Wonderwall

  She pouts and crosses her arms, but in true Oliver fashion, he doesn’t even notice. I see everything because like I said before, I live vicariously through strangers. The situation is not happy now, but it’s entertaining at least.

  Oliver flags a waitress and puts our names on the list. Fifteen minutes later, we’re on stage and I have no fucking clue what we’re going to sing. We literally spent those fifteen minutes debating back and forth which song we should pick without reaching an agreement. Then the intro to Africa by Toto starts and I want to throttle Oliver. That was his first suggestion, the one I vetoed on the spot. It used to be one of my parents favorite songs. It brings back too many unwanted memories, too many unwanted feelings. But I don’t want to be a dick and leave Oliver to fend off the wolves alone. He had no way of knowing what a sensitive bastard I am. At least it’s not bloody Abba.

  The alcohol helps, and soon I find myself belting the lyrics out with Oliver. I pretend I’m having the time of my life, I pretend the jagged fissure in my heart didn’t just rip wide open again. I keep on pretending, and pretending, so I won’t bawl my eyes out forever. Before I know it, the song is over and the tough crowd is screaming, whistling, cheering on us. I’m hit by a wave of euphoria, a high I’ve never experienced before. It’s amazing and I want to do it again. But there are other people waiting to take the stage.

  Oliver and I bow like a couple of dorks before we leave the spotlight. As Oliver passes the trio that’s about to go on, he says, “Try following that.”

  We make our way back to the table and cross paths with Chelsea and her friend. I guess Chelsea took Oliver’s rebuff of her Abba suggestion as a challenge. Chelsea is now sporting the same ugly scowl as her companion.

  The trio that followed us is not bad. They don’t get booed, but they also don’t get the same standing ovation we got. Chelsea and her sidekick are next. They do sing Abba. I don’t know the name of the song, I only know Mom used to like it. I tune them out and order another drink. Scotch neat this time.

  “Man, they suck! I don’t think we should be seen with them after that,” Oliver says.

  They must be really bad if Oliver is willing to ditch Chelsea before he sleeps with her. I no longer care. I’m still riding my high.

  Someone pulls out the chair next to mine, and I glance in their direction. I raise my eyebrow, waiting for an explanation from the short man sitting next to me. I know Oliver is one second away from telling him to get lost. He doesn’t handle intrusions well. And this guy is invading our space.

  “Good evening, gentlemen.”

  “Hey, that seat is taken, pal,” Oliver says.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t take up much of your time.” The man licks his lips and folds his hands on top of the table. “My name is Hans Armstrong and I work for Schutz Productions. You must have heard of us.”

  I have no bloody clue what this dude is talking about, but Oliver perks up on his seat. “You work for Michael Schutz, the music producer?

  “The very same.” He hands us his business card. “I spot talent for Mr. Schutz, and I gotta say, your performance blew my socks off.”

  “You’re shitting me.” Oliver gapes at Hans.

  “Mr. Schutz is putting together a new band and I think you should audition for him.”

  Oliver and I stare at each other, unable to hide our emotions. I can see that Oliver is impressed and in awe. My feelings are different. I’m leery and kind of skeptical. Shit like this doesn’t happen in my world.

  “Think about it. This is a once in a life time opportunity. Call me if you’re interested. Mr. Schutz will be in London until the day after tomorrow, so think fast.” He stands up and leaves OIiver and me sitting there like two stupid kids who have forgotten how to speak.

  “Did that just happen?” I turn to him.

  “I don’t know. Pinch me.”

  I do it, kind of hard, and Oliver punches my arm. “Wanker!”

  I pick up the card and inspect it. “You know, this could be an elaborate joke.”

  “Nah, I think he was telling the truth. What do you say? Shall we go for it?”

  I can’t deny that I loved singing on that stage. But the thought of doing it for real has me apprehensive. What will happen if this Schutz guy likes us? What if we get famous? I laugh at myself. What are the odds we’ll get picked? I’m being ridiculous. But it would be fun to audition. A new experience, a different kind of high.

