Over It (The Kiss Off #2) (23 page)

Did I really just say that?

Ty breathed out heavily. “Cool. I’m at the festival all day. You can record in my room if you want. I’ve got some mics in there; I set it all up for you. The bathroom should be good acoustically. Have fun writing.” He may have said it, but he didn’t mean it. He forced a smile which reached nowhere near his eyes; it might have reached his nose, but just barely. Then, he backed away from the door, turned and strode down the hall.

Down the hall, away from me. He didn’t even look back.

I retreated into the room and slammed the door. Hard. Nikki gasped and Hamish snorted, startled awake. They both squinted at me.

I couldn’t believe that had just happened. Had it? This wasn’t a shitty dream, was it; had Ty and I really just broken up? Again? Oh my God. That was exactly what just happened.

“Is something wrong?” Nikki said.

“What the hell, Poppy?” Hamish groaned. I watched as he and Nikki noticed their snuggliness for the first time. Nikki’s eyebrows shot up and her body stiffened in panic. Hamish bit his lips together, gingerly extracted his arm from around her and shuffled himself backward to the other side of the bed.

Nikki cleared her throat. “Morning.”

“Morning.” Hamish said back. “Sorry, I didn’t-”

“No, it’s okay. I didn’t either.”

“And I wasn’t, you know…”

“Neither was I,” Nikki said.

It couldn’t have been more awkward.

“Oh cut it out, you two,” Mads said as she stepped back into the room and closed the balcony door behind her. “You so were. Everything okay, Pops?”

“No,” I said, looking down at the keyboard in my arms and then back at my friends in shock. “No? No.” I cleared my throat and nodded. “Yeah, the answer’s no.”

“Was that Ty?” Mads said. “What happened?”

“It was,” I said, hugging the keyboard to me, even though it was getting kind of heavy. “Pretty sure we just broke up.”

There was silence. Shocked silence.

“So, that sucks,” Hamish said.

“Poppy, I’m so sorry…”

Mads put her hands on her hips. “What the fuck?”

I shook my head, trying to clear away the fog, to think clearly again. “We’re on a break or something.”

My eyes started to water, that’s what it was, and I looked at the ceiling and tried to blink the moisture away. “It’s just been a really intense weekend, you know?” I said.

I shouldn’t have come. What had I been thinking? This sort of shit always happened when Ty and I were together. How did real celebrity couples deal with it? How did A–List actor couples cope with all the attention, the gossip and rumors, the speculation? How did they cope with the internal combustion when they’d meet each other somewhere and the two stars and everyone that orbited them collided?

Nikki was up and out of the bed and hugging me gently, stroking my hair before I even registered she’d moved.

“I know it has,” she said. Mads rubbed my back, both girls putting aside their differences and working together to make me feel better.

“I shouldn’t have come,” I said. “I could be at home right now still asleep in my own bed, with nothing to do but watch YouTube and listen to music.”

“Yeah, but then you wouldn’t be writing a hit song for the Debutante Dolls, would you?” Mads said.

“Right,” I said, blinking away the foggy blur. I stood up straight and wiped my eyes and nose. “You’re right.”

Nikki and Mads stepped away, noticing that something about me had just changed. “You’re
right
. Get dressed. Hamish, unless you have a super girly singing voice I don’t need you. But Mads, Nikki, I’m gonna need a full sound on this, how do you feel about singing some vocals?”

Nikki looked uncertain. “Are you sure you’re up for that?”

Screw him. “I’ve got work to do,” I said. “Are you in, or not?”

Mads and Nikki exchanged excited glances, but tried to keep their cool.

Mads shrugged. “I’m down.”

“I’m in too,” Nikki said. “You know, I won my middle school’s talent competition for singing when I was eleven.”

“What’d you sing?” Mads asked.

“Mariah Carey.”

Mads smirked and gave Nikki a rock salute. “Rock on.”

Nikki’s smile quavered for a moment, but there was no malice or spiteful sarcasm in Mads’s demeanour. Just playfulness. She smiled back.

