Cross Me Off Your List

by Nikki Godwin

  The GPS leads us down to an open stretch of beach with a rustic beach home sitting a bit off the street. Cars are parked in the driveway, the front lawn, and on the sand surrounding the house. It’s a fairly open area, away from most neighbors, and definitely rests in a nicer part of Horn Island. Who knew there was a spot around here that wasn’t dirty?

  “Damn,” Noah says, killing the engine on the sand. “Kale’s got a nice spot out here.”

  “It’s his parents’ house, remember?” I say. “But he swears they let him have parties any time he wants, so who cares?”

  Tiki torches light the way around the house to the backyard. A huge bonfire blazes in a pit, and a lot of people sit around on coolers and driftwood logs. Lights are strung around the yard and wrapped around the palm trees. It’s like a mini-beach paradise out here.

  Jace and his band, Sapphires and Sunsets, set up equipment on a deck-turned-stage to the left, close enough to run extension cords from the house. Some people are actually out in the water, splashing around in the darkened sea.

  The first familiar face I spot is one Noah probably hoped to avoid tonight – his brother. Nat rushes over to me and links his arm around mine.

  “Holy. Fucking. Hell,” he says, slowly with an emphasis on the drama. “These slutbags are wearing last season’s bikinis, at least a size too small, with their butt cheeks jiggling like freaking Jell-o. I just want to walk over to them and be like, ‘Put some damn clothes on, bitches.’”

  He leads his brother and me over to where he’s been sitting with Benji and Tank. On the quick stroll over, he contradicts his rant by telling me how he’s all for positive body image and he thinks people should feel sexy in their own skin.

  “But you know, feeling sexy and looking trashy are two totally different things,” he says. He grabs a beer bottle from a cooler, although I know he’s not old enough to drink in America. “You can have jiggly butt cheeks and still be a rock star, but wear some damn booty shorts, not a thong.”

  Noah grabs a beer, but I decline the offer. Benji raises a glass to me, and I wonder why in the hell he’s drinking a fruity girly drink and Nat is drinking beer. I know – I’m stereotyping – but I can just imagine Nat saying something about how girly drinks are better accessories or something. Nat with beer just feels wrong.

  I drop down onto the driftwood log that Benji sits on. “Where’d you get that, and what does it taste like?” I ask.

  He hands me the glass. “Aralie brought it over to Nat, but he didn’t like it, and I figured good alcohol shouldn’t go to waste,” he says. “It’s some kind of strawberry mango thing. Not too bad, though, surprisingly.”

  Noah volunteers to find a girly drink for me, so I hold his beer and sit with Benji and Tank. Jace’s band performs their sound check, and we’re soon joined by Emily, Miles, and Kale. They don’t seem to be strangers to Benji or Tank, so I assume they’ve already made the rounds and met the Hooligans and company.

  “Is this just an open-invite kind of party?” I ask Kale as he stretches out on the sand next to me.

  He tosses a beer bottle into the bonfire. “I don’t really invite anyone. Word just gets around, and people come to hang out. For the most part, everyone brings beer and food. Horn Island people are pretty considerate about that kind of stuff. There’s only one name on my not-invited list.”

  “One name in all of Horn Island?” Benji asks. “Who’s the unlucky one?”

  “Dominic Richardson,” Kale says, leaving a pit in my stomach upon hearing the last name.

  Someone shouts for Kale and asks where they can find more ice, so he quickly excuses himself to go play host to his own party. I exchange a quick glimpse with Emily. I don’t even have to ask.

  “Dominic used to be a Hooligan,” she says, eyeing Miles before continuing. He gives her the nod of approval. “He’s Dr. Richardson’s son. He grew up in Horn Island, but then his dad started buying his way into Dominic’s life. He just changed and became wrapped up in the superficial. He thinks he’s too good for Horn Island now.”

  Benji sips from the straw next to his paper umbrella. Then he studies Emily’s face for a minute. “So where is he now? And why isn’t he one of you guys anymore?”

