Her tone was on the mocking side, and I could tell she was excited to be able to converse with me about a subject I usually knew much more about.
“You know I never listen to the radio,” I said in my defense, and maybe a little snappier than I’d intended. “It’s so repetitive and unoriginal. Just like the people who listen to it.”
“Ouch,” Keely said, looking up in surprise, her eyebrows rising. “But apparently you’re just as unoriginal if you’re listening to the same music that they play.”
Ooh, burn, I thought sarcastically, fighting the urge to roll my eyes at her snappy retort, because I realized too late that I was guilty of doing the same thing to her.
It was exactly what I’d been doing for the past few months, snapping and getting upset at people when they didn’t deserve it. My ‘I’m great, everything’s perfect façade’ was starting to slip farther away, and my true feelings were coming out more often. I was having trouble even keeping up the ruse that I wasn’t irritated with the world, and I never knew when my act would be overtaken by my inner bitch. Just like during my fight with Rachel two weeks earlier, and the two arguments I’d had with Ben since then, hurtful words just seemed to fly out of my mouth, no matter how harsh they were. It was extremely disconcerting.
“I’m sorry,” I said quickly to Keely, catching myself too late. “I really wasn’t trying to be a bitch.”
“It’s cool,” she said, looking back down at the CDs and seeming truly unfazed.
She was laid back enough that most things didn’t affect her for more than a few seconds. It made me a little jealous to be honest, and in fact drew the line between me and my siblings even deeper as of late. Growing up, I’d always been more focused to the bigger picture, so I’d been able to let things others did roll off my back. But recently it seemed like everything affected me, sometimes to the point of extended frustration that I just couldn’t shake. I longed for the days when I could easily forgive and forget, but it seemed they were long gone.
“Who’s this band?” Keely asked then, pulling me from my personal pity party. “July for Kings? What does that even mean? Where does Rachel get this stuff?”
She looked up at me, as if I would know the answer.
I shrugged. “Who knows? It’s a good album, though. You can borrow it, if you want.”
She set the CD on the floor by her feet. “What about Liar’s Edge?” she asked, looking up at me expectantly. “Are they any good?”
“Liar’s Edge,” I echoed, crossing the space between us and snatching the CD out of her hands, “is the single most fabulous unsigned band ever.”
“Ok-ay,” Keely said, looking at me like I was insane.
Of course, my voice had spiked about three octaves, and the emotion I was feeling was palpable in my words, so her look was entirely understandable. But that was because she didn’t get it.
I looked down at her, my eyes alight with excitement as I held up the CD. “This is the most amazing band I have ever heard,” I explained, the passion dripping from my voice as I spoke of my favorite band. “You’ve heard them. I’ve played their stuff in the car before. They have a song called Regret that you loved. Fast beat, hauntingly beautiful lyrics?”
She shook her head, smirking at my use of the term ‘hauntingly beautiful’. I could tell she had no idea what I was talking about.
So I told her the story of how Rachel and I discovered Liar’s Edge two years earlier. We had gone to a club in Durham to see them play after our high school friend, Chris DeLuca, who was a freshman at Duke, recommended them. We’d gone because we liked live music, but also because Rachel had hooked up with Chris when we’d been home for Thanksgiving the weekend before. She’d wanted to see him again before deciding if she wanted to cut him loose or not.
Ironically, Rachel had almost immediately decided she wanted to cut Chris loose after she saw the drummer from Liar’s Edge. He was this ridiculously tattooed guy who played without a shirt on the whole set and kept flicking his shoulder length blond hair out of his eyes. I didn’t quite see the allure, but that might have been because my attention had been wholly fixated on the lead singer. He was sexy and smoldering, and his voice was hypnotic. My gaze was glued to him the entire show, and it was the only time I’d ever seriously considered cheating on Ben.
Aside from being hot, though, Rachel and I were both blown away by the depth the band had. I wouldn’t have been surprised if our mouths were hanging open throughout the whole show. We each bought their CD and then waited around to see if we could talk to them afterward.
