“See you then.”
***
Jessica and I saw JJ in the parking lot on Monday morning. He was back to his usual self—his perfectly tousled hair being ruffled by a gentle breeze as he climbed out of his obnoxious car, sunglasses firmly in place and girlfriend in tow. I didn’t need to be a fashion expert to know that the royal blue blazer stretched across his shoulders was stupidly expensive, just like the “authentically” aged leather boots that capped off his rich-but-rough look.
He draped his arm around Kelly, and she snuggled up to him, smiling smugly at everyone they passed. JJ nodded briefly at Jess and I as he strolled by, but didn’t say a word.
I couldn’t help the pang of disappointment that accompanied his public dismissal. I kinda thought we had had a moment back at the shop, but clearly, I had over analyzed the situation (as usual).
“He looked better on Saturday,” I said to Jess as we headed into the bustling building.
“He still looks pretty damn good from where I’m standing,” she replied, flicking an appreciative glance at his denim-clad ass.
“First rule of having JJ Keswick in our band—no dating him. We all know he’s the love ‘em and leave ‘em type, we need to avoid that kind of drama.”
“Oh please,” Jessica giggled, rolling her jewel bright eyes. “Like I would date someone like JJ freaking Keswick.”
We watched him disappear among his usual adoring masses before saying our own goodbyes. I tried not to think about JJ, but I kept running into him. I nearly collided with him in the cafeteria, and he had to walk by my desk to get to his seat in English. Our eyes met and locked every time. I could see the conflict there.
I don’t know what I expected, really. JJ was as far away from me on the social scale as it was possible to be. He was an athlete, rich, stupidly attractive and way more charming than he had any right to be. I was the semi-orphaned, wild-haired, socially awkward gay kid who had more guitars than friends.
I hadn’t been expecting some sort of seismic shift just because we’d spoken to each other, but I kind of thought he would at least acknowledge my existence.
By the time school finished for the day, I was flustered and a little agitated. I practically bolted to my locker, letting out a sigh of relief when a familiar scrap of paper fluttered to my feet as soon as I opened it.
Irresistible (Fall Out Boy)
I fished out my iPod while I waited for Jess, shoving the earphones in as I scrolled through the artist list to find Fall Out Boy. I could see JJ out of the corner of my eye, walking towards me. The song fit my mood perfectly, the staccato bursts of the first verse vocals keeping time with the reflexive twitch I felt with every step JJ took past me, down the hall and out the front door.
I was still humming the song to myself when Jessica appeared with her overloaded bookbag slung over her slender shoulder. She beamed up at me, tugging one of the earphones out, so she could listen too.
“Latest recommendation from your secret admirer, huh? I love this song!” she said, doing something that looked like a cross between a shimmy and a half-twirl.
“Me too,” I replied, smiling for what felt like the first time in hours.
***
I was twitchy all day Wednesday, counting down the hours to band practice. Usually, I’d be excited because I’d be spending time with my friends—band practice was always fun, even when we didn’t have a singer.
The butterflies in my stomach went beyond excitement—all because of JJ Keswick. I couldn’t wait to hear him sing again, with the full backing of the band. I smiled like an idiot every time I thought about it.
I didn’t see him at school, but that wasn’t exactly suspicious. JJ usually cut class a couple of times a week, reappearing with his wicked grin and a letter from his so-called therapist. I was a little disappointed when I didn’t see him around, but I shrugged it off.
I was more concerned about my mysterious note-leaving friend. After my usual note on Monday, the song recommendations had stopped. I knew it was stupid to be concerned about a complete stranger, but I couldn’t help it. The notes had been so consistent that I actually felt a little lost without them.
I was already a little out of sorts by the time band practice started. Jessica and Ash were jamming in the practice space while Dylan and I waited downstairs in the shop. Some of the shelves were looking a little empty, so I was taking the chance to stock up while we waited on JJ.
Seven came and went with no sign of him. Jess wandered downstairs, looking vaguely disappointed. Ash continued to beat the hell out of her drums for a while before stomping into the shop with a face like thunder.
