by Jean Haus
Just as we separate to avoid a group of students in the middle of the sidewalk, she says over her shoulder, “I’m not, but things don’t always work out like we want them to.”
When we rejoin on the other side of the little crowd, I let out a huff. “Just because you and Romeo have had problems doesn’t mean everyone will.”
She adjusts the backpack on her shoulder with a bounce. “Here’s the thing, except for a shaky start, Romeo and I worked. It was everything else that wasn’t working.”
“I’m not Romeo. Allie’s not you.”
“Justin, you’re not dating a college coed whose biggest worry is her social calendar, GPA, and hair color. Allie has a son, an ex-husband, and a business.”
“So she can’t date?”
“Sure she can date.” Riley lets out a sigh as I open a door to the Lit building for her. “But even though you’ve pulled a three-sixty, she has bigger commitments than a boyfriend—and you need to be aware of that.”
“I’m aware.”
“Okay, just don’t smash any more guitars,” Riley says. Starting up the stairway, she adds, “Catch you later.”
As Riley disappears around a landing, thoughts of Trevor hit me. I’ll never forget the look on Allie’s face at the art show when she saw him. Though I have a hard time believing she’d toy with me if she was still in love with that asshole, I haven’t known her long. She doesn’t seem like the type of girl who would lead me on or use me to fill in for her ex, but Trevor was the reason she went out with me on that fake first date.
Chapter 22
Allie
I step out of my car and stare into the dark antique shop window, wondering if this is a good idea. The muffled sound of loud music comes from above as I lean against the driver’s door. After Justin told me where they practice, a place not too far from my shop, the thought of stopping by and seeing him before going home had stuck with me all day long. Now, standing here, the entire idea seems rather stupid because, essentially, he’s at work. Yet I want to see him if only for a minute or two. Hearing his voice later while we talk on the phone won’t be enough to sustain me until Sunday, still three long days away. I try to ignore that he’s starting to fill my thoughts all of the time. Which means I really should not be here.
The music ends and I tap my fingers on the roof of my car. This would be the perfect time to make my unofficial entrance, but I don’t move. Suddenly a door at the far end of the old building opens and Sam steps out. After lighting a cigarette, he glances over and catches me leaning on the car.
He blows a stream of smoke. “Allie, right?”
Pushing away from the car, I nod.
“Looking for Justin?” he asks, running a hand over his buzzed hair.
“I wanted to say a quick hi, but if the band is too busy…”
He grins. “I have a feeling Justin will never be too busy for you. Give me a minute and I’ll take you up.”
I hesitantly step onto the sidewalk. “If you’re sure I won’t be interrupting.”
Sam blows out smoke with a laugh. “Romeo’s a slave driver. Trust me. We all look forward to interruptions.” His head tilts as he studies me. “Tell me something. If I showed up stoned, would you ink me?”
I blink at him, then slowly say, “Ah no. You would need to be fully sober.”
He tosses his butt in a can by the door. “Knew you were going to say that,” he says, hauling the door open. He waves a hand in a rolling gesture. “Ladies first.”
With a deep breath, I step inside and ascend the long, narrow staircase.
“What if you didn’t know I was stoned?” Sam asks from behind.
Been there, done that. “I’d know,” I say over my shoulder.
He chuckles. “Well, I wasn’t expecting that.”
At the top of the stairs, I step into a room illuminated by naked light bulbs hanging from the ceiling. The place clearly hasn’t seen a contractor since it was built. Justin stands with his back to me, leaning against the rough slats of a wooden wall and studying a sheet of music. The floor is made from worn, rough boards. With his profile almost hidden in the shadows, and dressed in faded jeans and an old T-shirt, he blends in with his surroundings. The image of him has me wishing I had a camera to perfectly capture the sight and re-create it in a painting.
“What the hell, Sam? You know the rules.” The voice comes from the direction of the drum set. The guy behind it is glaring as he tightens a knob on the front of the kit. He impatiently tosses his head to get his longish light brown hair out of his eyes.
