Happily Ever After? (Sleeping Handsome Sequel) (12 page)

A light shines out of their tunnel of
craziness. “Can’t tonight. My mom’s got a late night at work.
Inventory.”

“
Weak try,” Chloe says. “I
can watch Jamie. I could watch her during your practice sessions
too.”

My eyes narrow on her as I resist
throwing the rest of my slushy all over her perfectly primped form.
She’s trying to help. Wants to help after I helped her with her
breakup with Neil, but this is going beyond help.

“
Come on,” Marcus says in
a pleading tone. “You need to get out. This will be
fun.”

I look between them as they both shake
their heads yes. I’d like to smack those heads together. Tightening
my arms around my knees, I watch the girls kick a raft across the
length of the pool before returning to the waiting stares of my
friends. Peer pressure is a bitch. “If I go and I don’t like the
band, you’ll both let this go?”

“
Scouts honor,” Chloe says
and salutes me with a hand across her chest.

Irritation wrinkles Marcus’s brow.
“Scouts don’t salute like that.”

She rolls her eyes.
“Whatever.”

“
Marcus?” I
press.

“
Yeah sure.” He shrugs.
“If you don’t like the band, then I’ll drop it. But I can’t see you
happy unless you’re playing.”

Relieved they’ve both given me their
word because regardless of my true feelings, I won’t be liking the
band. “Okay, I’ll go.”

Marcus grins. “They don’t go on until
ten, but I thought we could hit the skate park since we’re going
downtown.”

“
Oh, reliving our youth
are we?” Chloe says. “Maybe you should ask the
babysitter?”

I shake my head. “Marcus, I haven’t
been on a board in almost two years, and Chloe’s right. It would be
beyond rude to leave her here with Jamie while we went
out.”

He puts his hands up but Chloe waves a
wrist. “I’m just being a bitch. He’s right. You need to get out of
this house. Let me play mommy for a bit. Hell knows it ain’t going
happen until after thirty-five anyway. If then.”

Marcus’s stoked expression has me
internally groaning. I’m not even sure where my board is. “Fine
we’ll go to the skate park, but you’re buying dinner.” Maybe I’ll
break an arm and this ridiculousness will be null.

He grins. “Hot dog stand here we
come.”

“
I’ll put the lasagna in
the oven and set the timer,” I say to Chloe.

She smiles wolfishly. “That’s why I’m
here. Your cooking is the one good thing about your new mommy
status.”

Ignoring her, I stand and tell Marcus,
“Just let me find my board and I’ll walk over to your
house.”

“
You’re not changing?”
Chloe asks.

I glance down at my yellow tank top
and loose khaki shorts. “Yeah, I should probably put on capris.
I’ll wipe out at least once.”

“
Riley,” Chloe whines.
“You’re going to a concert. Guys will be there. Hot older
guys.”

I give her a look. “I’m taking a break
from guys. And hot older guys sound out of my league.”

Her look is icier than mine. “Aaron is
so not worth this.”

Marcus clears his throat.

“
Go home. I’ll be there in
five,” I say to him and move toward the house while Chloe mutters
in the background. It might be more like fifteen minutes by the
time I get to the bottom of my closet. If my board is there.
Sliding the glass door open, I’m actually excited to go boarding
and even to a concert. But I am so not trying out for the
band.

Chapter 2

I haven’t eaten like that in months. I
tend to pick at food lately. After two chilly dogs and half a
cheese fry, my stomach feels like it’s going to burst while my legs
and arms feel like rubber from two hours of boarding. Yet I didn’t
do too bad after two years off the thing. Not great but not too
shabby either. From about fourth grade to tenth, besides drumming,
skateboarding was my life. Though boys had been on my radar since
about eighth grade, one boy in particular caught my eye the end of
sophomore year. Aaron. It took a year for me to come out of my
tomboy stage—Chloe thinks I’m still partially in it—and three weeks
into senior year for him to finally ask me out, but he did. And now
we’re no more.

And now I’m back on a
skateboard.