  Emily laughs. “I’m not a Hooligan,” she confirms. “My boyfriend, yes. Me, no. That’s a lifestyle all its own. But Dominic is at college, out of state. When he was a Hooligan, he always referred to Kale as an ‘honorary Hooligan’ since he’s a transplant from Hawaii and not an actual Horn Island kid. So Kale has a particular dislike for him, with good reason.”

  Noah returns as Emily tells us about how the Hooligans took Kale in as one of them because he could surf circles around everyone else they’d met in the area. I wonder if he wants to get sponsored too, if that’s the ultimate dream for the Hooligans as a whole.

  “I took a sip,” Noah says, handing me the glass. “Strawberry mango something is a pretty accurate way to put it.”

  I exchange the glass for his beer bottle and taste test the pink liquid. Absolutely perfect. A bass plays behind us, and the skinny kid behind it checks his microphone by meowing into it. I feel like I’m already back at my high school.

  I cuddle up closer to Noah. “So no one attacked you and fangirled about your presence here?”

  He shakes his head. “One girl asked for a selfie, and I took one with her, but then she went back over to her boyfriend and that was it. People are pretty chill here. I like it.”

  Miles and Emily disappear shortly after to join Kale, who has taken up well with Aralie and Jules. I wouldn’t be surprised if Aralie bought a house out here after this week. She seems to fit in quite well with the locals, as much as it shocks me. She seems a bit too rock star for such a low key place like Horn Island or Crescent Cove, but I think she’s met her match with the Hooligans.

  Benji and Noah want to move closer to the stage, and I agree since I need to capture the full essence of a local band performance. Kale plugs in a string of lights that outline the deck. A hazy glow casts over the band.

  “Fuck,” Benji mutters. “This is the dream right here. Intimate setting, small audience, cheap lights. It makes me wish I was back in the coffee shop.”

  Noah shakes his head. “Nah, bro. We’re living the dream. Sold out stadiums, thousands of fans singing our words back to us, full band and light show behind us. We’re living what people dream of,” he says.

  Nat smarts off about how not everyone has the same dreams, but Benji keeps his mouth shut, watching the stage in awe. I wonder what kind of music he played before he got on board with Spaceships Around Saturn. Boybands are such a commercial thing. I never stopped to think that maybe this isn’t exactly what they wanted for themselves – aside from Noah, obviously.

  Jace thanks everyone for coming out tonight, introduces his band – along with his meowing bassist, Alex Stone – and then plays a rocked-out version of a Bruno Mars song. All of the drunken boys and bikini-clad girls make their ways from the shoreline up closer to the deck, treating this like a real concert and not just a band at a party.

  A breeze sweeps up from the ocean, sending a spray of summertime vibes over the crowd. The palm trees sway, rustling against the night, and the lights twinkle around us. Nat freaks when the other SAS covers a Katy Perry song, even though I’m certain Nat’s never kissed a girl or liked it.

  I’m not sure why anyone would ever go to a night club around here when Sapphires and Sunsets could just set up a huge show in Kale’s backyard. I’d be here every time there was an opportunity. Song after song, I lose myself in the nighttime air, dancing around with new friends and a gorgeous green-eyed boy.

  “We’re about to shut this thing down,” Jace announces, “but I’ve been working on a cover song this week that I haven’t quite been able to pull off yet, and I’m hoping someone can help me out with this one.”

  He plays a few chords, and Aralie jumps up and down next to me. I glance at her, and she looks at me like I’m a complete idiot.

&n
bsp; “Music up, windows down, hello?” she asks. “It was the anthem of the summer last year.”

  I shrug my shoulders. “I don’t know that one,” I say. “Who sings it?”

  “Oh. My. God!” Nat shouts in my ear. “Who sings it? Who freaking sings it? Spaceships Around the freaking planet of Saturn sings it.”

  Jules hugs Aralie tightly to him, and Noah shrugs at me, but Benji is on stage faster than I can even scan the crowd for him. For tonight, maybe he can pretend to be someone else and live a different dream.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I toss and turn in Noah’s bed, willing my body to get up for the day, but last night’s strawberry mango buzz still lingers today. I didn’t realize I was such a lightweight, but apparently, three mixed drinks are enough to make me feel like crap the next morning. Or afternoon. What time is it anyway?