I turn back toward the stairs at the harsh sound of his voice, but Sam wraps an arm around my shoulders. “She isn’t here to see me. She’s here for lover boy.”
Justin looks up and his green eyes widen in surprise.
A tall, dark haired guy steps out of the shadows at the far end of the room. He snaps a phone shut. His jaw hardens, and I realize he’s the guitar player, Romeo. The slave driver. “It doesn’t matter who she’s here to see. She doesn’t belong up here.”
As his dark eyes flash to Justin, I’m ready to fly down the stairs, but Sam’s arm is tight around me. This was an awful idea. “I’m sorry. I just—”
“No need to be sorry, Allie,” Justin says, his voice even lower and more steely than Romeo’s. He shoots a cold look at Romeo first, then at Gabe. “Get your arm off her, Sam.”
Sam chuckles, but he releases me.
“I should go,” I say. I wonder if a room can combust from angry stares as the band members glare at one another.
Tossing the sheet music on a box, Justin says, “Not a chance.”
“Justin,” Romeo says in an obvious warning tone.
Ignoring him, Justin comes to my side—close enough that I can smell his dark, earthy cologne—and wraps an arm around my waist. “This is Allie. You’ve met Sam.” He gestures to the drummer. That’s Gabe.” He then nods toward the guitarist. “And that’s Romeo.” Obviously done with introductions, Justin drags me across the room. “Give us five,” he says, pushing a small door open and then pulling me into the darkness.
“I should have called,” I say, but before I can get anything else out, he shoves me against the back of the door and covers my mouth with his. With his body pressed into me, his hands wrapped in my hair, and his mouth devouring mine, the kiss is hot and luscious. For several minutes, instead of oxygen, Justin is the air I breathe.
He pulls away slightly and I nearly sigh in disappointment.
His thumbs brush the skin of my neck and I shiver. “This is a nice surprise, but why are you here?”
Both his touch and voice are amplified in the darkness. Searching for the belt loop of his pants, I say, “Just wanted to see you.” I tug him closer until he’s pressed to me again. “And I guess I wanted this too,” I say. I tug his head down and kiss him as hotly as he kissed me, exploring every crevice of his mouth with my tongue.
He pulls away with a gasp. “Damn, you picked a hell of time.” His lips slide along the skin of my cheek and I instinctively wrap a leg around him. He cups my butt and slides me over him. At the hard feel of his desire, lust sizzles through me. We’re wrapped around each other and both heavily sucking in air. Why, oh why, did I slow things down the other night?
“Think they’d hear us?” he whispers hotly into my ear, and I can feel the chuckle he releases.
I rock against him and he groans into the skin of my neck. “I don’t care.”
“Shit, Allie. You have to stop or I’m not going to be able to.”
Not only do I not stop, I push my hands under his shirt, grasp the muscles of his back, and touch my lips to the hollow between his collarbones.
“Allie,” he says in a warning tone while groaning.
As my tongue darts out to taste his skin, a knock sounds at the door. “Ah, Justin?” Sam loudly says.
Our bodies
pause while intense desire flows between us.
“Out in a minute,” Justin yells, untangling himself from me.
Separated from him, I feel the fog of lust that’s blanketing my brain clear.
Embarrassment at what we’d been doing while Justin’s band members were on the other side of the door rushes through me. Slapping my own forehead, I groan—but mine is entirely different than his was minutes ago.
Without touching me anywhere else, Justin leans his forehead against mine. “I’ll be done in less than an hour.”
I shake my head. “I have to pick up Ben from my parents’.”
Justin draws in a deep breath. “Can you stay for one song?”
The idea of facing his bandmates on the other side of the door, much less watching them for an entire song, isn’t too appealing. “I don’t think they want me here. I should go.”
“Justin!” Sam bangs on the door again.
“Just one song, then I’ll walk you down.”
Bang. Bang. Bang. “I’m going to come in there!”