“Okay, good,” I said, clapping my hands together to make them focus. “Clothes on. We’re going up to Ty’s room. We’ve got work to do.”

“I take it you found some inspiration this morning?” Mads asked.

Bravery. Being brave. Saying something that’s important to me. “Yeah, I did,” I said. “Now come on. We’ve got a hit song to record, and it’s called
Over It
.”

Though Hamish seemed bummed to be left out of the excitement, the backup plan was nothing to sneeze at: since he wasn’t needed, rather than be bored as we tinkered and rehearsed and sang the song over and over, he caught the shuttle bus to the festival to watch live music from backstage with his All Access Pass. I was totally jealous that of all four of us,
he
was the one who would get to use a pass, but I pushed it aside and focused on the work.

Mads, Nikki and I breakfasted and lunched on lockdown in Ty’s room, one at a time singing verses into the capacitor mic Ty had scored from somewhere (that shit’s expensive to be loaning out so freely).

We got some good stuff recorded and were actually on track to make delivery that afternoon.

The three of us huddled around the microphone which I had taped to a standing lamp, Mads held my lyric book open so we could all see the words, and I nursed the laptop in my lap, perched on the arm of the couch. As we sang, I watched the waves of our voices jump around as the laptop recorded our skillz.

We reached the end of the chorus, I stopped the recording and guzzled my second Red Bull.

Nikki and Mads watched as they pulled off their headphones.

“How was that?” Mads asked.

“Did we do alright?”

“Perfect.” I beamed. “That was a great one. Mads, I had no idea you could sing like that. Really. And Nikki, I really like what you did there with that end bit,” I said as I captured the take and dragged it into the right spot in the track in Studio Time. “How you did that sex voice like Marley does.”

“You liked that?” She grinned. Then she looked worried. “It was pretty good, wasn’t it. Do you think she’ll take it the right way? I wasn’t making fun of her, I just… it’s so weird to think the
actual
Debutante Dolls are going to hear this. Hear us singing.”

“I know, right?” Mads agreed.

I smiled to myself as they giggled with excitement. The air was lighter between them. They may not have been BFFs, but they weren’t glaring daggers at each other’s backs anymore, which was a huge step forward. I don’t know when it happened, maybe when I was in the bathroom at some point, but Mads must have womaned up and taken the opportunity to apologize.

“It sounded great. She should understand what you were doing.” I said. Looking at the software, I heaved a relieved sigh as it finished saving.

“That’s it. Vocals are done.”

“Really?”

“Yep. You guys can go to the festival if you want, see
some
bands before it’s all over,” I said. I rose and grabbed the keyboard. I hunted for its USB cord before plugging it into the computer.

“It’s done?” Mads asked, surprised.

“No, I’ve gotta layer in some drums and bass and things, but I can do all that myself. Go see some shows.”

“Are you sure?” Mads asked. Whether they even realized they were doing it, both girls were inching backward toward the door. “Are you going to be okay? Because I can stay.”

“We can
both
stay,” Nikki corrected.

“Why wouldn’t I be okay? Go. I’m good. Use your passes.”

Nikki seemed uncertain. “Well if you’re sure you don’t need us, I’m going to be at Fat Bottomed Girls.”

“That’s where I was going to go,” Mads said.

Nikki didn’t say anything for a moment, but then offered a nice, juicy olive branch. “We can go together, I guess. If you want.”

“…Okay,” Mads said. “Cool.”

“Wear sunblock,” I said. “Academy are closing the weekend at seven, right? See you guys there?”

They exchanged looks.

“Are you sure you want-”

“Of course,” I said. “I did come all the way here, and they do a great live show, so…”

They both nodded, not entirely convinced, but left the room all the same.

It was quiet without their voices, their conversation, without the concentration of getting the rhythm just right.