Maybe Chloe’s partially
right. I’m just regressing back to a tomboy. In fact, I don’t think
I’ve touched my makeup bag since Aaron and I broke up. I haven’t
given two shits about what I looked like for most of the summer.
Now standing against the balcony banister waiting for the band to
start and surrounded by girls dressed like hoochies, I’m wishing I
listened to Chloe just a bit. I feel
extremely
unattractive in an old
pair of capris and a tank top.

The old movie theater we’re in is
packed wall to wall. Both the lower level and the balcony. A mummer
of conversation surrounds us and floats up to us while music plays
from speakers above. The packed crowd has me realizing the band is
more popular than Marcus led me to believe. He’d been trying to
sell me on the fact that they’re just a college band. This crowd
implies more than just a college band.

“
So tell me something
Riley,” Marcus says, pulling his gaze from the cleavage of the girl
next to him. “Did your mom even try to talk you out of letting the
scholarship go?”

My eyes narrow before I look away at
the crowd underneath us. “Are you implying my mother’s selfish? You
know she’s going through a rough time right now.”

“
I love Mags,” he says
with a grin. My mother’s name is Maggie. He’s called her Mags since
sixth grade. At least behind her back. He bumps me with his
shoulder. “You know that. I’m just curious.”

I grip the scarred wood under my palms
harder. “She asked several times if I was sure I wanted to stay
home.” I’m not about to share the relieved look she wore while
asking.

“
And your dad?”

I shrug. “He’s a bit busy with his new
girlfriend.”

“
Why did your parents have
to go and get divorced? You know Chloe and me were going to
tolerate each other and take a road trip to see you perform in the
drumline?”

My stomach starts to hurt. I wish
everyone would quit bringing up the damn drumline. “We’ll come
watch you.”

“
The Hawks don’t have a
drumline. Shit, Riley we’re barely a Division II
university.”

“
Well that
sucks.”

“
And you had a free ride
to a Division I. In a warm state.”

Cheese coagulates in my stomach. “Just
tuition and books. The dorm was only partial.”

“
Still,” he
says.

“
It’s a done deal okay?” I
step back, well as much as I can with the people behind us, while
fighting building tears. “I’ll be right back. Going to hit the
bathroom.”

“
You’re going have a bitch
of a time getting back through.”

I just shake my head and squeeze
between people. I keep it together all the way down the stairs.
Ignoring the bathrooms, I head out the side door into the smoker’s
area. Fenced off between buildings and once an alley the space is
dark. String lights line the ground along the bottom of each wall.
Obviously, you don’t need light to smoke just to walk. I pass
smokers huddled together conversing among their smelly haze. In the
back, where it’s the darkest, I lean my head against the rough
brick and let the tears flow while my stomach rolls.

I hate this stupid shit. I hate
crying. But the more I try to control it, the more tears
fall.

This is why I don’t hang with my
friends very often anymore. Their concern, though touching, breaks
my heart. I spent four years working toward my goal of a
scholarship. To have achieved that goal, give it up, and be
continually reminded of it just plain sucks. Yet I’m also aware
that if Chloe and Marcus had gone off to college, I’d be a total
wreck. That my friends are still here is something, actually at the
moment if feels like everything.

I’m breathing deep and letting out air
slow when what looks like a folded bandana comes into my blurred
vision.

“
Looks like you need
this,” someone says in a deep voice.

Embarrassment runs through me as I
glance at the guy holding the bandana. His mop of dark hair blends
into the night. He’s wearing baggy shorts and a white t-shirt. With
the lights on the ground, his face is mostly a shadow while his
ragged flip-flops are the most defined thing on him.

He jiggles the bandana in my now
upright face. “It’s clean.”

Mortified at my obvious public
breakdown, I reach for the triangle of fabric.
“Um…thanks.”

“
No problem.” He falls
next to me on the brick. One knee rises as he plants a foot on the
wall behind him. While I wipe my eyes, the zip of a lighter sounds
in the darkness. “Boyfriend?”