  Noah stretches out next to me. “You’re leaving when? Sunday? So that leaves…four full days to finish your list,” he says, answering his own question before I can.

  “Mm-hmm,” I hum. I close my eyes and settle back into the pillow. “Maybe I’ll eventually get up and we can knock something out today.”

  I feel his movement next to me and open my eyes, but I don’t move from this position. I could literally just stay here all day. The nightlife is better anyhow.

  “I sort of have this thing tonight,” Noah says. “I was going to skip it, but Milo begged me to go along. But you can come too.”

  “What sort of thing is this?” I ask, forcing myself to sit up.

  “This album release thing,” Noah says. His eyes shift, and I know there’s more to this than he’s letting on. “It’s, um, for Sebastian’s Shadow. Chloe did the artwork for their album, and with all the rumors and lies in the tabloids, Milo just really needs some support to smile through it.”

  This little twinge of excitement makes me feel like an absolutely horrible person. But this is real Saturn stuff – drama, cameras, paparazzi. And for one night in my life, I have an opportunity to be in the center of it. It’s exciting, even for a non-fangirl like myself.

  “We can go,” I say, already debating what I’m going to wear. “Is it like a formal thing?”

  Noah seesaws his head, back and forth like an uncertain kid. “Well, the girls are dressing up because there’ll be a lot of cameras, and I think the guys are just wearing slacks with a button-down shirt,” he says. “Matching ties, though. I don’t know why Milo insists on making it feel like a prom.”

  Great. They’ve probably already picked out all of their matching outfits, and now Noah and I will look like we weren’t even planned. Maybe it’ll drive the tabloids away from Chloe and Milo for a few minutes, but I don’t know if I really want to take their cover shot on the hottest tabloids in America.

  “Chloe and Aralie actually invited you to get ready with them,” Noah says. “Our stylists are on hand, and they’ve brought a hair and makeup team with them. They’re going to set up down the hallway in one of the empty rooms. You don’t have to do it, but I’m supposed to relay the message.”

  I take the idea into consideration. It’d be nice to have a girl session, all about hair and makeup and what to wear. That’s the kind of thing I love, the kind of thing I used to share with my friends before it all blew up.

  “You know what? I think it actually sounds like fun,” I tell him.

  He gives me the details of the album release, what time the girls are going to start getting ready, and tells me to let him know what color tie he needs to wear because he doesn’t want to look like we missed the memo. Besides, if he makes a fashion mistake, Nat will never let him hear the end of it.

  I head back down to room 322 so I can shower and clear my head – and hopefully this mild hangover – before meeting up with the other girls. I know I’ve already met the Branson sisters, but Chloe hasn’t gotten a full impression of me yet, and I don’t want it to be a bad one. I don’t really care what Darby thinks since Noah doesn’t really care for her, but I still feel this need to prove myself with the Saturn girlfriends. I may not be dating Noah. I may not really be part of this Saturn world. Still, I have this crazy need to prove I belong to be here with them, on his arm, going to this event. And I will.

  An hour later, I knock on the door of room 417, where Noah said the Branson sisters were already getting ready. Aralie pokes her head out and happily invites me inside. Chloe sits in a chair across the room with a stylist capitalizing on the natural volume in Chloe’s hair. I’d wear flats if I could have that kind of volume in my hair, and I’m not the biggest fan of flats, so that’s saying a lot.

  “Noah talked you into coming along?” Chloe asks.

  I nod and try my best to smile. She seems so wholesome and sweet, and I fear that she’s heard all the not-so-wholesome details of my week here in the cove.

  Aralie closes the door behind us. “It’s a pretty laid back thing,” she says. “I mean, Sebastian’s Shadow isn’t an orchestra or anything. They’re a rock band. We’re only dressing up because the cameras will be there, and we have to keep up appearances.”

  Keeping up appearances seems to be the thing around here. I wonder what would happen if they all dropped the act and said what they were really feeling.

  Someone knocks on the door behind me. I move out of the way so Aralie can intercept whoever it is. She laughs and opens the door for some young guy with light brown hair. A gummy worm hangs from his mouth.

