Bittersweet (41 page)

“Hey. You okay?”

The beautiful boy from the front table appeared beside me. I lifted my head and pushed the hair away from my face, wishing I'd bothered to pull it into a ponytail before coming into work. Perhaps I wouldn't be sitting here now with chocolate sauce and whipped cream coating the tips of it in front of the most gorgeous guy I'd ever laid eyes on.

“I'm great.”

“I think you might have dropped this.” He held out his hand.

I stared up at him for a moment confused, before glancing at his opened hand. Nestled in his palm was a tiny gold lemon, from the charm bracelet Gran had given me on my sixth birthday. How had I lost it? My eyes flickered back to his. “Where did you find this?”

“Next to the pile of whipped cream.” He inclined his head in the direction of the corner booth, his eyes never leaving mine. “I thought it might be yours.”

“It is,” I muttered, completely distracted by his amazing eyes — olive and hazel with golden flecks — very unusual and incredibly sexy.

I stood up, still mesmerized. “Thanks.”

“Not a problem. So, you're a singer.”

Slowly, I sat back down, gazing at him with a puzzled expression.

“How did you know that?”

He had to be new here. There were only two high schools in town, and no way someone as good looking as he was could have gone unnoticed.
Wonder what his name is.

“Lucky guess.” The mystery guy held out his hand. “I'm Adrius,” he said, answering my unasked question.

I placed my hand in his. It was warm but electric, like a low voltage current.

“Hi,” I said, pulling my hand away. “I'm actually more of a composer. The singing is temporary. Like this job. I mean, it's my grandmother's café… or it
was
…”
What is wrong with me? A time machine would be so good right about now.

“I know,” he said, a flicker of amusement crossing his face.

Something prickled inside me, a thrill of fear or excitement. I hadn't decided which.

In his other hand, he held a brochure for the festival. I bit my lip. “Are you going?” I asked, pointing to the leaflet. I couldn't figure out what answer would be better. He did have a great voice, velvety and foreign yet with no trace of an accent. Maybe he was performing too.

He smiled, and all the strength drained out of my muscles. No wonder I dropped the tray.

“Possibly… Are you?”

I squinted. “Actually, I don't think so…”

“That's too bad. I bet you have a beautiful voice.”

“Really… Based on what?”

He shrugged. “Beautiful girl, beautiful voice… It's a sure bet.”

I gave an ironic laugh. “Well, your odds are 50/50.”
Me … Beautiful… He can't be serious.

He leaned toward me and a strand of dark hair fell across his forehead. “But I'm right, aren't I? You do have a beautiful voice, at least fifty per cent of the time.”

The air caught in my throat. “You could say that, I guess.” My mouth felt all dried out.

He smiled victoriously. “I knew it.”

“You know, it's really rude to gloat.” I swallowed, but it didn't help. My tongue still felt like sandpaper. More than anything, I wanted to stay here all evening pinned under his gaze.

Neil came to the counter and stopped in front of us. I looked up at him expectantly, but he didn't say a word, he just stared hard at Adrius.

“Something I can help you with?” he finally grunted.

“No. I'm pretty much finished,” Adrius replied mildly.

“Good. I'm sure you've got somewhere else you need to be. There's the door.” He had a trace of an Irish brogue I'd never noticed before, underlining his harsh tone.

Adrius nodded, taking his cue.

I gave Neil a puzzled frown. It was weird to see him speak to anyone like that. He effortlessly kept his cool with even the most obnoxious customers.

Adrius looked back at me. “Good luck at the competition.”

With a weak smile and a strange knot of regret, I watched him saunter out the door and then turned to Neil.

“Do you know him?”

“I know his type,” he grumbled.

“His type?” I repeated with an arched brow. I was about to ask what he meant when something started buzzing.

“Believe me, Lorelei,” he muttered, reaching under the counter for my phone, “Your life can only get worse with boys like that around.”

Um, let's recap… I dump a tray of food on the most vengeful girl in school, I have to somehow get out of performing on stage and making a complete fool of myself in public, and the only gorgeous guy to talk to me ever gets chased away. Could things get any worse?

Neil handed me my cell. “It's your mother.”

I gave an exasperated sigh. Apparently, they could.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Sweetheart, I have great news! My agent was at a party with someone who knows someone who works with Jonathon Triad, the talent scout for Juilliard. Anyway, I've convinced him he must come and see you perform at the competition Monday night.”

“You what?”

“If you do well, they might offer you a full music scholarship to Juilliard! Can you believe it?”

“But, Mom — I don't know if that's such a good idea. I might not…”

“Shhh, just relax,” she interrupted. “It will all be fine if you don't freak out.”

Way too late for that.
The contents of my stomach were projectile ready at a moment's notice.

“Juilliard has an amazing vocal program. You've wanted to go there since you were little.”

“You mean
you've
wanted me to go there since I was little.”

“That's what I said. I've booked an extra session with your therapist in the morning so you'll be in top shape. Can't risk having you fall flat on your face and embarrassing me again.”

That was so like her, to take even my humiliations and make them her own.

“Of course not. Who wants a repeat of that?” I muttered, chewing my thumbnail.

“Exactly. Especially since I won't be there to run damage control. I leave for Ireland at noon.”

“Oh, right, your tour. How long will you be gone this time?”

“Just a few months. You'll be staying with Great Aunt Camilla again.”

I made a face, the way little kids do when you feed them something they don't like. “She hates me.”

“She doesn't hate you. She's just… hard to warm up to.”

“Well, I hate her.”

“Lorelei Kaylen, I don't have time for your tantrums. I've always done everything I can to support your singing. Is it too much to ask that my only daughter unselfishly supports me for a change?”

I sighed. You could almost hear the soap opera score in the background.

“Now don't waste too much time at that café. You need to practice again tonight. I pulled a lot of strings, and I want things to be perfect. See you soon.” There was an audible click and then silence.

Unbelievable
. I clicked off my phone and poured myself a cup of lemon balm tea. Not that I was crazy about it, but it settles the stomach and mine was now heaving uncontrollably. As a composer, I could stick to singing in private. And up until now, the competition had just been another thing to add to my college application… an extracurricular that showed I took an interest in all aspects of music. Now it could potentially become a huge strike against me being accepted.

I glanced around. The beautiful new boy was gone, and so was the familiar scent of thyme. For the first time since I could remember, the café felt strangely cold. The ocher stuccoed walls with their warm sunny disposition were in direct contrast with mine.

Neil reached over and patted me on the shoulder. “Cheer up,” he said sounding more like himself. “Look at it this way. What else could possibly go wrong?”

What else could possibly go wrong? What else couldn't?
In the course of a few hours my life had suddenly gone from bad to epic.