“One song,” Justin repeats.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
“Fine,” I say. “One song.”
He yanks open the door and pulls me out of the weird closet or room we were in. Three sets of eyes stare at me. Sam stands next to us with a smirk on his face. Lifting a guitar strap over his head and letting the guitar hang from his neck, Romeo appears irritated. Gabe sneers from behind his drum set. A telltale blush warms my face and I try to escape Justin’s embrace, but he holds me tight.
He nudges me toward a line of folded chairs along the opposite wall. “She’s going to stay for the next song, then I’ll walk her out.”
Romeo’s hand clenches the bottom of the guitar strapped around his neck. “Justin, I told you about bringing—”
Justin releases my shoulders as he whips toward Romeo. “One song, and don’t even say what I think you’re going to. She’s not like that.”
Gabe leans across his drums. “If anybody would be able to tell, it would be you.”
Justin’s fists tighten and he takes a step forward, but Sam comes between him and the drum set while I’m seriously thinking of sneaking down the stairs. For a group that plays awesome together onstage, I’m surprised at the animosity hovering over this dusty room.
“Leave it alone, Gabe,” Sam says, for once sounding serious. “She doesn’t know our rules. She just stopped by. J. didn’t invite her, so quit acting like a dick.”
Gabe continues to sneer but sits back without saying anything.
Justin turns to find I’ve taken a couple of steps toward the stairs. He comes over to me and says, “Don’t worry about them. You came to see me.” He gently pushes me onto a chair. “Just one song,” he repeats.
Deciding to ignore the hostile atmosphere, I nod. “Okay, but get playing so I can go.”
He gives my hand a squeeze, then moves toward his bandmates.
“What song did you have in mind?” Romeo asks him in an irritated tone.
Justin steps to the microphone in the middle of the room. “How about ‘Echo’?”
Romeo rolls his eyes but says, “Fine.” He nods to Gabe, who lifts his sticks and hits them together several times. Romeo starts playing a soft and slow but driving melody. Justin wraps his hands around the microphone and leans in as close as possible. I move to the edge of my seat.
Justin takes a deep breath and starts singing. His gaze meets mine and I hardly hear the words as I watch him intensely sing to me. Despite the shadows, his eyes bore deep inside me and I feel like I’m not only connected to him but also open to him. I notice the rest of the band only after Justin closes his eyes and sways to the music. Romeo watches his hands move across the stem of the guitar. Gabe nods as he plays the drums. And Sam has a content, almost sleepy look as he plucks at his bass.
Justin’s eyes open and take hold of me again as he sings. Whenever he sings, it’s like he’s singing to me. Well he actually is this time, but he makes the song seem like it was written for us. His piercing gaze ensnares me, pulls me into the song until we’re connected and riding the same wavelength of emotion. For this brief moment, I’m reminded of what he said in the shop—that we understand each other. Both of us recognize the longing, physically and emotionally, floating between us.
The song ends and his gaze devours me.
I’m instantly on my feet, ready to leave. And Gabe’s and Romeo’s irritation isn’t the only thing pushing me toward the stairs. The sense that my soul has been opened up, and read, adds to my desperation to flee.
Taking the first step, I murmur, “Thanks, bye.”
Justin follows me down the narrow staircase. As we step out into the cool night, I can finally breathe.
He pulls me into an embrace. “Thanks for coming,” he says into my hair. “You made my night, and don’t worry about them. They take this whole band thing a bit too seriously.”
He’s warm and a rush of lust shoots through me, but I brush the ring in his eyebrow with my fingertips and say, “You’re welcome, and I must say you sing beautifully, but I really have to get going.”
“All right.” He gives me a soft, lingering kiss, sighs, and steps back. “See you Sunday.”
With a nod, I move around to the driver’s side of my car. I ask, “By the way, what was that song?”
He smiles flirtatiously, showing his dimples. “‘Echo’ by Incubus.”
“Huh, well it was lovely.”
