Escaping Perfect (13 page)

“What's up?” Fiona asked, as she placed the full cups on the counter in front of Shelby and added two plastic tops. “Where're you two headed?”

“Oh, us?” Shelby flipped her ponytail to the side to grin out at Jasper and gave him a wave. He lifted his fingers off the steering wheel in acknowledgement, not bothering to uncurl
his thumb. “We're going down to Nashville. Jasper made that showcase he auditioned for last night.”

“He did?” I asked, surprised. At the same time Fiona said, “That's great!”

Shelby's eyes cut right through me. “Why? Did you think he wouldn't?” Then she looked at Fiona. “It
is
great, isn't it?” She leaned across the counter toward Fiona, pulling her in to whisper, like they were the oldest of friends, “This could really be his big break, Fiona!” Then she stood up straight and turned a snarky smile my way. “Told you he'd always come back to me.”

She dropped a ten-dollar bill on the counter.

“Keep the change.”

It was all I could do not to throw a fork at her back as she strode out on her crazy heels.

“That girl
needs
to fall on her face right now,” I said quietly.

Seconds later, as she reached for the car door, Shelby's ankle wobbled. I held my breath and Fiona held hers as we watched her flail, grab the door handle, and catch herself before she could go down. She did spill half her tea. Though, sadly, it hit the ground and not her pristine outfit. Finally she managed to open the door and lift herself into the car. I couldn't help noticing that, through all of this, Jasper never
got out to offer her any of his gentlemanly assistance. At least that was something.

I had to find a way to get him alone so I could apologize. I had to.

“Lia, what did you mean before when you said you weren't sure you wanted to have anything to do with Jasper?” Fiona asked tentatively.

“I don't know,” I said honestly.

She swirled a towel atop the counter. “Because I was thinking . . . I kind of want to go to his show tonight.”

I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye. “I kind of want to too.”

Then maybe I could corner him and make him hear me out. Somehow.

“Would it be totally insane if we went together?” I asked, wanting to put the awkwardness behind us.

“No,” she said thoughtfully. “But I think we should make a deal first. A truce, kind of.”

I stood up straight, intrigued. “What kind of deal?”

Fiona turned toward me, leaning one hip into the counter. “We promise that neither one of us will make a move on Jasper without telling the other first.”

“That sounds fair,” I said, and offered my hand.

After all, I wasn't planning to go there and throw myself
at him. What I wanted to do was talk to him. See if he'd forgive me for what I'd said and for almost spoiling this chance for him. All I wanted from Jasper Case right now was forgiveness.

“Deal?” Fiona asked, shaking my hand.

I smiled. “Deal.”

Chapter Thirteen

The last-minute tickets we ordered
online turned out to be aisle seats in the very last row of a jam-packed auditorium. The theater was maybe double the size of the theater at my school, which had about five hundred seats. I'd never in my six years there seen it more than half filled.

“This is intense,” Fiona commented, looking down at the well-worn stage and the lights flashing across the orchestra seats. “I don't think Jasper's ever played to more than a couple hundred people.”

“He's probably freaking out,” I mused.

“Jasper? Nah. Nothing bothers him.”

I decided to keep my insider knowledge on that particular theory to myself. Though the fact that Jasper had shared it with me and no one else gave me a warm, fuzzy feeling
around my heart. Too bad he hated me now. Hit with a sudden inspiration, I turned to Fiona just as her butt was about to meet the blue velvet seat.

“I'm gonna go try to find him.”

On the long car ride up to Nashville, I'd told Fiona all about what I'd said to Jasper last night. She totally agreed that I had to apologize. But apparently she'd figured I'd wait until after the show.

“What? Lia, you can't. He's probably backstage. They're never gonna let you through.”

There were three aisles in the auditorium, one cutting the rows of seats in half up the middle, the other two along the sides. I was currently standing in the one to the left of the stage. All the way at the very end, next to a set of stairs that led directly up to the stage itself, was a door covered by a blue curtain. A constipated-looking security guard with round shoulders and a small waist stood next to the entrance, glowering at every person who so much as glanced in his direction.

“What about Britta?” I asked.

“What about her?”

“She's here somewhere, and you said she has a press pass.” Who knew bloggers could reap such perks? But I was glad they did. “Can you text her for me?”

Fiona looked at me like I should have my brain examined.
Clearly, she was not the rule-breaking type. Except when it came to underage drinking. But Lia Washington was all about breaking the rules. I'd spent way too many years doing exactly what I was supposed to. Now I was going to do exactly what I wanted to. And that included tracking down Jasper and apologizing to him before he took the stage.

“Okay. She says she'll get you at the door off the right wing,” Fiona said, holding up her phone.

I started down the aisle. “You coming?”

Fiona chewed her lip, clearly torn between wanting to see Jasper and her total fear of facing down authority. “I'll just wait here.”

