my eyes and take a sip of my drink. The last person I need to take advice from is Tate. He’s one of the main reasons I live my life the way I do. I try to do the exact opposite of him.
“So tell me about this hot chick. You doing her yet?”
For some reason this angers me. “No, I’m not.”
“Whoa! How long has she been a part of the band?”
“Just since this morning, actually, but she auditioned a couple of weeks ago. Then she and I sang together the other night.”
“And you still haven’t slept with her? That must be some kind of record for you, huh?” Tate nudges me in the side. “So, I’m guessing she’s not hot then.”
“Oh, no, believe me, she’s hot.”
“Is there something you want to tell me, bro?” Tate scrunches up his forehead. “You’re still into chicks, right?”
I sigh, frustrated. “What exactly did Mom tell you? I didn’t even know she knew about Star. And I know she didn’t say she was hot.”
“No, she just said that Ryker mentioned her,” Tate explains, and now it all makes sense.
“Yeah, I bet he did.”
“Oh, I see. So she’s doing Ryker.” Tate slaps me on the back. “I’m proud of you, dude. You finally adhere to the guy code.”
I shrug him off. “I’m not adhering to any code. Ryker isn’t doing her. I think he’s into her friend.”
“Then what’s going on?”
“Nothing. She’s just a girl in our band, end of story.” I head toward my room, coffee mug still in hand. Warmth seeps into my fingers. “I’ve got a lot to do today, so we’ll have to talk later.” I pause. “Are you going to be around awhile this time?”
Tate nods. “Yeah, I am.”
“Cool.” Even though I was irritated when I first saw him this morning, I have to admit that I’m glad he’s back. When he took off I was kind of worried. Tate and I may have our issues, but I don’t want to lose him. I know exactly how it feels to lose someone you love, and I never want to experience it again.
7
Star
I’m late like always. I pull up to Beckett’s house ten minutes after seven, my heart beating erratically in my chest. Despite how hard I tried to be on time, I just couldn’t get it together. Story of my life. After cutting the engine, I yank my purse off the passenger seat and jump out of the car. The garage door is already open, so I walk toward it pushing a few loose strands of hair from my face. Ryker stands clustered with the other two guys in the band, while Beckett fiddles with one of the amps. The minute I step inside, Ryker glances up at me with a smile.
“You made it.” He motions me over. As I move toward him I glance over at Beckett, but he is still busy with his task. I try not to feel disappointed that Ryker seems to be more excited about my presence than Beckett. “Star, this is Jimmy, our drummer.”
I smile at the tall, lanky guy with long dark hair, and he grins back.
“And this is Pierce, our electric guitar player.”
“You were awesome the other night.” Pierce smiles, his floppy hair bouncing around his face, reminding me of a puppy with long ears.
“Thanks.” I’m grateful for the compliment, and start to relax a little.
“Are we gonna stand around yapping like a bunch of girls all night or get to work?” Beckett barks, and my shoulders stiffen.
Ryker gives me an apologetic look while the other guys grumble. I press my lips together and turn around, annoyed with Beckett for his grumpy attitude. Would it really kill the guy to be friendly every once in awhile? From my few encounters with him I can tell that his social skills are seriously lacking. The other guys scramble to their instruments, and the garage rumbles as the amps roar to life. As I head toward the keyboard, I make the mistake of peering over at Beckett. His head is bent down as he slips his guitar strap on. Today he wears a short sleeved shirt, exposing the intricate tattoos weaving his upper arm. As if he senses me staring, he lifts his head. I freeze, just as a slow smile spreads across his face.
“See something you like?” He drawls.
“No,” I sputter, my face turning so hot I fear I’ll melt my makeup. “Why?”
“I thought you were noticing my new guitar. It’s pretty slick, huh?” He smirks. “What did you think I meant?”
“Nothing.” I take a deep breath, and lower myself down onto the bench in front of the keyboard. What the hell is wrong with me? I need to hold it together around this guy if I plan to be in this band very long.
“Okay, guys.” Beckett grins at me. “And girl. I have a new song I want us to try. If we can get the hang of it maybe we can add it to the roster for Saturday night’s gig. If not, we’ll hold off for now.”
“Saturday night?” I ask meekly.
Beckett nods, tossing a couple of papers in my direction. “Yeah, we’re playing at the pub.”
I catch the sheets of paper before they flutter to the ground. “What pub?”