I looked around the room, taking a second before starting work on the drum track. My gaze wandered over the mahogany dining table and chairs by the window, polished to a shine. I looked at the widescreen mounted to the wall, and the perfectly fanned out array of music and extreme sport magazines on the coffee table. It seemed the Burlington Grand did their homework; they pulled out all the stops, especially when one was being troubled by a persistent fan.

Then I spotted Ty’s coat draped over the back of the cream velvet couch, the jacket he'd been wearing last night. His iPod was on the side table beside an Xbox controller, there was a pair of sneakers kicked off in the doorway to the bedroom and his acoustic guitar leaned against the wall next to his huge black suitcase that was covered in skate company logo stickers. Not that he even skated. Did he skate now? How would I even know?

I experimented with drum sounds and worked out a good backing beat and spliced it into the track, then I added in some bass guitar, tidied up my guitar work from earlier, stood up and paced a couple of times before playing the whole thing back.

I bopped my head. I’d done well with the beat. I smiled to myself at the attitude and sass in Mads’s solo and flat out danced along to the chorus. I fist pumped and shook my booty and jumped on the couch until I hit the chandelier and decided I should stop.

It sounded good. It wasn’t all that slick or professional, but since when had I ever been that? And it was done a good couple of hours ahead of schedule! I looked around fruitlessly for someone to celebrate with, but I was alone. Everyone was at the festival.

And I would be soon, too. I was going to celebrate by dancing and screaming along to the music, while wearing a top that covered my back, arms and shoulders. I set the track to finalize as an MP3 and strutted into the bathroom to make use of the high pressure steam shower before dolling myself up for the final night of Bay Fest. Though I had no idea what time she was playing, or if she was completely done with the festival entirely, I hoped that maybe I’d get to watch Lexie De Graff perform after all, though from the anonymity and relative safety of the mosh pit.

I threw my clothes onto the basin bench and eased into the already steamy shower and careful of the pulsating pressure of water on my beet red skin, I sang to myself. Sang
Over It
, soon to be (in my fantasies) number one with a bullet by the Debutante Dolls. I washed my hair and wished I could tell someone. I wished I could tell Ty. I wanted to play it for him, I wanted to…

My voice petered out and I didn’t really notice that I’d stopped singing altogether. My stomach churned with anxiety and distress.

Ty.

Mads and Nikki had known; they’d known to keep me busy, keep my mind occupied and focused on working so I wouldn’t think about him. All day they hadn’t really let me pause, let me stop and ponder at all, they hadn’t given me the opportunity to dwell and go to bad places in my head as I remembered what had happened this morning. That Ty and I were on a break.

I wasn't with him anymore, but he surrounded me completely. Maybe Mads's coconut perfume had overpowered it earlier, but his smell rose around me and swallowed me up, it filled my lungs and my pores and my brain. Maybe I was imagining it, maybe my brain wanted it so bad that it made it real, but the longer I stood there under the water, in the steamy bathroom, the surer I became that I could smell him. It hadn't taken long for his vanilla scent to permeate the room. And sure enough, there it was. He didn’t use the fancy hotel brand body wash, he brought his own from home. I'd always made fun of him, that he smelled like vanilla. But he didn't care that guys were supposed to smell musky and masculine. He liked how his body wash made his skin feel smooth, and how it smelled warm and sweet. Just like him.

It had been mentioned in a magazine or two, how sweet he smelled, not to mention all over the forums as fan girls spazzed out that they got close enough to smell him and damn he smelled delicious.

How had I not even processed how hard this was supposed to be? He wanted a break in our relationship and I promptly spent the whole day in his room, using the equipment he had so painstakingly acquired for me.

I didn’t understand. Guys who want to break up don’t do things like that. How could he want a break when he clearly still cared?

And what did a break even mean? Did he want to see other girls? My stomach roiled at the thought, that he could be just like Tommy and be with a new girl by nightfall if he wanted. There were literally thousands out there who would take him, after all. Or did he just not want to see
me
anymore? Did he want to not see me permanently? How long is a break supposed to be, anyway? I didn't want a break. I didn't. God, I was such an idiot! Why had I agreed to that?