“What time is it?” she barked as she climbed onto the countertop with Jess.
“Seven forty-five,” I replied glumly as I stuck some price labels on the sale stock.
“You did tell him seven, right?” Jessica asked, her hopeful expression crumbling when I showed her the text message I’d sent him that morning to remind him.
“You guys should go,” I told them with a sigh. “There’s no point hanging around.”
“What are you going to do?” Jess asked me as she pulled her denim jacket on.
“I’m gonna finish with the sale stickers, then I’ll go home,” I shrugged. “Text you later?”
“You’d better,” she warned me, going up on her tiptoes to press a quick kiss to my cheek as she passed me.
She didn’t say anything, but I knew that the kiss was her way of sharing her disappointment. I was angry with myself for believing JJ was capable of following through on his commitment. I had foolishly invested a lot of time in Daydream Three, all for nothing. I should have known better, but JJ had been so convincing.
It hurt more than I was willing to admit.
The bell above the door tinkled cheerfully while I was in the stock room. I picked up a box of CDs before heading back to the front of the shop, assuming Jessica had forgotten something.
JJ was sitting on the floor, his back pressed against the worn wood of the counter. He was wrecked, his hair falling into his red-rimmed eyes when he turned to look at me.
“Sorry I’m late.”
His words were slow, his speech slurring in my stunned silence. I could tell he was drunk, the tremble in his hands giving him away as he tried to scramble to his feet.
“You’re drunk,” I accused him, putting the box of CDs on the counter, so I could help him up. He stumbled in my grip, but didn’t fall.
“Just a lil’ bit.”
“It’s not even eight o’clock!” I fumed, releasing him when I was certain he wasn’t going to fall.
“I hate Wednesdays.”
I rolled my eyes, refusing to dignify his ridiculous statement with an answer. He swayed on the spot for a moment, looking sick to his stomach.
He didn’t say a word as I started putting the CDs on the shelves. I glanced over my shoulder at him every so often, hating that he still looked so good. The fading light was kind to him, painting his surprisingly slight frame in muted golds and subtle pinks.
“You should go home, JJ,” I told him after I had finished restocking. “I gave you a chance and you blew it, just like I knew you would.”
“Then why did you say yes?” he asked morosely, tucking the longest strands of hair behind his ears so he could fix his bleary, blue eyed gaze on me.
“You surprised me once,” I confessed with what I hoped looked like a careless shrug.
He seemed genuinely upset as I turned to look at him. I wasn’t sure how he’d gotten to the shop—his car wasn’t parked outside, not that he was in any fit state to drive. I really didn’t want to drive him home, but the thought of just kicking him out made me feel uneasy.
“I can surprise you,” he insisted, stumbling as he reached out to me. “I can, Jack, I just . . .”
“Need to go home,” I ended his sentence for him. “This isn’t going to work.”
He nodded once, sadly, his shoulders hunched. I regretted being so harsh, especi
ally when he looked so devastated, but I knew it was for the best. JJ made me feel all mixed up inside, things were just so complicated when he was around. It would be easier—for everyone—if we went back to our respective lives.
“Well . . . thanks for the chance.”
He left before I could stop him, swaying all the way up the street before disappearing around the corner. I blinked away furious tears as I finished tidying up the shop. I didn’t know why I was so upset. I didn’t want to think about what had just happened. I just wanted to go home and play my guitar until the world made sense again.
***
JJ knew there were two ways to Jack’s heart. One way was music.
The other way was through Jessica Rosenfeld.
Jack and Jessica had been best friends for as long as anyone could remember. JJ hadn’t spent much time in Wayville during his boarding school years, but even he had known that Jack and Jessica were close. Everyone had assumed they would start dating when they got old enough, a misconception that had been dashed when people had started to realize Jack was gay.