Still smiling, he watches me as I get in the car and start the engine. Since he’s standing on the curb, I offer a quick wave and drive away, but after the first turn, I pull to the side of the road and yank my phone out. It takes me only a few seconds to find the lyrics to “Echo.”
After reading the words several times and recalling his singing “Iris” to me weeks ago, I lean back into my seat with a hand to my chest. Both songs hint that Justin wants me to see beyond his playboy image. Instinctively, I understand he’s trapped in the persona. But I’ve seen the real him. I’m attracted to playboy Justin, but the real Justin is the one who keeps me coming back.
I bang my head back against the seat in frustration. This isn’t supposed to get serious. Justin and I should just be having fun. But his heartfelt plea is melting my resolve and I already know that it’s turning us into something beyond superficial. Recalling the intensity of him singing, I realize he has caught me. And despite all the responsibilities on my shoulders and reservations in my heart, it feels right. More than I ever thought possible, I want to be caught.
Chapter 23
Justin
Though I’m following the instructions Allie texted me, all the state park trails appear the same. Trees, plants, wood chips. I open her text and read it again. Start at the north trail. Left, right, right, then wait at the fork. Be there around two o’clock.
It’s past two and I’m standing alone, surrounded by trees. Wasting time is a little ridiculous considering I have a paper to write and three exams to study for just enough to attain the parent-aggravating average C. I slap at my arm—bugs. All to meet a five-year-old, and to see Allie. At least the sight of her will be worth the unwanted nature hike.
I’m about to text her when the sound of giggling comes at me from the left. Hopeful, I jog toward the sound as it grows louder. The first person to come around the corner is a small boy with curly hair and thick glasses. Seeing me, he stops walking and kicking wood chips. He glances over his shoulder nervously as I continue jogging toward him. Holly and Allie round the bend. Allie’s too cute, sporting a backpack and a baseball cap.
She plasters a look of surprise on her face as I stop my jog a few feet away from them.
“Justin! What are you doing out here?”
I bend and pretend to catch my breath. “Sunday afternoon jog. Nothing better than running on nature trails.” Yeah, right. I like to
run on a treadmill with a TV in front of me. I draw in a deep breath like I’ve been running for miles. I’m dressed for deception in Adidas running shoes, a hoodie, and running pants. “You?”
Holly shoots me a mocking look.
“Out hiking,” Allie says, putting her hands on the small shoulders in front of her. “Ben loves to hike and study nature.”
I give Ben a grin. “Hiking’s cool.”
He stares at me, and I slowly realize this kid has got to like me because if anything would be a deal breaker for Allie it would be her son. Yet even though I know next to nothing about kids, being fake isn’t going to work. Kids can smell the “nice grown-up” scam a mile away. At least I used to be able to, if memory serves me right.
Holly crosses her arms and grins wickedly. “It’s been a while since we hung out, J-dog.” My teeth grind at the nickname. “Hanging out with you is the best. Remember that time in band camp?” she asks with a giggle.
Crossing my arms, I say, “How could I forget band camp and your…instrument?”
Holly lets out a loud laugh. Allie nudges her with an elbow, telling her without words that she’s overdoing it, but Holly lifts the cooler in her hand and her eyes sparkle mischievously at me. “You should join us on our hike. We’re, like, picnicking and everything.”
I clear my throat. “Picnic? Sounds great.” I look at Ben. “Do you mind if I join you?”
He shrugs and stares at a folded paper in his hand.
Allie’s forced smile is wide. “Of course he doesn’t mind. And you can help us find all the plants in our scavenger hunt.” She leans over Ben. “Show him the next couple we’re searching for.”
Still silent, Ben opens the brochure in his hand and points to several pictures of weedy green things.
“Neat, huh?” Allie says, gesturing to the brochure. “They give them out at the ranger station.”
I try to appear impressed. “Very cool. How many of them have you found so far?”
“Twelve,” Ben says, at last speaking. “We have eight more.”