Rachel cornered the drummer at the bar – he had thankfully put on a shirt. So I followed her and stood quietly while she flirted, sipping my beer and simultaneously stealing glances at the lead singer across the bar, disappointed to see that he had two very attractive blonds attached to his arm. Of course, I had a boyfriend, so it wasn’t like I was going to act on my feelings of lust, but I justified that I could admire him from afar. Which I did until Rachel started making out with Drummer Boy, and I’d decided to call it a night.
I went home and listened to their CD over and over until I fell asleep, not able to shake the way the lead singer’s voice made me feel when he belted out lyrics that all seemed to resonate with me just a little too well.
After that night, partially because Rachel was pissed that she’d gone home with the drummer and he’d never called her, and because I was obsessed with their music, we’d desperately tried to track down Liar’s Edge, wanting to see them live again. We never made it to another show. When we saw Chris over Spring Break, he told us they’d just completed a local tour around North Carolina and were taking a break. By the summer, he reported that they’d broken up.
Rachel and I had been bummed, but we still listened to their album non-stop. It had been awhile since I’d heard it, but suddenly I felt like I needed to hear those songs again. I needed to go back to a time in my life when an album could make me smile or a great band could send me over the edge. It had been a long time since I’d felt that way.
“If they’re so amazing, why haven’t I heard of them?” Keely asked me, crossing her arms in front of her.
I walked over to my stereo. “Because they were never picked up by a label, so they never made it to the radio,” I said, hinting at my earlier point that music on the radio was lacking so much. I didn’t think she got my subtle jab. “Just listen. You’ll love them. They have this slow song called Glimpse that is so beautiful. Honestly, it’s one of my all-time favorites.”
I watched my sister’s face as the opening chords to the first song started to play, and I could tell she was hooked as soon as the lead singer opened his mouth. He had one of those rough, gravely voices that sounded incredible regardless of what he was singing, and the band had songs with fast, angry tempos, as well as, ballads with seemingly deep meanings. Their range was unheard of, and I couldn’t get enough of them.
I couldn’t help but wonder what happened to the lead singer, if he was with another band or if he’d given up music altogether. I couldn’t fathom that, since he was so talented, but since I didn’t even know his name, his fate would probably remain a mystery to me.
Keely and I listened to the nine tracks all the way through before either of us spoke. I laid on my bed, closed my eyes and let the music wash over me as I grasped for the spark for life I used to have on a daily basis. Listening to Liar’s Edge, I could feel it around the fringes of my mind, but it was still out of reach for me to grasp.
***
A few hours later Keely was still in my room. We’d listened to the Liar’s Edge album twice before she begged me to change it. She agreed that they were great but requested variety. I obliged, putting ‘Angry Rock 2006’ back on, but turned it down so we could talk.
I didn’t have much to share, so I just half-listened to her talk about everything from cheerleading to her friends to boys she liked, since my mind kept flitting back to the lead singer of Liar’s Edge and his beyond perfect voice.
I couldn’t remember what he looked like, but I’d created a nice image in my head. I was imagining what it would be like to kiss him when I remembered that I had a boyfriend and thinking about kissing someone else was an incredibly crappy thing to do.
So then I made a mental list of all the things I loved about Ben in an effort to convince myself that he really was a great guy. If only he played the guitar, he would be perfect.
Okay, that was uncalled for. Ben’s talents lied on the football field, not on a stage, and I couldn’t fault him for that. I wouldn’t. In actuality, my favorite thing about Ben was watching him play football. It was truly where he was at his best. I could easily picture him lined up on the field, sweat glistening on his face, a look of fierce determination as he watched the center snap the ball. As soon as it was in the quarterback’s hands, Ben would be off like a shot, down the field, looking back for the pass. He would catch it. He always caught it. He was that good.
I spent many afternoons watching him when I was supposed to be concentrating on cheering back in high school. Our squad always practiced by the field house near the east end zone. We would set up facing the field, which allowed us to face the players, giving us something to cheer for, but in reality, it was more of a hindrance, as most of the time the guys provided more distractions than not. Ashleigh Ballast, our captain, always had to snap us back into focus, since we’d often get caught staring at the football players when we were supposed to be saying ‘Go Team’.
