After the gig, Laney and I walk back over to her place. Her parents are there when we get back and we eat dinner with them. They seem nice and they ask me lots of questions which, I’ll admit, are pretty awkward to answer. I never know how to talk to other people’s parents but do my best to be polite and maybe even a little bit funny.
They both head off to bed early, leaving Laney and I to have free reign of the house. So, Laney and I change into our pajamas and then head out to the living room, where we currently are, and pop in a movie. She microwaved some popcorn and brought a couple of nail polishes with her before we settled in.
“You look nothing like your parents.” I comment absently, while I stuff a hand into the popcorn bag. Her eyes flicker off the movie playing on the television and she shrugs.
“They’re not my real parents,” she says offhandedly and pulls her legs to her chest as she settles back into the couch. I feel the atmosphere in the room change and lean forward to grab the remote and pause the movie.
“What do you mean?” I ask in confusion as I look back at her. The glow of the television illuminates her face darkly and I see her suck her cheeks in and look straight ahead.
“They’re not my real parents,” she repeats and shrugs before shifting positions again to lean forward and grab a random nail lacquer off of the coffee table. “My mom gave me up when I was a baby. No biggy,” she tells me while uncapping the polish and focusing on her fingers.
I let out a short scoff, scowling at her as she casually sweeps the polish across her thumb nail. It’s like she thinks I’m stupid, or something. It is a biggy. She’s just too meek to say anything. The determined look on her face as she concentrates on her nails tells me not to press the subject, but I can’t fight the urge to not know.
“Are you sure?” I ask cautiously so I don’t rub her the wrong way.
“Yep!” she says rather enthusiastically and lifts her hand up to examine her handy work. She then turns to beam at me, “I’ve got a great set of parents now, don’t I? Plus, I’ve got a lovely boyfriend and a gorgeous new friend,” she nudges me, “Wouldn’t be right to dwell on the past when I’ve got it ten times better with this life.”
Her large eyes sparkle in the dim lighting as we stare at each other for a brief, silent moment. I nod in agreement with her statement and she chuckles in satisfaction before returning to her nails.
“Besides, I’d rather talk about generic girly things than have a serious conversation, anyway,” she continues while carefully dragging the nail brush across her other nails. I hum in agreement and lean forward to pick out a nail polish to join her.
“Is that so?” I tease while shaking the polish up and she turns to smile at me. The movie is still on pause in front of us but we both ignore it and instead engage ourselves in meaningless girl talk. I find it quite hard to come up with silly topics to talk about, but Laney takes to it easily and guides the conversation until we’re arguing about who’s got the hotter boyfriend. The banter dies down with our giggles until it’s silent again and the TV screen has darkened from lack of use.
I wave my hands away from me to dry the layers of polish I’ve applied while Laney blows on hers. We sit in comfortable silence like this for a few moments until Laney speaks up again.
“So,” she begins, “I’ve never really understood the appeal. What’s Justin really like then?” she asks curiously and I whip my head towards her, startled by the question I’ve never really understood myself.
“Um,” I start, and scrunch my eyebrows together in thought. How am I supposed to answer this question? I’ve got no idea what he’s really like. I’m not even sure if the glimpses I do catch are genuine. “He is what he is.” I answer unsurely and Laney rolls her eyes with half-hearted laugh.
“What does that even mean?” she laughs.
I let out a deep breath and shrug. “I don’t know,” I answer truthfully and kick my feet up on the coffee table. “I never understood the appeal either, but the more time I spent with him the more I got used to him and just kind of…fell for him. Unwillingly, that is. He kind of just stuck. I don’t know how to explain it. It just sort of happened and I can’t get rid of him now. He’s annoying, and stupid, and everything I hate. But, he balances me out and I guess we work.”
Laney laughs in my ear and pokes my side teasingly, “You’ve got it good.”
I scoff and slap her shoulder, “Do not! You do, Miss Heart Eyes.”
“I do not give Sean heart eyes!” Laney argues defensively, giving my shoulder a light push.
“You do.” I state with a devilish smirk, “I feel like I’m intruding whenever I’m around you two.”
She swats my arm and shakes her finger in disapproval, “You’re just jealous!”
“Ha! Nice try, but no.” I tell her and she giggles.
