by Amber Garza
“Because that’s my dad.” He points to the man in the center of the picture.
My mouth gapes open. I wonder why I never made the connection before. Now that he’s staring me in the face, I can see that the resemblance is uncanny. “Barry Nash is your dad?”
Beckett nods.
“Wow, that must’ve been so cool to have a rockstar for a dad.” I smile.
“He wasn’t a rockstar by the time I was born.” He shrugs. “The band had already broken up.”
“Why did they break up?”
Beckett shakes his head. “I think that’s enough of a lesson for today, Star.” He flashes me a wicked grin. “Now it’s my turn to teach you how to write a decent song.”
“Decent song?” I raise my eyebrow. “Or tortured, sadistic song?”
“What’s the difference?”
I roll my eyes. “You’re impossible.” While I follow him back to the couch, I wonder why he evaded my question about his dad. What is the reason Killjoy broke up? I hope that someday Beckett trusts me enough to tell me. After plopping down on the couch, I scoop up my notebook and pen, and tuck my legs under my body. Beckett stretches out on the other side of the couch, staring up at the ceiling. His eyes appear to be closed, and I wonder if he fell asleep.
“Am I interrupting nap time or something?” I ask.
He brings his head back down, opens his eyes and gives me one of those teasing smiles that causes my stomach to flip. “I was thinking, Star. Songwriting takes concentration and quiet. It’s not just about slapping some words on a page.”
I swallow hard, biting back a defensive remark. “Okay, so what were you just thinking?”
He reaches his hand out, and for one second I think he’s going to touch my knee. My heart stops, but then he says, “Hand me my guitar.”
I glance to my right and see his guitar propped against the wall. After grabbing it, I hand it to him. He rests it in his lap and strums a haunting chord. Then he opens his mouth and sings,
Pretty smile, innocent eyes,
Open and honest, not a disguise.
Scarred and bruised, innocence stolen,
Ripped away, my heart is broken.
When he stops singing, I realize that I’m holding my breath. I swallow hard. “You just wrote that?”
He nods, his eyes dark. “Writing is therapeutic for me.”
“Who is it about?”
Beckett shakes his head. “It’s not your turn anymore, Miss Psychiatrist. I’m supposed to be teaching you about writing a song. We already had your lesson.”
I have a feeling I can learn more about him by listening to his songs anyway, so I nod. “Fine. But I don’t see how you can teach me to write like that.”
Beckett sets down his guitar and scoots a little closer to me. “Why not, Star? Haven’t you ever experienced anything painful in your life?”
I bite my lip, his proximity causing my heart to race. “Of course.”
“Close your eyes, Star.”
I do as I’m told.
“Remember an incident that caused you pain. How did you feel about it? What words would you use to describe it?”
He’s so close I can feel his breath against my skin and I shiver. I rack my brain for something, anything. But all I can think about is Beckett and how much I want him. So I end up blurting out the first thing that comes to mind. “Desperate.”
“Desperate, huh? Okay, we can work with that.”
Hearing his teasing tone, I open my eyes. Beckett is staring at me with those dark eyes, and I feel uncomfortable. It’s like he can see right through me. “What are you desperate for, Star?”
Feeling like an idiot, I shake my head. “I don’t know. Desperate probably wasn’t the right word.”
“Star.” His hand clamps down over mine, and I freeze. The feel of his skin against mine causes a flush of desire to run through me. It’s unlike any feeling I’ve had before. I never felt like this around Spencer or any other boys for that matter. “You’re doing great. Now keep going. What are you feeling right now?”
“Desire,” I blurt out the word before I can register what I’m saying. Afterward, I clamp my mouth shut. How lame am I?
But Beckett doesn’t laugh at me. His expression becomes serious. He lifts his arm and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear with his hand. My heart speeds up, and my eyes fall to his lips which are only inches from mine. I want to kiss him more than I’ve ever wanted to kiss anyone in my life. His eyes sear into mine, and it appears that he wants to kiss me too. He moves forward a little, and I inhale sharply. Then he abruptly sits back, his eyes widening as if he’s coming out of a trance. After clearing his throat, he says, “I think that’s good for tonight, Star.”