“Don’t worry,” Beckett says, turning back around and strumming once on his guitar. “We’ll talk details later. Right now, it’s time to play.”
I face forward, my eyes connecting with the papers in front of me. This must be the new song Beckett wrote. A tiny wave of excitement pulses through me as I touch the keys, and the rest of the band swells behind me. The beat of the drums pulsate beneath my feet, causing my whole body to buzz. Beckett starts to sing in his husky voice, and chills brush over my skin. Just like everything I’ve heard the band play, the song has a haunting melody, the lyrics dark. I decide to try out the harmony on the chorus. Pressing my lips to the mic above the keyboard, I sing with Beckett.
I’m untouchable
Just out of reach
And I’m not able
To break free
It’s who I am
It’s me
Glancing over at Beckett, I wonder about his tortured lyrics. He always acts as if he doesn’t have a care in the world, but nobody writes songs like his if they haven’t endured some kind of pain or neglect. Lifting my head a little, I stare at his face while he sings the next verse. His eyes are cast downward, his hands moving slowly and methodically over the guitar. Only I can tell that in his mind he is a million miles away. I find myself hoping that one day he’ll share his feelings with me. For some reason his need to be so mysterious and distant, only draws me to him more. When I hear the verse coming to a close, I force my head away from him and get ready to sing the chorus with him again.
When the practice ends, I gather up my sheet music and get ready to head home. The rush I feel from the last couple of hours hasn’t died down yet and it’s like I’m floating above the ground as I make my way around the keyboard. I approach Beckett who is bent over his guitar.
“So, about that gig on Saturday night?” I ask, while my shadow casts over his shoulder.
He peers up at me, his eyebrow raising. “Yeah, I’ll pick you up around six, okay?”
This catches me off guard, and I freeze. After swallowing hard, I find my voice, “Okay.”
“You live in the dorms, right?” He sets down his guitar, and stands to face me.
My heart beats frantically in my chest, and my palms fill with moisture. Since I can’t speak with him looking at me the way he is I just nod.
“My apartment is pretty close to the campus.” He runs a hand over his head. “So it makes sense just to swing by on my way to the pub. I’ll meet you in the parking lot.”
I nod again, wishing my mouth would move, but it’s like my lips are glued together all of the sudden.
He smirks at my lack of response. “See ya then, Star.”
“Yeah,” I finally squeak out, and start to turn around.
“Oh, and Star?”
I whirl around to face him.
“Wear a little skirt or something on Saturday.” He grins.
“Well, we already give the girls plenty of eye candy at our shows.” He gives me a knowing look that irritates me. “Why not offer something to the guys?”
I roll my eyes. Did he seriously just say that? “You’re a pig.”
“So is that a yes or no then on the skirt?” He looks confused.
I groan in frustration, and then I turn around to face the other band members. “Bye, guys. See you Saturday.”
They all wave in response.
“Hey, do you need a ride on Saturday?” Ryker asks, stepping toward me.
“No, I’ve got it, man,” Beckett speaks from over my shoulder.
Ryker lifts his brows a little. My head is swirling from all the mixed signals. Before anyone can say anything else to me, I race out of the garage clutching the sheet music to my chest. When I reach my car, I take a deep breath. I swear every time I’m with Beckett I feel like I’ve endured whiplash. One minute I’m swooning over him, the next I want to gouge his eyes out with a dull spoon. He’s so infuriating.
Despite my frustration at Beckett’s request, I actually do wear a skirt on Saturday night. It’s short too, and tight. I have no idea what possesses me to put it on. Once I catch my reflection in the mirror Lola and I have mounted to the door, I feel mortified. I won’t even be able to move on the stage without giving every guy in the audience a sneak peek. I’m about to take it off when Lola marches in.
“Wow, what are you wearing?”
My cheeks flush. “Nothing. I was just about to change.” I fiddle with the bottom of the skirt.
“Why? You look hot. Like a sexy rocker chick.” Lola runs a finger through her hair.
I move back over to the mirror and assess myself. The large silver hoop earrings peek out from underneath my straight brown hair, my eyes are lined in dark black eyeliner and shimmer shadow, and my lips are lightly glossed. Several bangle bracelets line my arm. I have on a white floaty top over my skirt, and my feet are encased in strappy sandals. I try to imagine Beckett’s reaction when he sees me in this, and it causes my heart to flip in my chest. He’s only ever seen me in jeans before. Glancing at the clock, I cringe. It’s already six. Beckett is probably already waiting outside.