She took her seat, and I ended up in the corner, two feet away from constipated security dude and trying not to squirm under his glare, which felt like a physical entity made up of a million tiny swords. Finally the curtain flicked aside, and there was Britta, waving me in.

“She's with me,” she told the scary dude, as if this explained everything. He grunted threateningly, she lifted the laminated pass that hung around her neck with the big word
PRESS
stamped across it, and he grunted again. Fortunately, this grunt was more like a shrug. I was in.

“I have to get back to my interview with Carey Stilts,” Britta said as we hustled backstage together. As if I knew
who Carey Stilts was. The skinny hallway was crammed with musical equipment, spotlights on stands, creeping wires, and people. People everywhere. “Can you find Jasper on your own?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I'm okay. Thanks, Britta.”

She shrugged. “I like to occasionally use my powers for good.”

She turned and disappeared into the crowd. Slowly, ducking behind the back of one security guard and somehow avoiding being nailed in the head by a falling microphone, I made my way down the hall until I came to a corner. To go straight, or to turn? That was the question. The adjoining hallway was just slightly wider, with lots of doors that I assumed were dressing rooms and a few other corridors leading toward the back of the building. Two larger openings facing opposite led up stairs toward the stage. The scene was complete chaos. I immediately regretted letting Britta get away from me. How was I ever supposed to find Jasper in this mess?

Taking a stab in the dark, I turned the corner. A group of harmonizing singers moved past me, and there he was, sitting on a folding chair with his back to the wall. His black cowboy hat was drawn low over his forehead, his forearms rested on his thighs, and his knee bounced beneath him as he kneaded his hands together. I could tell he was muttering
something under his breath, probably a preperformance pep talk. I approached very carefully. I had a feeling any sudden movement might make him bolt for the hills.

“Jasper.”

He looked up and, with one finger, pushed the brim of his cowboy hat up enough so that I could see his eyes. His beautiful, blue, terrified eyes.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“What're you doing here?” he said. He didn't seem angry. Just baffled.

“I came to say I'm sorry,” I said firmly. “I said some awful things to you last night, and then I bailed on you, and I'm sorry.”

A couple of guys with guitars tromped past us, followed by two security guards in tight black polo shirts. I reached down to adjust Jasper's collar and brush his shoulder as if clearing away dandruff.

“Um, what're you doing?” he asked.

“Pretending I'm your stylist. Just go with it.”

He smirked, which I took as a good sign, and I let out a breath.

“Look, I know I'm not exactly a monogamist,” he said, facing forward as I smoothed the back of his shirt. “But a guy can change, can't he?”

My stomach was in so many knots I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to untangle them. This was the closest he'd come to some kind of declaration. Also, his shoulders were so perfect I almost wanted to bend over and lean my cheek against the back of the closest one.

“Sure . . . I guess,” I said. I crouched to the floor in front of him, and we looked into each other's eyes. My heart caught. “If he really wants to.”

“Yeah, well.” He exhaled, turning his face away. “For me, I think it's about time.”

“Why now?” I asked quietly.

He looked me in the eye. “You really gotta ask that question?”

For a moment I couldn't breathe. His words hung between us, waiting to be either acknowledged or laughed off. Then a guy toting a silver bass drum angled to get by me, and I fell forward attempting to get out of his way. Jasper grabbed me by the shoulders to keep me from face-planting into his crotch, and my hand ended up gripping the metal seat between his legs.

“Maybe we should stand up,” Jasper suggested, amused.

“Yeah. That sounds like a plan.”

He helped me to my feet, and we leaned back against the wall, our arms brushing. But still, the moment had passed. The spell was effectively broken.

“I should probably get back,” I said.

I glanced at his profile. He was staring down at his ­beat-up brown cowboy boots.

“Thank you,” he said finally. “Thank you for coming here and for saying all that.” He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “All's forgiven.”

“Just like that?” I asked.

“Well, I happen to like you,” he told me. “And I also happen to be wicked nervous, so at this very moment I can hardly even remember last night. You?”

I narrowed my eyes, pretending to think. “Can't hardly recall.”

His grin widened at the hint of a Southern drawl I put on. “Perfect.” He stood up straight and clapped his hands, then rubbed them together. “So you got any cures for stage fright on ya? 'Cause I could surely use one about now.”

On impulse I reached out and grabbed his hands. He was so stunned he actually stopped his kinetic movement.

“You are going to do great,” I told him, looking him directly in the eye. “You are
so
much better than those crappy loser bands you were in, and you are about to prove it.”

Jasper searched my face, like he was waiting for the punch line. When it didn't come, he nodded. “Good. Okay. That's working. I like that.”

“Now I have to go find Fiona and our seats before her head explodes.” I didn't want to let go of his hands, but I did, giving them one last squeeze first.