It’s like he just threw cold water on me. “But we didn’t really write anything together.”
“We will. Don’t worry.” He stands up, and I know I’m being dismissed.
I want to ask him what I did wrong, but I don’t want to sound like a whiny child. So, I hold my head up high and smile. “This was fun. Thank you.”
As I walk past him, his hand lightly brushes my shoulder. “It was fun, Star. I look forward to more lessons.” He throws me a wink that makes my knees soften.
Composing myself, I nod and hurry out the door. Once I’m safely in the hallway, I lean against the wall and take deep steadying breaths to calm my frantic heartbeat.
10
Beckett
The minute Star leaves, I bang my head against the wall. What the hell just happened? Did she really say she desired me? And was I about to kiss her? I groan and run my hand over my head. I so underestimated that girl. She is seriously dangerous. I need to stay as far away from her as possible.
My cell phone buzzes in my pocket, startling me. I push myself away from the wall and snatch it out of my pocket. Ryker.
“Hey, dude, what’s up?”
“I just left Lola’s. Star there?”
“Not anymore.” With the phone pressed to my ear, I make my way to the couch and sink into it. “She just left.”
“Please tell me you didn’t sleep with her.”
“Of course not. We just worked on some songs, that’s all.” I sigh. “Why do you care anyway? I thought you were into her friend.”
“I am.”
“You want both of them?”
“No, I don’t want to be with Star,” he says in an exasperated tone.
“You just don’t me to be with her?”
“No, I just don’t want you to hurt her.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, dude.”
“Well, you don’t exactly have the best track record with girls,” Ryker says. “And she’s nice, Beckett.”
“Yeah, I get it. She’s nice. I’m the big bad wolf. Don’t worry. It’s strictly professional between us.” I remember the way she breathed the word “desire” and how she puckered her lips when she thought I might kiss her, and my stomach knots.
“Good. I mean, it’s what’s best for the band, right?”
“Yeah, it’s what’s best for the band,” I repeat, hoping to convince myself. After hanging up, I reach for my notebook and pen lying on the couch next to me. I scrawl the words I wrote while Star was here so I won’t forget them. Then I pick up my guitar and set it in my lap. My fingers pick at the strings, and I try out the lyrics again. Closing my eyes, I picture Star’s face as I sang. Her expression was a mixture of concern and curiosity. When she asked who the song was about I almost told her. There’s something about her that I trust, and I know if I spend too much time with her I’ll yield to her. Only, I can’t afford to trust someone like that. Besides, it wouldn’t be fair to her. No matter how hard I tried, in the end I know I’d hurt her. It wouldn’t be intentional, but I wouldn’t have a choice. There is only one path for me in this life, and it doesn’t include getting close to a girl.
“Is it safe to come in?” I hear Tate’s muffled voice through the door the minute I stop playing.
I set my
guitar down by my feet. “Yes, come in.”
The door opens and Tate pops his head in, his gaze scouring the place.
“She’s gone,” I reply.
“Already, huh?” Tate grins while walking inside and closing the door. “I wasn’t sure what I’d walk in on.”
“I told you we were just writing together. That’s it.”
“Yeah, but then I met her.” Tate cocks an eyebrow and takes the seat next to me. His gaze lands on the sheet of paper I scrawled the lyrics on. “Is this the song you wrote together?” He snatches it up.
“Well, not really together. Star writes songs about sunny skies and happy love.” I smile in spite of myself.
Tate’s face grows serious. “Is this about who I think it is?”
I nod.
“Did you tell Star about her?”
“Of course not.” I kick my guitar lightly with the toe of my shoe. “It’s just that when Star’s around I can’t get Quinn off my mind. Doesn’t she kind of remind you of her?”