  “Yeah, why not? But what about your dad? He’ll flip if he finds out.”

  Oliver smiles like the imp he is. “Exactly. One more reason to try.”

  Chapter 15

  Olivia

  I sit by myself at the white-lined table and play with the corsage on my wrist. The dress Mom picked pinches my skin, and I can’t wait to get out of it and back into my comfortable clothes.

  After months of nagging, Jordan finally convinced me to attend prom with him. It’s the last place I want to be. But Saylor ganged up against me with my family, and here I am, having the time of my life. Not. Jordan is next to the refreshment table with his friends. I can feel him glance in my direction from time to time. I know he’s telling his sidekicks how he plans to take my virginity tonight. He’s that transparent. We have been dating for almost a year now, and I still haven’t slept with him. No wonder he assumes I haven’t traded in my V-card yet.

  The first year after Sebastian left, I became a recluse. I went through the motions, going to school, coming home, eating, sleeping, like a robot. Numb. The only time I let my emotions take over was when I poured my heart out in the daily emails I sent him. He never replied to any of my messages, but I still held on to the hope that my words would penetrate the barrier he had put between us. Then one day, my email bounced back. The account I was trying to reach was nonexistent. My heart shattered into a million pieces all over again that day. He had severed the last link I had to him.

  Jordan began hounding me soon after that. He asked me out relentlessly for over a month. I didn’t fancy him, or any other boy at school, but I was sick and tired of the looks of pity my parents and Kimmy kept giving me. And Saylor was also on my case, saying that I was too young to throw in the towel like that. So I gave in, and Jordan and I became an item.

  I stare at Jordan and think that maybe I should sleep with him already. Get that out of the way. Finally rinse Sebastian’s taste out of my mouth. In another life time, I could have been attracted to Jordan. I can’t deny that he’s super cute. His light blond hair is a nice contrast to his forever tanned skin. His body is ripped thanks to hockey. So why can’t I feel an ounce of desire when he kisses me?

  He comes back to the table and sits next to me, leaning closer to whisper in my ear. “Do you wanna get out of here?”

  I look at him and take a deep breath. I’ve made my decision. “Yeah, sure.”

  Predictably enough, Jordan has a room booked at the same hotel where prom is being held. I don’t say a word through the entire process, him going to the reception to pick up his card key, us entering the elevator, us riding the elevator, us walking side by side in the hallway toward our room. But when Jordan opens the door and expects me to follow him inside, I freeze. He looks over his shoulder, then turns around when I don’t move.

  “Liv, are you coming?”

  I can see the bed from where I stand and, out of nowhere, a burning sensation erupts behind my eyes. My gaze shifts to him again and the panic in my eyes is too obvious. His expression crumbles.

  “I’m sorry, Jordan. I can’t do this.”

  “Liv, come on. Don’t be like that. Just come in so we can talk.” He takes a step toward me, and raises his arm.

  I shake my head and shuffle back, the first tears spilling down my face. “I tried Jordan, I really did.”

  Then I bolt.

  “Liv, come back!”

  I hit the elevator button and the
door opens immediately. Thank God it’s still on our floor. I don’t know if Jordan has followed me or not, but I don’t care. All I want to do is get out of here. I think about calling Saylor, but the thought of ruining her prom makes me feel even worse than I already do. I did enough damage already ruining Jordan’s.

  I hail a cab and give the driver Kimmy’s address. She and Owen have just moved in together and their house isn’t far from Littleton’s downtown. I call Kimmy on the way over to warn her of my imminent arrival, but it rings and rings before going to voicemail. When the taxi stops in front of her cute, one-story home, I understand why. There are several cars parked on the street, and I can hear music coming from inside of her house. The last thing I need is to break down in front of a bunch of strangers, but I don’t have enough money with me to pay for a ride back home.

  I pay for the fare and make my way to Kimmy’s door. It’s unlocked and I open it slowly, trying to walk in without anyone noticing my arrival. But fate has other plans. Derek, Owen’s former roommate, walks out of the powder room near the foyer the moment I step foot inside.