  Aralie sighs. “Is it some Tate Kingsley standard that you must enter a room with candy in your mouth?” she asks.

  “Technically, it’s hanging out of my mouth,” he corrects her. Then he looks at me like he knows who I am, even though we haven’t officially met. “Gummy worm?”

  He holds the bag toward me, and I start to decline to offer, but eating an insect is on my list. I don’t know what the hell they plan on eating in LA, but this counts as mine.

  “Yes,” I say, reaching into the bag. “Eating a bug is on my list, so I have to document the moment.”

  I reach into my pocket for my cell phone and prepare for the goofiest selfie ever, but Tate jumps over next to me, throws an arm around my shoulder, and grabs my phone from my hand to take the selfie of us together.

  Tate admires the photo. “Best selfie you’ll ever take just because I’m in it,” he says. “And you know, gummy worms. Who doesn’t love gummy worms?”

  He hops back over to Aralie to discuss tonight’s plans, so I take it upon myself to sit with Chloe and try to get to know her a little bit.

  “Are you excited about tonight?” I ask, hoping she’ll take the reins and lead the conversation.

  “Nervous,” she says. “I’ve played around with some designs for Spaceships Around Saturn, but none of those have actually gone to print. This one has, and it’s for my favorite band ever, so it’s a pretty big deal.”

  I lean back in the chair as the stylist unravels the curls in Chloe’s hair. She shakes them free to give it a ‘beach hair’ kind of look. She examines her hair in a hand mirror.

  “You don’t like the waves?” I ask. “I’d kill for volume like that. I think it looks amazing.”

  She shrugs and places the mirror back on the table next to her. “I’m just overthinking all of it,” she says.

  After both Branson sisters complete their looks for tonight, the makeup artist touches up my lipstick and gives me a sample to take with me for touching up throughout the night. Darby’s mom hovers over her, making sure the stylists don’t let her baby girl look too glamorous for her age. What a downer. I’m surprised she hasn’t volunteered to chaperone tonight.

  I step into the bathroom-turned-dressing room and slip into a sleeveless silver sequined dress. It’s cut just above the knee and flows with my movements. I wonder if they’ll let me keep it as a souvenir. If not, my dad’s credit card may persuade them otherwise.

  Item number nineteen – dress like a star. I’m not sure if they meant super star or twinkling star, but right now, I’m dressed like
both. I’m officially crossing that off the list.

  Aralie knocks on the door and asks if I’m dressed yet. I slip out of the bathroom to find far more people than I expected crammed into the tiny hotel room. Milo leans against the wall with his arms folded. He looks as though he could spit bullets and is biting down on his lip to keep from injuring anyone.

  “It’s simple enough. I’m not going if you’re wearing that,” Milo says, nodding toward Chloe in her red dress.

  I analyze her, as a fashion guru would, but I don’t see the problem. It’s pretty simple. Yes, it’s short, but all of our dresses are knee-length-ish. Plunging neckline, sure, but it’s not like her boobs are hanging out. It’s sexy in a sophisticated sort of way. It seems fitting of a Branson sister.

  When Chloe doesn’t react, Milo continues.

  “Are you aware of how many cameras will be there tonight? How many photos do you think will be taken out of context? I’m not putting myself through that,” he says.

  Aralie huffs and folds her arms over her chest. “So you think if you don’t go, you’re making a statement? You’ll be making the exact statement that the headlines are already accusing you of, you idiot,” she snaps.

  So this is Saturn behind the scenes. This is how they deal with rumors and lies in the tabloids. Those smiling magazine covers and nonchalant interviews dismissing rumors are all just for the camera. It really does get to them.

  “I’m not arguing with you, Aralie,” Milo says. He pushes himself off of the wall, but he doesn’t leave. “I’m not going to escort my girlfriend to some party so she can pose with the guy everyone thinks she’s cheating on me with, especially if she’s wearing that.”

  It amazes me that Chloe doesn’t say a word through all of this. If that was my boyfriend, I’d completely flip out on him for acting that way. Then, for half a second, I wonder if maybe there is something going on with Isaac Torrey since she’s not reacting. Then again, maybe she’s had this argument so many times that she’s decided it’s not worth having again.