A miserable laugh escapes before I can
stop it. “Sort of…” I’m not about to explain my life to a stranger.
I can’t even explain it to my friends.

“
Guys can be dicks.” I
hear the grin in his words.

“
Yeah…” I finish wiping my
eyes while wondering why
this
guy is talking to me. Why he won’t let me cry in
peace.

He lets out a stream of smoke. “Trust
me, it will get better. And one day you won’t even remember what
you saw in such an ass.”

Though I wish he’d go somewhere else,
the conviction in his tone has me saying, “Sounds like you have
experience.”

His teeth flash white in the darkness.
His hand sprays across his chest. “Thought my heart was shattered.
Thought I was dying. Later I realized she wasn’t worth such a
response.”

I dig my vans into the cement.
“Actually, I don’t want to be disrespectful. He wasn’t a dick.
He…just didn’t like me enough for a long distance relationship. I
can’t hate him for that.”

My shadowy bandana man is
silent.

“
Sorry,” I mumble. “Too
much stranger information.”

He shakes his head. “No. I was just
stunned. That’s some mature thinking for someone who’s…What’s the
cut off for getting in here? Sixteen?”

“
Eighteen,” I mutter with
irritation lacing my tone. “I’m eighteen. Nineteen in two
months.”

A chuckle escapes him.

My face warms. And the red’s probably
noticeable since at five feet four inches, I’m far closer to the
string lights than him. Embarrassed about crying and now my looks,
I hold out the bandana. “Thanks. I should get going. I, uh, didn’t
snot on it or anything.”

He stubs his cigarette out on the
brick wall then reaches for the bandana. His warm hand brushes
mine. “Are you going to be alright?”

Though confused why he’d care, I
nod.

“
Here, you might not need
it,” he says, digging in his back pocket then holding out a card
until I take it. “But just in case.”

Thoroughly confused now, I take the
card—I don’t want to be rude—stuff it in my front pocket, mumble a
goodbye, and wander through the semidarkness. This time I stop in
the bathroom. No one pays attention to me while I rinse my face and
dry it with a rough paper towel. A quick look in the mirror shows
slightly red, puffy eyes. In the dark of the theater, Marcus
shouldn’t be able to notice. Or at least I’m hoping so. If Marcus
even suspects I’ve been crying, he won’t let it go until I spill
everything.

I do have to squeeze my way back
between the crowd, repeat ‘excuse me’ multiple times, and even get
a few dirty looks, but I finally make it back to Marcus.

“
Cool,” he says. “They’re
just about to get started. Long line?”

“
Very,” I say, looking
ahead and pretending to have a huge interest in the
stage.

“
You’re going to love this
band.”

Not enough to try
out
. I keep my eyes on the stage, but give
him a closed lipped smile.

The stage lights up and
the crowd grows loud. Amid shouts and claps and people going nuts
like idiots, four guys step on the stage. They don’t say anything
just take their places. Of course, my eyes follow the drummer. He
pounds four times on the snare drum and the band immediately breaks
into music. I recognize My Chemical Romance’s
Teenager
.

The crowd goes more wild. I watch the
drummer. He’s good. The song sounds good too. Though it’s similar
to the original, they sped it up—an eighth I’d guess—which gives it
a louder feel.

Next to me, Marcus does a fist pump
dance and sings with the song. “Good huh?” he shouts at
me.

Though the verdict is still out, I
nod. I tap my fingers on the banister and watch with a critical
eye—and ear—more than for fun.

The next song,
Gamma Ray
by Beck, is
totally different. I recall Marcus saying they played a variety.
Guess this major switch proves it. After watching the drummer
again, I check out the rest of the band. They’re obviously all
talented and the singer can sing, but the non-music part of me
notices the muscled arms playing the instruments and the shine of
the singer’s bare chest. Though I can’t make out faces from this
far, I have a feeling some of the girls aren’t here for just the
music. The eye candy just might have something to do with the large
female crowd directly in front of the stage.