  His eyebrows shoot up. “Liv? What are you doing here? Wasn’t prom tonight?”

  I don’t have time to school my emotions, and he notices right away that I’m about to crumble. He breaks the distance between us and touches my arms.

  “What happened?” His voice becomes harder, and his cool, steely gray eyes narrow at me.

  “Nothing.” I stare at his chest.

  He increases the pressure on my arms and I feel something. A zing, a spark.

  “Are you sure?” he asks.

  I look up, right into his eyes. I know he won’t let the issue go until I tell him something. “I broke up with my boyfriend.”

  Derek drops his hands from my arms and takes a step back. Conflicting emotions swirl in his gaze, and that intrigues me.

  “You probably wanna talk to Kimmy, huh?”

  “Yeah.”

  His eyes dart around the room and he scratches the back of his head. I can’t help but notice how the sleeve of his polo shirt strains against his biceps. I feel another spark, right in the pit of my stomach. My strange reaction to Derek’s proximity is making my head spin. I’ve hung out with him in the past and felt nothing.

  “She stepped out with Owen to get more ice. She should be back soon,” he says.

  “Oh, that’s okay. I’ll just hang out in her room until she comes back.”

  I don’t move. Instead, I stare unabashedly at Derek. I haven’t seen him in a year, and he’s even better looking than I remember. I don’t know why, all of the sudden, I’m feeling what I’m feeling, but I don’t want to overanalyze it. It seems my body is finally waking up from a thousand-year sleep. I want to see where this leads.

  Derek’s eyes drop to my lips and he swallows hard. I think he wants to kiss me, and I’m caught by surprise when I realize I want him to.

  “Why don’t you come outside on the patio, everyone is there.” He turns his head toward the back of the house.

  “I don’t know…” I let my voice trail off.

  He runs his hand through his light brown hair, and I get the urge to do the same. My fingers are itching to do the same.

  “I’m such an ass. You probably don’t want any company right now,” he says.

  Kimmy’s home has an open floor plan, and from the foyer I can see the kitchen counter and the bottle of tequila on top of it. Derek follows my gaze.

  “Do you wanna a shot?”

  I’m already moving toward it, and before Derek can stop me, I pick up the bottle and take a huge sip from it. The liquid burns my throat, but I gulp it down without even choking. Derek rips the bottle away from me a second later.

  “Easy there, girl. Owen will kill me I get his baby sister drunk.” He’s frowning and the warring emotions are back in his eyes.

  “Owen is not my brother.” I glare at him.

  “That’s a technicality.” He puts the tequila bottle down, and positions himself between me and the counter. It’s like he’s shielding the booze from me with his own body.

  I don’t know if it’s the alcohol already coursing through my veins, but I let myself be snared by Derek’s stare, and a slow fire erupts in my belly before moving south. I haven’t felt something like that in so long that I almost don’t recognize it. Desire. Then I do something completely out of character. I kiss Derek. No, not kiss. I attack his mouth. He resists for only two seconds before giving in to my assault. And boy, does he know how to kiss. The slow fire has turned into a churning volcano, consuming everything in its path.

  Derek pulls back and I want to follow him, but he puts his hands on my shoulders so I can’t. His touch burns my skin, and I begin to imagine all the things he can do to my body with those hands.

  He peers into my eyes, breathing like getting air into his lungs is an impossible task. “Not that I’m complaining, but what are you doing?”

  “I’m cleansing my palate,” I say.

  His eyebrows scrunch together and his look of confusion is so freaking adorable, I melt on the spot. “I can’t be your rebound guy, Liv.”

  “Why? Because I’m Kimmy’s little sister? I’m eighteen, Derek.”

  He brings his forehead down to mine. His hot breath caresses my skin and I close my eyes. Sebastian’s image appears for a fleeting moment, and before it can douse the fire I had forgotten for so long, I banish it to the darkest corner of my mind. I bring my hands up to Derek’s chest, and I can feel his heart beating at an increased pace just like mine is.