Things get pretty messy after that. We begin throwing food at each other and running about the house, which results in us waking up her parents and getting scolded. When we finally get around to sleeping we’re both still laughing to ourselves and giving one another random slaps here and there before completely crashing.
~*~
“How did last night go?” Sean asks me from across Justin’s garage. I look up from the mic I’m holding in my hand and eye him suspiciously. He doesn’t seem to notice as he returns his gaze to his keyboard and casually runs his fingers along the keys. Justin glances up from his guitar as well and waits for me to answer. For some reason, the topic of Laney and I is very interesting to the entire band. They can’t seem to understand how I’m putting up with her.
“It was great, actually.” I answer while rolling the mic in between my hands. “It’s nice to hang out with another girl.”
“Is it?” Alex asks and raises his eyebrows, “I thought you and Stephanie hung out.”
I sigh. If only they knew my relationship with Stephanie was much more complicated then I let on. Sure, now she’s alright, normal, even, to an extent. But, they shouldn’t be kidding themselves by saying they don’t remember how she used to be not that long ago. She was childish and slightly creepy. We can’t pretend that never happened.
“Yeah, but that was different. She was different, I was different…everything was different.” I frown slightly, remembering how everything used to be. Things were simpler in some ways, more complicated in others. A lot has changed in a couple of months. I know I never imagined I’d spend my first day of summer vacation standing in my ex-enemy’s garage with his friends.
I realize I’ve kind of zoned out and flinch when Justin snaps his fingers in front of my face.
“Earth to Carrots,” he grins. I roll my eyes at the nickname and shove his shoulder back lightly.
“I never left,” I say simply and flick red hair over my shoulder.
Austin picks now to speak up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes even though it’s past noon.
“Remember when your hair wasn’t red?” he asks with a lopsided grin, “It was orange—“
“Was not!” I interject quickly and point a finger at him warningly.
“Oh, I remember that,” Justin smiles amusedly and twirls a lock of bright red around his finger, “That’s where Carrots came from. I still liked your old hair better, you know.”
I slap his hand away and turn on him. “You only liked it to be difficult,” I point out with narrowed eyes.
“Difficult,” Kris sputters, “yeah, you two are good at that. Remember when she showed you up, Justin?”
“She didn’t show me up!”
“I think I did,” I say, my lips curling into a snake-like smile, “and you could barely stand it.”
Justin’s smile drops, the laughter leaving his eyes.
“One time, Carrots. You’d never make it through round two.” He snaps and crosses his arms. The boys make sounds of approval and I know this can only mean one thing.
“Is that a challenge, Justin?” I ask, and copy his stance by crossing my arms and pointing my nose upward. If anyone can pull off the “I’m better than you” pose, it’s Justin.
“It could be,” he smirks, “this could make our summer a little more interesting.”
“It could,” I agree.
“Do you think you can you handle it, Reese?” he asks mockingly.
Standing on my tip-toes, I lean in and whisper, “Positive,” in front of his face and raise my eyebrows in anticipation of a reply.
“Well, then, bring it on,” he winks and struts off to stand in front of the boys who are all looking from one to another in absolute amusement. “I say,” Justin begins, “that we divide up the band again if we’re going to do this right.”
“We weren’t divided last time. That was after you got your butt kicked by a girl.” Sean states with a sly grin.
Ah, I see where this is going.
“We’re not breaking up the band, again.” Alex announces, literally putting his foot down with an audible slap, “I refuse. You know why? Because it sucks being on the losing side.”
I roll my eyes and cross my arms again. “I agree,” I tell Justin, “We’re not doing that, again. That’s a conflict I’m not revisiting, however, we could try something else. Sing-offs are always my first option, but I think you deserve at least a chance at winning this, Justin.” I say smartly.
And let the smack talking begin.
Justin huffs but ignores me and taps at his chin in thought, instead. The garage becomes silent as all try to think of something better than a sing-off. Alex taps his foot and scowls as he glances between Justin and I. Austin hums lowly every few seconds when he rejects an idea and Kris just silently stares off into space. It’s Sean who finally slaps his thigh and stands up from his spot behind his keyboard.
“I’ve got it,” he beams.
We all turn to look at him but he doesn’t elaborate. We just stand there staring back at each other.