As the water pummelled the top of my head and ran down my body, I couldn’t tell if I was crying, but I thought I might have been. I turned the shower off and stood in the steam for a moment, trying to process what I thought, what I felt, what to do next. Fat drops of water slid down my hair and fell from the ends onto my toes. As I pushed open the glass shower door and stepped out, I froze. There was movement in the living room.

“Ty?” I called. He’d come back for something. This was perfect. I grabbed the fluffy white hotel bathrobe from behind the door and threw it around me as I hurried to the door. I was going to tell him I didn’t want a break. I was going to tell him we could work it out. We could talk about everything, talk about what we could do to change and protect our privacy more.

I secured the belt around my waist as I pulled open the door and burst into the living room, dripping water all around me.

“Ty, I-” I stopped short, shocked. That wasn’t Ty. “Astrid?” I said, surprised.

She sat forward on the edge of the couch, Ty’s laptop in front of her on the coffee table. Oh shit, she was going to work it out. She was going to work out who my mysterious boyfriend was.

On the scale of things to worry about, that shouldn’t have been the first one to pop into my mind. The second one was entirely more appropriate as there was definitely something wrong with this picture.

I clutched the robe closed around me at the neck and pulled the belt extra tight for good measure. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Hi Poppy,” she said brightly. “I knew I’d see you again.”

She rose from her seat and faced me, not looking even remotely embarrassed or uncomfortable that she had been busted breaking into someone else’s room. “You’re her, aren’t you?” I asked, shaking my head in disbelief. “Holy shit, you’re Ty’s stalker.”

“I am
not
a stalker.” she said firmly. Her eyes flashed with barely contained rage. “I’m his friend. I’m there for him, unlike you. You’re supposed to be his girlfriend but where are you? And he thinks you love him but you don’t, you’re using him. You think you can just go and screw the next rock star to look at you and get away with it? You’re nothing but a groupie!”

“A groupie? You’re crazy! And obsessed!”

“How could you treat him like this?” she demanded. “How could you! How could you cheat on him with that poseur! I always thought he was dating down, but as soon as I met you I knew. You’re not good enough for Ty, Poppy,” she said. “He deserves better.”

I couldn’t believe this was happening. “What, like you?” I asked.

She crossed her arms and inclined her head a little. I didn’t know her at all.

“You’re kidding me with this, right?” I said. Who the hell was she? Sweet little Astrid with the boy-crazy friends and a good head on her shoulders had left the building and gone far away. Way away, like backpacking in Europe away.

“The first time he looked at me I knew he felt the connection too,” Astrid said, her eyes glazed over as she lost herself in memories.

“Where? From the mosh pit?” I asked. “Did he point at you during
Bittersweet
when he sings ‘you have my heart’?” I asked. “Because he points at a different girl at every show. It’s part of the act.”

“I know that, you think I don’t know that? I’m not an idiot!” Astrid spat. “It was at my work. He came into my work and he smiled at me.”

“Your work?”

“I was his server.” A shy smile played at her lips at the memory.

This was real, this was actually happening. Astrid was the stalker, and she was a legit crazy one, too. She’d hid it pretty well, but it seemed she was a complete space cadet. A pit of sadness settled in my stomach.

“Astrid,” I said carefully. “Ty pretty much smiles at everyone. He’s a nice guy who smiles at people. If it had been Tommy who smiled at you then maybe it would have meant something, but…”

Her dreamy expression darkened as I stomped all over her happy memory.

“He’s so happy when you’re not around, you know that? Since he’s been here, since
you’ve
been around… you ruin everything for him. You’re pathetic.”

“Hold up a second, obsess–head. You wouldn’t have even heard of him if it wasn’t for me.”

She ignored me. I wasn’t even sure she could hear me. “He talks to me, you know,” Astrid said. “I go to all his shows. We’re friends; he shares stuff with me. Tells me his problems. Like
you
. He wishes he never met you.”