Personally, I felt like I had an excuse, since it was hard to pay attention when Ben was on the field. He was incredible to watch, and I loved the way he put everything he had into every play. No matter how tired he was or how much our team was down, Ben focused on each play like it was the most important one of the game. That was why he was the best, why he had gotten a scholarship to play at UNC, and it was why I’d noticed him in the first place.
It was hard not to notice him. He transferred to our high school at the beginning of our junior year. Most people in my group of friends had known each other for years, and the boy pool was pretty dry as far as we were concerned. So, of course, we noticed fresh meat. It was actually Ashleigh who saw him first, which was just fitting. She was exactly the person you didn’t want to get the new guy, but since she worked as an office assistant first period, she was there when Ben walked into school on his first day. As a new student, he had to check in, and Ashleigh was the one who got to do it. It was inevitable that she would make a move for him.
By second period, the entire cheerleading squad knew that the new guy was gorgeous and Ashleigh was in love with him. She went on and on about his blond hair, his blue eyes, and his pecs that she wanted to kiss. Ashleigh had always been bit of a slut, so that comment didn’t shock any of us. She claimed Ben for herself, calling him like he was shotgun, which usually would have annoyed me, but having not yet seen him, I wasn’t really objecting. If he was as gorgeous as she said, I figured he had to be a cocky jerk. Plus, I’d been engaging in a minor flirtation with Andy Callum, a senior soccer player, so I wasn’t interested in the new guy.
As other friends had classes with Ben, they weighed in on everything from his voice to his posture in class to the fact that he seemed to keep to himself, although when he did speak up, he seemed to have a coy air about him. It seemed every girl I knew was completely smitten with him, and I had yet to lay eyes on him.
Apparently none of our classes were the same, and he didn’t eat lunch with our group. I had to go off of what everyone else was saying, but I told myself it didn’t matter. Andy had been sending me flirty text messages all morning, and at lunch he’d stopped by to talk to me just before the bell rang. I knew he was going to ask me out. It was just a matter of when.
Then, that afternoon as we stretched by the field house, I watched the football players out on the practice field. It was hypnotic in a way, as they came off the sidelines together, broke into offense and defense and lined up for the first play. There was chatter all around me, but I wasn’t paying much attention to anything the other girls were saying. I was too engrossed in what was going on across the field. I watched, enthralled, as the play started, the ball was handed off and a player took off running toward our end of the field. The defense tried to catch him, but they weren’t quick enough. With Trace Beckham, the fastest player on the defense, sprinting after him, the player crossed into the end zone with ease.
“Wow,” someone next to me said.
“I know,” came Ashleigh’s breathy voice.
“Incredible,” someone else said.
The player jogged toward us, pulling his helmet off to reveal blond hair that hung damply to the middle of his ears. He shook his hair out, causing drops of sweat to fly from the ends, and grinned at us.
“Ladies,” he said, as he circled past, making his way back to his teammates.
At that moment, all thoughts of Andy Callum flew from my mind and were replaced by the new guy. I watched him jog all the way back to mid-field, and all I could think about was that he’d looked right at me. When he’d addressed the collective group of us, his eyes had been on me. For three brief seconds, his blue eyes had locked with my brown ones, and I was completely captivated.
It took a shove to my shoulder to pull me out of the trance I’d fallen into. As I righted myself, I looked up to see Rachel standing above me with her hand out. It was a few seconds before I realized where I was and what I was supposed to be doing. I reached up and took her hand, letting her help me to a standing position.
“He’s cute, right,” she said, nudging me slightly, as I lined up next to her in the back row.
“Yeah,” was all I could manage to get out. He was more than cute. He was gorgeous.
“You might want to wipe that dazed look off your face,” she whispered. “Ashleigh’s staring.”