“Care to finish that thought?” Austin asks in annoyance when we’ve all waited quite long enough for him to continue.
“Right, drum roll, please.” Sean orders, motioning at Alex who just shakes his head.
“No, bro. You’ve already ruined the moment.” Alex tells him and sticks his drumsticks in his back pocket just to prove his point.
“Fine,” Sean groans, “I was thinking, maybe you guys could write songs.”
My mouth drops open and I being waving my hands and shaking my head with immediate distaste but, of course, Justin jumps in with a willing and enthusiastic, “yes”.
“Really? I ask, unable to stop my head from shaking, “that’s the worst idea ever. I can’t write a song!”
“Hey, Justin, maybe you’ll win this one.” Austin laughs.
“No,” Justin says suddenly and runs his fingers through his hair, “I want at least some competition. It’s only fair. So, she gets to pick a songwriter to work with. I don’t need one, because I’m just that good, and, you know, natural talent…”
“Oh, shut up Justin!” I scoff and swat his arm, “This is the dumbest idea ever—no offense Sean—can’t we just do something like…I don’t know…not writing a song?”
“We’re writing a song,” Justin says smugly, “Now, choose your songwriter before I chose one for you, and that wouldn’t be a smart move because I’d give you Alex and, trust me, he’s probably worse than you at writing a song.”
I scowl and grumble lowly in the back of my throat. Well, isn’t this just my luck. Of course I’d do something stupid like giving into another challenge. Leave it up to me to make all the wrong moves.
And just when I thought Justin and I could get along harmoniously…oh wait.
“Time’s ticking Carrots. You’ve got about thirty seconds to choose one. Pick wisely,” Justin murmurs into my ear with a toothy grin. Yeah, like there wasn’t enough pressure to begin with. I want to win this thing.
My eyes flicker between the three boys I know I’ll have a chance at winning with: Austin, Kris, and Sean. Great, how am I supposed to choose?
“Twenty seconds,” Justin’s voice rings in my ear.
I bite my lip and look from boy to boy. Each one is looking back at me, but not blankly. Austin’s eyes keep flicking over to his right, where Kris stands, but Kris is shaking his head no. Sean’s making no move to help me with the decision, whatsoever so I ignore him completely.
Justin’s taunting voice sings “Ten seconds” and I know I’m doomed for sure.
Austin is now jerking head harder to the right and I look at him in confusion. Kris coughs, bringing his arm up to cover his mouth and I see his finger point to the right purposely as he continues to fake cough. I look over to where they’re pointing and my eyes graze over Sean’s keyboard which has his notebook on it and then it hits me.
Sean.
My eyes finally land on him and he smiles and gives me a subtle thumbs up.
Bingo.
“Sean,” I say, overlapping Justin’s calling of time-out.
Justin stops, looking over at Sean as if he didn’t even know Sean was standing there.
“Really? This should be interesting.” Justin smiles confidently, tapping his fingers together almost evilly. And to think this guy’s my boyfriend is almost unbelievable.
~*~
Sitting cross-legged on my living room couch, I reposition my sketchbook on my lap and chew on the eraser of my pencil. The TV is on but I’m not watching it, instead I focus on the sketch before me. Well, it started out okay but now, as I look at all of the eraser markings, I’m sure I screwed up too many times for the picture to even be noticeable under the smudges.
And there goes my futile attempts to draw animals. I’ve never been very good at them in the first place.
I can hear my mother’s humming from the kitchen as she simultaneously washes dishes and cooks dinner and if it weren’t for the soothing notes I would have angrily tossed my sketchpad across the room. I know I shouldn’t even attempt drawing animals if all they do is frustrate me, but it angers me that I’m not good at it. Some things I can laugh off, but I just can’t seem to laugh this off. I’m an artist, and it irks me that I haven’t yet mastered this.
The couch dips beside me but I don’t look up and continue to glare at the horrid sketch of a horse.
“What’s that?”
I could slap him, but I won’t because I’m not in the mood to fight, at least not after arguing with the boys about songwriting most of the afternoon. I’m drained, and tired from staying up late at Laney’s.
“It was a horse…” I tell A.J., my eyes peeking at him before dropping back to the sketch.