“Fiona's here?” he asked.

“Yep. We both drove all this way to support you. See? You even come with a built-in fan club.”

At this, Jasper smiled for real. “Oh, so now you're a fan, huh, Red Sox? You gonna be throwing your bra up onstage next?”

I rolled my eyes, even as my cheeks darkened. “You're gonna be just fine.” I reached out and, in a gesture of patronizing reassurance, patted his chest. Big mistake. It was seriously firm, and now I was blushing even harder. “Break a leg out there!”

With that I turned away quickly before he could see the effect his physique was having on me. The last thing I wanted to do was walk back into the overcrowded auditorium. I felt more like taking a cold shower.

Down, girl,
I told myself, glancing back over my shoulder. Jasper was still smiling at me. Snagged. When I turned around again, I nearly collided with Shelby.

“What're
you
doing here?” she sneered.

“People keep asking me that,” I said, sidestepping her without answer.

Unfortunately, that maneuver brought me within two
steps of an extremely tall security guard. I froze.

“You don't have a pass, do you?” Shelby asked bitchily. I noticed with chagrin that she did have one, and hers was stamped
TALENT
. Clearly, Jasper had been given one extra badge, and it had gone to Shelby. That badge should have been mine. If only I hadn't jumped to conclusions yesterday, it
would
have been mine. Shelby raised her arm like she was in science class. “Security!”

The guard began to turn, and I did the only thing I could think to do. I ran. I ducked my head and bolted past his blind side so fast I was sure all he saw was a blur of red dress.

“Hey, you!” he shouted after me.

I dodged a pile of electrical equipment, then ducked under the beefy arms of a roadie lifting some sort of scaffolding piece high over his head. At the end of the hall, inexplicably, a bike was parked against the wall, I tossed it to the floor to impede the guard's progress and vaulted over some seated hipster's outstretched legs. When I came to the corner, I hazarded a glance back, and my pursuer was stuck behind the roadie. Still, there was really nowhere for me to go but back to my seat.

Far in the background, Shelby smirked and twiddled her fingers in a wave. She figured she'd gotten rid of me. And she had. For now. But hopefully not for long.

*  *  *

Jasper was a superstar. From the moment he took the stage, I couldn't tear my eyes off him, and neither could anyone else in the crowd. The girls down front were essentially whipped into a frenzy the second he launched into his up-tempo bridge; then they almost fainted as a group when the last romantic strains of his song drifted toward the vaulted ceiling.

The response was the loudest of the night. Fiona and I and half the people in the auditorium were on our feet. Jasper thanked the crowd, then slung his guitar behind his back and leaned in toward the mic.

“Now y'all keep your seats for me for a sec, 'cause there's someone special I gotta see.”

He turned and, instead of striding off into the wings like the other acts had, jogged down the outer stairs I'd noticed earlier and into the auditorium. The girls in the first couple of rows grabbed at him, but he just kept right on walking, down the aisle, toward the back of the theater, toward me. I looked at Fiona, whose expression was unreadable, and by the time I looked back again, Jasper was there. How had he even found out where we were sitting?

“Lia,” he said, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath, “I've got something to tell ya.”

“Really? Right now?” I asked, stunned. “Because I don't
know if you've noticed, but you're kinda in the middle of something.”

He placed his hand over my mouth gently, but firmly. “Shut up, will ya? I'm trying to talk here.”

“Okay,” I said, as thousands of people stared. “What did you want to tell me? Go on. Talk.”

He grinned. “You're the someone special.”

Then he grabbed me around the waist with both strong, warm hands, pulled me against him, and kissed me.

*  *  *

That kiss. That kiss, that kiss, that kiss. It was still humming on my lips an hour later when the show was over and Jasper and I were backstage, his hand on the small of my back while he greeted a never-ending line of new fans, record label executives, and promoters. Everyone seemed to want to shake hands with Jasper Case, but Jasper Case couldn't seem to take his hands off me.

“So, where were we?” he asked, the second he had a break from all the schmoozing. He moved his hands to my hips and slowly backed me up against the poster-covered wall. I slid my arms around his neck and smiled. It turned out that Britta had told him where our seats were, and I was going to have to thank her later.

“Right about here, I believe.”

I saw the grin spread across his face as my eyes fluttered closed. And then we were kissing again, and everything else faded—the champagne popping, the beer bottles clinking, the random strums of guitars and bursts of song. Jasper was all there was.

I couldn't believe this was happening. I couldn't believe I was here, backstage, at a Nashville music house, surrounded by musicians and publicists and groupies and roadies. Right now I should have been trapped in my dorm room, studying for finals, listening to the muffled murmur of Sarah Chin's voice as she recited her Latin verb conjugations next door. I should have been doing what was expected of me, like I'd always done. But instead I was here. I was free. And I was kissing the hottest guy on Earth.