Tate drops the sheet of paper back onto the couch and sits back. “Now that you mention it, I guess. They have the same dark hair and eyes.”
“But it’s more than that.”
“Yeah, it’s the innocence. You nailed it in the song.” Tate furrows his brows. “Is that why you’re not into Star? Because she reminds you of Quinn?”
“Yeah,” I start to tell him he’s right, and then I stop myself. I’m so not in the mood for some heart-to-heart with my older brother. “That, and she’s not really my type.”
“Sure she’s not.” Tate gives me an incredulous look.
“She’s not, okay, so let’s just drop it.” I blow out a breath.
“Fine. I’ll drop it.” Tate smiles broadly. “Now, do you want to hear how that thing went tonight?”
“What thing?”
“The thing I had to go to.”
I am taken aback. “You really had something to go to? I was just trying to get rid of you.”
“I know.” Tate’s eyes darken. “That’s my point. I didn’t have anywhere to go, so I ended up at Mom and Dad’s.”
“Why did you end up there? Couldn’t you find a restaurant or pub or something?”
“Call me a glutton for punishment. But actually I’m just cheap, and I knew Mom would feed me.”
“You’re a loser.” I snort.
“Anyway, I told them about your little writing session tonight.”
“You didn’t.”
“Oh, yes, I did.” He slaps me on the thigh. “Expect a call from Mom this week. You can thank me later, little brother.”
I throw a couch pillow at him.
“Is that any way to treat me after I gave you a night alone with your friend?” As he walks back toward his bedroom, my chest tightens. I picture Star’s vulnerable expression; the disappointment painted on it when I told her to leave. Maybe it would have been better if Tate hadn’t left us alone. Perhaps we need to have constant supervision.
11
Star
“So, how did it go?” Lola asks the minute I get back to the dorm. She’s wearing sweat pants and a t-shirt, but her makeup and hair are still done up from her date with Ryker.
“Ugh.” I fling myself on my bed, hoping my cheeks will cool down. They’ve been burning up since I left Beckett’s.
“That good, huh?”
Rolling over, I press my cheek into my pillow. “Can we please not talk about it? Tell me about your date with Ryker.”
“It was good.” Lola bites her lip, and her face reddens.
“Where did he take you?”
“We sort of hung out here.” She fidgets with the bottom of her shirt.
I giggle. “Lola, you bad girl.”
“Shut up.” She tries to look mad, but a smile breaks out on her face. “Like you’re one to talk. You were at Beckett’s apartment alone all night. What happened?”
“We just wrote music, that’s all.”
“Yeah right.”
I sit up, pushing the hair back from my face. “I’m being serious, Lola. Why don’t you believe me?”
She shrugs. “It’s just that when I told Ryker where you were, he seemed pretty sure that Beckett would try something with you.”
“Why did he think that?” I’m hoping she’ll say it’s because Beckett has told Ryker he likes me or something.
“Because according to Ryker, Beckett tries something on every girl he gets alone with. He seems to think it’s like impossible for Beckett not to.”
I feel sick. “Well, then I guess I’m the one girl he can control himself around.”
Lola’s eyes widen. “Oh. Well, I mean, that’s a good thing, right?”
I narrow my eyes at her, feeling even more stupid than before. “How is that a good thing, Lola?”
“I don’t know.” Lola looks so worried as she scrambles for something to say that it almost makes me feel sorry for her. “Maybe it just means that he respects you more than he does other girls.”
Frustration bursts out of me like a shaken soda. “I don’t want him to respect me. I want him to want me like he does all those other girls.”
Lola’s mouth gapes open. “Did you seriously just say that?”
I slink back. “I’m just as surprised as you are.”
Lola jumps down from her bed and walks toward me. After sitting by my legs, she rests her hand on my arm. “Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”
I laugh and throw my head back. “I don’t know what’s happening to me, Lola. I’ve always been so practical when it comes to boys.”
“Yes, I know. You went out with that dud Spencer for like three years.”