“Really?” he laughs and this time I do slap him and he immediately sinks back into the couch cushions, pulling his legs up to shield himself.
“You’re mean!” I hiss and flip my sketchbook shut, tossing it onto the floor without a second thought.
“Naturally,” he comments and unfolds himself to sit properly beside me.
Mom steps lightly out of the kitchen with a large platter held in front of her. She doesn’t even look into the living room to see if we’re already downstairs—no—she instead screams, “Reese! Aaron!” as loud as she can on her way to the dining room with the pork roast.
“We’re already down here, Mom!” A.J., shouts back at her while rolling his eyes.
“Don’t care! Get your butts in here for supper!” she yells back.
A.J. and I share the same look of annoyance and stand up to head into the dining room. On our way there, A.J. nudges me in the side to get my attention.
“So, when are you gonna tell her about Justin?” he asks, his eyes glinting with mischief.
“When I feel like it,” I tell him and give him a warning look.
“You know, it’s got to be done sooner or later…”
“You wouldn’t.” I say slowly through clenched teeth. I can only see where he’s going with this. The little devil wants to spill the beans himself, well, that’s not happening. I’ve got enough blackmail on him that he should know better than to cross paths with me. It should just be common sense.
He just wiggles his eyebrows and struts off into the dining room.
I follow in a few seconds after him. My dad is already seated at the table filling his plate. I smile at him and he offers a “how are you” to which I answer an easy “good”.
While we fill our plates A.J. keeps catching my eye and smiling. I shake my head and make a subtle gesture to pat my left shoulder blade where I know A.J. has a tattoo and Mom and Dad don’t know, yet. A.J. gets the hint but his confidence doesn’t even sway. He must be trying to intimidate me.
“How was band practice?” my mother asks me when we’re all settled in.
I clear my throat and answer, “It was fun.”
“Mm-hmm, I’m sure.” A.J. notes and grins at me sneakily before taking a bite of mashed potatoes.
“It was, actually.” I tell him while narrowing my eyes and taking a bite of food.
“Uh-huh,” A.J. continues, “and how’s Justin?”
I almost choke on my food but clear my throat again and take a sip of water before answering.
“Irritating as ever.” I tell him surely.
My mother shakes her head, “I don’t know why you’re still with the Heartbreakers if you hate Justin so much.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t call it hate.” A.J. tells her and spoons more food in his mouth while staring directly at me.
I mumble curse words at him from under my breath and glare at him so hard I’m really not sure how he’s not bursting into flames.
“Sounds like it to me.” Dad comments as he raises his glass to his lips.
A.J. shrugs, “I think she says that as a cover-up.”
“I’m not the only one covering things up,” I say lowly between bites of food.
“What was that, Reese?” Mom asks, leaning in more to hear me.
I blink over to where A.J. sits across from me. He’s glaring at me, daring me to tell her.
Warning not received.
“A.J. has a tattoo!”
“Reese is dating Justin!”
My mother’s fork drops from her fingers and she sits baffled before my brother and I. My dad on the other hand is coughing and slapping the table while loosening his work tie. After that, it becomes dead silent.
“A.J.!”
“Reese, you little snitch!”
A.J. stands up, gripping the table angrily while yelling at me and I do the same, kicking my chair backwards, about ready to dive across the table to strangle him.
“Sit down!” My mother’s voice rings throughout the room, practically vibrating the ceiling and floors. A.J. and I stop mid-sentence and scramble back into our chairs.
“What is going on?” Dad asks, his elbow resting on the dinner table with his hand clutching his hair. Obviously, he’s still recovering from almost choking on his food.
“Boyfriend!”
“Tattoo!”
My mother’s eyes are closed, never a good sign. That either means that she’s tired, or that she’s so mad she’s counting back from ten in her head to try and calm down. I’m going with the latter.
“Hold on,” Mom’s voice is unsteady and on the verge of yelling, “which one of you has the tattoo and which of you has the boyfriend because, honestly, I’m not really sure about you two anymore.”
A.J. scoffs and I bite my lip to keep from laughing, but it’s Dad who answers.
“A.J. has the tattoo and Reese has the boyfriend.”
My mom inhales deeply and opens her eyes on the exhale.
“Reese, we’re having a talk after dinner and A.J. you better hope that tattoo isn’t a curse word.”