JJ liked Jessica, a lot. She was as loud as Jack was quiet. She was as outgoing as he was withdrawn. She needed Jack to keep her steady, and he needed her to make him brave. It was a dynamic JJ had recognized as soon as he’d seen them together—the short, bright-eyed girl, and the tall dark-haired boy.
Jessica had a free period every Friday afternoon, according to the girl in the office. She stayed on campus to walk home with Jack, so JJ knew she was still in the school somewhere. He spent the best part of twenty minutes looking for her, full of grim determination.
He found her in one of the empty biology labs, a dissection tray on the table in front of her. If he wasn’t nursing a two day hangover, he would have been tempted to sneak a peek at what she was working on.
“What do you want, JJ?” Jessica asked without looking up at him.
“Think we could have this conversation after you put your scalpel down?” he asked, flashing his most charming smile.
“No,” she replied, completely straight-faced.
“Okay then. Well, I’ll cut to the chase,” he quipped, winking at her.
She did not look amused.
“I want you to talk to Jack for me.”
“No,” she repeated, sighing as she took off her goggles. “He gave you a chance—against his better judgment, might I add—and you blew it.”
“I know,” JJ admitted, pushing up the sleeves of his hoody. “I fucked up.”
“You were drunk.”
“I usually am.”
Jessica was decidedly unimpressed by his attempt at humor, her frown refusing to budge.
“Look, Jack isn’t the most trusting person. He’s been bullied for most of his life, he has abandonment issues... It was really hard for him to take that chance on you. The band means a lot to him, and you disrespected him.”
“I didn’t mean to,” JJ argued weakly, the sick feeling in his stomach completely unrelated to his hangover.
“So you got drunk by accident?” Jessica snorted, crossing her arms.
“Wednesday was Mike’s birthday,” he mumbled, fixing his eyes firmly on his feet. “Would’ve been Mike’s birthday.”
He could tell by Jessica’s little gasp of recognition that she knew exactly who Mike was. Their paths hadn’t crossed, but everyone knew who Mike was. The best way to become a celebrity in a small town like Wayville was to die young. Jessica may not have known who Mike was when he was alive, but after his death, everyone knew him.
“I’m sorry, JJ,” she said quietly, her expression softening. “I didn’t know.”
“I wouldn’t have expected you to know,” JJ shrugged. “I should have told Jack, but I thought I could handle it. Then I woke up on Wednesday morning, and I just . . . couldn’t.”
“The thing with being in a band is we’re all friends first, bandmates second. You’re new, but Jack isn’t unreasonable. He would have understood.”
“I’m getting that,” JJ assured her. “I’m an idiot. I just really want another chance.”
“I appreciate your honesty,” she told him, putting the scalpel down and closing her textbook. “But I’m not the person you need to be honest with. Jack’s in charge of the band. If you want a second chance, he has to be the one to give it to you.”
“I don’t think he’s talking to me right now,” JJ pointed out with a sad smile.
“Leave that to me.”
JJ watched as she typed out a text on her cell phone. She had sent it before he had a chance to ask her what it said, but she was grinning as she tucked her phone back into her pocket.
“You know the ice cream place just off Main?” she asked him as she picked up her scalpel again.
“Yeah?”
“He’ll meet you there at seven.”
“Wait, what?”
“Well, he thinks he’s meeting me there at seven. He owes me an ice cream cone. But I’ve accidentally double booked myself. Would be a shame to let that ice cream go to waste now, wouldn’t it?”
He beamed at her, the warmth spreading in his chest unfamiliar, but not unpleasant. He hadn’t been so honest with another human being in a long time, he was surprised to see how well it had actually paid off.
“Thank you, Jessica.”
“You can call me Jess,” she told him with a shrug. “And don’t thank me. Now you owe me an ice cream. I’m thinking I’ll have a banana split, with sparklers and sprinkles.”
“Anytime,” he chuckled, still smiling as he left.
“Muther”—letlive.
I knew I’d been set up before I even walked into the ice cream parlor.