“And then he cheated on me.”
“Bastard,” Lola mutters under her breath. “And you were always too good for him.”
“I’ve just never felt like this around a guy before. He makes me different.”
“Good different or bad different?”
“I don’t know.” I sigh. “But whenever he looks at me, I just want to jump into his arms and kiss him. And tonight I almost did.”
“See, I knew something happened.”
“But that’s just it. Nothing happened. I told him I desired him, and he told me to go home.”
“You what?” Lola shouts.
I run my hand over my face. “I know. I’m such an idiot.”
“Okay, okay, start from the beginning. Tell me what happened.”
So I do. I spill the entire humiliating story. When I finish Lola strokes my arm, a look of pity cloaking her face. “Maybe he thought you were talking about someone else. It’s not like you point blank said that you desired him.”
I fix her with an incredulous stare. “C’mon, it’s totally obvious what I meant. And when I first looked at him it seemed like he desired me too.”
“He probably does.”
“Oh, yeah, that must be why he kicked me out.”
“Star, don’t take this the wrong way, okay?”
I cock my head to the side, almost afraid to hear her out. “Okay,” I say, drawing the word out slowly.
“I think it’s probably for the best. I mean, you yourself said that Beckett makes you act differently. I know you’re attracted to him, but I don’t think he’s the right guy for you. According to Ryker, he treats women like dirt.”
“You and Ryker sure spend a lot of time talking about Beckett.” I feel a little bad for how bitter I sound.
If Lola notices she ignores it. “Only because I told him where you were and he got all worried.”
“About me? Why?”
“He really likes you being in the band. He doesn’t want Beckett to screw it up.” Lola nudges me. “Ryker says that lots of guys were asking about you after the last show. Maybe you’ll start dating some hot fan.”
“He really said that?” I smile. “Yeah, maybe I will.” Even as I try to convince myself that’s a possibility, Beckett’s face emerges in my mind.
I enter the club, my h
eart hammering in my chest. The breeze kicks up my dress and I smooth it down. In the dim lighting I can barely make anything out.
“You’re late,” Beckett’s annoyed voice rings out.
I squint, and see the band already on the stage for the mic check. Determined not to let my disappointment at his behavior toward me show, I cross my arms over my chest and stalk toward them. My boots stomp on the ground as I head up on the stage.
I glare at Beckett while walking toward my microphone. “Maybe if someone had picked me up I wouldn’t be late.”
“Fine. Ryker will pick you up for all future gigs, okay?”
Way to dig the knife in deeper, Beckett. “Sounds great.” I glance back at Ryker with a smile. “Lola says hi, by the way. She’ll be here later.”
“Can we get the mic check over before the show starts?” Beckett asks in a bored voice.
I turn back around. “I’m ready.”
“Great,” Beckett replies.
All through the mic check I study Beckett. He seems to be doing his best to avoid me the same way he did at this week’s practice. I must have really freaked him out that night at his house. If only I could’ve kept my thoughts of desire to myself. My cheeks warm just remembering. I need to do something to make this okay again. I mean, I know that Lola’s right. He’s all wrong for me, but I at least want us to be friends. This whole awkward thing is too brutal. When we’re finished, we all head off stage. Beckett leans against the bar in the back, taking in the room. The other guys are huddled together chatting near the stage. Mustering up all my courage, I head toward Beckett.
“Hey,” I say to him, and rest my back against the bar.
He nods in response.
I consider just walking off, and leaving him to his grumpy attitude. A few people walk past us and sit down at one of the tables. I know it’s nearing time for us to play. Just when I’m about to head toward the other guys, boldness takes over. “Have I done something to upset you?”
“No.” Beckett slips back into the bored voice he used when we first met.
“It’s just that you’ve been sort of weird since the night we wrote together.” I hate how pathetic I sound. Trying to lighten the mood I wink. “Was I really that bad of a songwriter? Now you don’t want to associate with me?”