  “Don’t say that.” His voice is strained and his fingers dig into my skin.

  “Why not?” I whisper.

  “Because now I don’t have any excuse to push you away.”

  “I don’t want you to push me away.”

  I do what I wanted to five minutes earlier, and run my fingers through his soft hair. Derek closes his eyes and locks his jaw tight. He’s fighting the attraction between us. I’m beginning to think he’s been fighting it for a long time.

  “What do you want from me, Liv?” He lets go of my shoulder and his hands drop to my waist, then my hips. He’s giving up the fight.

  “I want you.”

  Chapter 16

  Sebastian

  I can’t believe Oliver and I made it to the final rounds of audition. We called Hans Armstrong the following day after the karaoke bar, and he put us on the list. We only found out later that the other guys had to wait in line for hours, months before, to guarantee a spot and many hopefuls had been sent away.

  The first round was awful. Not only did I have to sing in front of a bunch of strangers, but they had also expected me to dance. They split us into groups and taught us a quick choreographed routine. I don’t dance. Never could. I almost walked out of the stage. If it weren’t for Oliver, I would have. I couldn’t memorize the steps and my performance was akin to a drunken hippo walking on stilts. Needless to say, no one was impressed. I actually couldn’t believe it when they told me I had moved on to the following round.

  “Do you have any idea what are we expected to do now?” Oliver asks next to me as we wait for the audition’s coordinator to call us.

  I shrug. “Probably more singing. I hope they don’t make me dance again.”

  Oliver chuckles. “Remind me to ask for a copy of that tape.”

  “Sebastian Coleman?” the coordinator calls my name.

  I take a deep breath and stand up, jitters taking over my body. I thought auditioning would be more fun than this. I guess I never believed I would advance this far in the process. Now that I’m so close, I want to be selected.

  “Break a leg,” Oliver says as I walk toward the unknown.

  I enter the empty, semi dark theater—the only source of illumination is coming from the fully lit stage. I glance at the few seats taken. Hans is there, lo
oking bored out of his mind. For a guy whose job is to spot talent, he doesn’t look like he actually enjoys his gig. There’s a lady with a mass of curly blonde hair sitting next to him. I recognize her as the choreographer who thought I could memorize a dance routine on the fly. And lastly, there’s the head honcho, the guy who has the final say on who gets picked and who doesn’t—Michael Schutz.

  I get on the stage and move to where the mic is. I stand under the spotlight, uncertain of what I should do. On a hunch, I have brought my guitar with me this time. I figured that if I had to sing again, I could pick one of my favorite songs. Also, the guitar is a great shield.

  “All right. Sebastian Coleman, is it?” Michael Schutz addresses me.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I see you brought reinforcements. Are you trying to compensate for your lack of bare minimum body coordination?”

  Heat rushes to my cheeks and I curl my hands into fists. “No offense, sir. I have plenty of body coordination. I just don’t dance.”

  Blonde lady snorts, and Hans rolls his eyes. To my surprise, Michael actually grins.

  “No shit you don’t dance. I’ve seen elephants with more grace,” he says.

  I don’t know what to say to that, so I keep my mouth shut and shuffle on my feet. Is he going to ask me to sing or what? The anticipation is killing me. I want this stupid audition to be over already so I can go back to my miserable life.

  Michael glances down at his stack of papers, then at me again. “Tell me, Sebastian. Why should I pick you to join this band over the other twenty remaining candidates who can sing as well as you, and can dance?”

  I don’t even let myself process his words. I say the first thing that comes into my head. “I can’t tell you why you should pick me. I can’t read your mind or pretend that I understand how this business works. All I can say is that I’ve been spending the last two years of my life seeking the most exhilarating experiences, the most mind blowing highs, and nothing, absolutely nothing compared to the feeling I got when I was singing in that karaoke bar where Hans found me. I can’t dance for shit, that’s true. But I was a hockey player once, a pretty damn good hockey player. If I can play that game, I can learn jumps and pirouettes.”