JJ’s slender figure was instantly recognizable, from his lightly muscled shoulders to his narrow waist, right down to his skinny jean clad legs. His blond hair glittered in the harsh overhead lights, tumbling over the turned up collar of his tailored jacket in a horribly endearing way.
I hesitated at the door, mentally scolding Jess. I knew she liked JJ and had been utterly charmed by him, much to my annoyance. I had been counting on her to keep me logical, because I was starting to realize that I couldn’t trust my judgment when it came to JJ Keswick. Turns out even the boot wearing, bass slinging, mad scientist girl I called my best friend was no match for JJ Keswick.
“She’s gonna make you pay for this,” I told him as I stepped inside, hands stuffed in my pockets.
His whole face lit up, his smile so radiant that it hurt to look directly at him. Everything about him was so bright in that moment that I forgot who he was or what he had done.
“Banana split,” he confirmed, still smiling. “Extra sprinkles.”
“I’d be careful, if I was you. Jess will lord that sundae over you forever.”
“Yeah? How long has she been waiting to cash in the ice cream cone?”
“Eighteen months.”
He laughed as if he didn’t believe me but found my answer hilarious, childlike joy and teenage cynicism making for a heady combination.
He ordered a couple of strawberry milkshakes for us before leading me to the small red leather-lined booth at the back of the shop. I sat across from him, sipping my milkshake while he fiddled anxiously with a paper napkin.
“So what’s up, JJ?” I asked him.
“I wanted to apologize,” he said, gazing up at me through his long eyelashes. “I didn’t mean to disrespect you, or the band. I thought I’d be okay on Wednesday, but . . . I overestimated my emotional stability.”
I was speechless, struck dumb by how forthright he was being. JJ Keswick was not the type to admit to having emotions, full stop. I’d once heard a rumor that he was diagnosed with alexithymia—an inability to feel emotions or recognize them in others—by his psychology teacher at the ridiculously expensive English boarding school his dad had sent him to. Like most rumors about JJ, I suspected it was bullshit, but you could never be too sure.
“What was so special about Wednesday?” I asked him, using my straw to
stir my milkshake. It was a great excuse to break eye contact.
“You remember Mikey White, right?” he replied, his eyes fixed on the tabletop.
I could feel the milkshake curdling in my stomach as everything fell into place.
Michael White had been one of the school’s top basketball players. I remembered him as conventionally attractive, but smarter than most of his teammates and kinder, too. He had been one of the few jocks to spare me the dime-a-dozen homophobic insults that became part of my daily life after everyone had figured out I was gay.
He had been seventeen when he’d died at the wheel of his car with his best friend, JJ Keswick, in the passenger seat. It had been a Saturday night, and they’d been at a party. JJ had been too drunk to drive, but Mike had been sober, according to the toxicology report. Nobody really knew what had happened, but JJ had survived and Michael hadn’t.
“Yeah.”
“It would have been his birthday on Wednesday,” JJ said, his voice shaking a little.
“I remember you two were close,” I told him, wishing desperately that there was something I could say to lift the weight that had settled across his hunched shoulders.
“He was an idiot. Always acted like he knew what was best for me, even though he wasn’t much older. But he was home, you know? Mike was always just an email or a phone call away. I didn’t . . . I don’t . . . . My life doesn’t really make much sense without him,” he murmured, tears tangled in his gold-tipped lashes.
The fractures in his mask didn’t last. It only took a minute for him to pull himself together, running a hand through his artfully mussed hair as if he could just shrug out from under the weight of his admission.
“Plus,” JJ added, a wicked little grin twisting his mouth as he gazed down at the tabletop. “He was one helluva lay.”
I choked on my milkshake.
“You alright?” he asked with a watery smile, something like mischief sparkling in his eyes.
“I thought you were . . . .” I muttered, a crimson blush burning its merry way across my cheeks, right up to the tip of my ears.
“Straight?” he offered, grinning around the straw in his mouth. “I’m the only child of an old money Republican CEO who was raised in Texas.”
Fake It (The Keswick Chronicles Book 1) Page 6