I looked up to see Ashleigh glaring at me and remembered then that she’d already claimed the new guy for herself. Her look told me that she’d seen him looking at me and wasn’t happy about it. I quickly let my smile fade, since Ashleigh sort of scared me, and I didn’t want her to think I was encroaching on her territory. If she wanted the new guy, fine, she could have him. Inside, though, I was gloating. Out of the sixteen girls on our squad, he’d smiled at me.
Over the next few weeks, Ashleigh desperately threw herself at the new guy, whose name was actually Ben Grayson. She sat next to him at lunch, flirted with him after practice, and made a point to seek him out before the first game started to wish him good luck, complete with a kiss on the cheek. It was pretty shameless, but apparently it worked. According to her, they’d made out at the first two parties of the year, which had me pouting since I hadn’t gone to either one. I’d been grounded for missing curfew because Rachel had gotten drunk at a party, and I’d been taking care of her. I’d been caught sneaking in late by my none-too-happy father and promptly sentenced to two weeks of no social life when I couldn’t provide a valid excuse for being late. But it wasn’t like I was going to rat Rachel out, so I took my punishment in silence.
The good news was that my pouting spell over Ben didn’t last long. Then I internally smiled for a full week after that. I was partially smiling because my grounding had ended, and I was finally free, but there was also another reason. I had a secret – a secret that was so good that even Ashleigh bragging about how she was going to sleep with Ben at the party after the next game didn’t faze me.
What I hadn’t told anyone was that I’d run into Ben at the gym – the first place I’d gone after regaining my freedom. I’d been coming in, and he’d been leaving. I smiled at him, thinking he probably wouldn’t recognize me, but I could at least be polite. He’d joined our group at lunch on the second day of school, but it was a large group of football players and cheerleaders that sprawled over three tables, so it was possible he wouldn’t remember me. We hadn’t actually been introduced, and since I’d been out of the social scene for two weeks, I wasn’t exactly afforded the opportunity to catch his attenti
on outside of school.
Ben did remember me though. He stopped me when I smiled, and we talked for a few minutes. Then, shock of all shocks, since I completely thought he was semi-seeing Ashleigh, he asked for my number. He proceeded to call me every night over that next week, and we spent close to an hour on the phone each time we talked. By the time Friday came around, I wasn’t sure what we were, but I was pretty sure Ashleigh wouldn’t be doing anything with Ben that night. That was unbeknownst to her, though, since I had the joy of listening as she bragged about what she was going to do to him – very graphically – as we stretched before the game.
I’d gotten up the courage to ask Ben about Ashleigh a few nights earlier. He said she was a fun girl, but he wasn’t interested in anything more than friendship. He admitted that, yes, they did kiss a few times, but they weren’t dating. He actually liked someone else – me! Apparently he’d asked Ashleigh about me when they’d hung out at the first party, and she’d told him that I was dating Andy Callum. So, being a teenage guy, Ben had shrugged and taken Ashleigh up on what she was offering. Then after talking to Andy later on and learning that I was not in fact dating him, Ben decided to ask for my number.
I’d be lying if I said this information didn’t send me floating on air back then. By that point, I really liked Ben, and I would have died if I had to compete with Ashleigh Ballast with her experience and willingness to experiment. I was a virgin at the time, so she would have beaten me hands down if it had come to a battle of sexuality. Fortunately for me, it didn’t. I couldn’t say I was thrilled with the fact that Ashleigh had gotten to Ben first, but in the end, he’d picked me, so I guess I’d won.
That Friday night, I had laid low while Ashleigh monopolized Ben for the first hour of the party, talking and flirting, batting her eyelashes and making any excuse to touch him. I hung out on the back porch with Rachel and watched Ashleigh make a joke of herself. We watched as Ben talked politely to her, but he never once responded to her advances or made any of his own. Then we watched him excuse himself, look around, spot me and walk directly over to where we were standing. In that moment, I was too busy watching Ben to notice anything else, but Rachel told me later, that if looks could kill, I would have been dead. Ashleigh apparently turned red, glared, stomped her foot, and marched off, looking more pissed than she’d ever been.
Broken Fairytales Series Box Set (Broken Fairytales, Buried Castles, Shattered Crowns) Page 3