Rock My Heart (Luminescent Juliet #4) (5 page)

Chapter 7

~April~

Jeff has done his monologue.
Misha has announced she will be helping her current boy toy become a better
lover. Chad is going to help his mother with the dishes. Jason is going to help
his neighbor with yard work. Now it’s
my turn.

Jeff looks at me expectantly.

I clear my throat. “I’m going to volunteer at the
Child and Family Services.” I already volunteer for their suicide hotline on
Sundays, but I have
less credits
at school this
semester. I can volunteer more than one day at the center.

Misha and Chad sneer at me while Jeff smiles—perhaps
a bit too wide. “That sounds like an excellent plan, April.”

I force a curt nod. With his constant praise, Jeff
sometimes reminds me of my grade school teachers. Problem? I’m not in grade
school. Gabe’s only reaction is the slight rise of his eyebrows. Jason stares
at his hands clasped in his lap.

Jeff shifts toward Gabe. “And who have you decided
to help?”

Gabe stretches his legs then crosses his ankles, his
gaze settling on me. “I’m going to help April complete her cousin’s bucket list.”

A loud gasp rings out in the room.

It takes me several seconds to realize the gasp came
from me.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea, Gabe.” Real bone
a fide enthusiasm fills Jeff’s voice.

Misha’s
lip curls so far the hoop in the center of her upper lip almost touches a
nostril. Chad appears stupefied. Jason stares at his clasped hands. I gradually
shut my mouth, as confusion rolls around my brain. Why would Gabe want to help
me
? That he’d announce such a thing is
rather presumptuous. Oddly, I’ve never thought about completing the bucket
list, and suddenly the idea is very intriguing. But with Gabe? That thought is
intimidating, as in shaking hands with the enemy intimidating.

Confused and irritated with Gabe’s arrogance, I work
hard to keep my face neutral for the rest of the session. I barely acknowledge
Jeff telling us that the assignment next week is to report any progress on our
act of kindness. Finally, he does his final monologue and dismisses us.

Still in a fog, I wander out of the building. On the
sidewalk, I absently ask Jason if he’d like a ride home. He declines like usual
as Gabe passes us. I follow him to a beat up, old pickup truck.

Numerous thoughts, words, and rebuffs swirl in my
head, but as he reaches for the door handle, “What are you up to?” comes out of
my mouth.

He lowers his hand and turns, cocking his head,
giving me a picture of his harshly lined profile. “Up to?”

“Why would you want to help me? You can’t stand me.”

Those full lips turn down as he turns around. “I
never said that.”

“And now you want to help me?” I say incredulously,
ignoring his response. “Is this your new ploy to get me to quit?” There’s a
desperate whine to my voice that has me internally cringing.

He shakes his head and draws in a visible breath.
“I’m truly trying to help… and deal with the issue of you being in group head
on. I like to deal with issues head on, and maybe gain some courage for
myself,” he admits in a sullen tone.
 

Though I realize his idea for courage came from me
the other night at the party, I’m still confused. “Maybe I don’t need your
help.”

“So you don’t want to fulfill your cousin’s list?”
he softly asks.

“She was—fifteen,” I say, feeling out of my element
more than ever from the gentle timbre of his voice.

 
“Fifteen year-olds-can’t
have dreams?”

“Of course they can.”

 
“But they’re
too immature for you?”

“Seriously, I’m going to meet Michael Thomas?” My
tone drips with cynicism due to the fact the man is a famous actor.

“Maybe. Nothing is impossible. The band is going to
California over the next few months. Plus most of the list is easy.”

“Several of them are ridiculous!”

He looks over my shoulder. “You might want to tone
it down. We have an audience.”

Glancing behind, I notice not just Misha but Jeff on
the sidewalk in front of the counseling office, watching us. At this point, I
could ignore
Misha
, however Jeff, the sunny counselor
and reporter to Dr. Medina, I cannot.

I turn back to Gabe, drawing in a deep gulp of air.

He spins his keys on his index finger. “You have
somewhere to be? Work? School?”

“No,” I slowly say. “Why?”

“I’m heading to Allie’s shop.”

It takes me a few seconds to put two and two
together. Allie owns a tattoo parlor. A wild laugh escapes me, a laugh that
Jeff will hopefully read wrong. “I’m
not
getting a tattoo.”

He stops spinning his keys. “You could just check
her place out.”

I can’t help an eye roll.

“Just look for something small and hidden?”

“I’m not getting a tattoo,” I repeat, just thinking
about a needle piercing my skin gives me the willies.

His lips twitch. “Scared?”

“Yup.”

Geez, my honesty around him is astounding. I’m an
open book without one obscure metaphor.

“Well, don’t be. Allie won’t stab you for looking.”

My eyelids drop as I glower at him. “Are you trying
to goad me in to going?”

“Maybe a bit,” he admits with a grin.

The grin is what does me in. “All right,” I say,
letting go for once. It’s a foreign sensation, but I like the freeing feeling
of it. “This doesn’t mean I’m agreeing”—I take a step back toward my car—“to
anything.”

He opens the truck with a nod. “Point taken. See you
in twenty.”

On the sidewalk, Jeff pretends to be in deep
conversation with Misha as I walk to my car.

I call bull crap.

I’m aware he paid total attention to Gabe and me. I
keep a slight smile on my lips as I move between cars. Slipping into my front
seat, I realize Gabe’s idea might actually help me con Jeff in to thinking I am
making progress. The notion has me smiling for real as I slip into the car.

Though I’ve never been to Allie’s shop, I know it’s
on the far side of our small downtown. While I drive, I’m preoccupied with the
idea of Jeff buying into my progress by completing the bucket list. The entire
scenario is almost perfect.

There’s just one catch.

Can I handle the emotion of it? Or more accurately
can I distance myself from the emotion of it? That is the million-dollar
question on my mind as I park behind Gabe’s empty truck in front of Allie’s
shop.

Chapter 8

~Gabe~

Though April looks out
of place, she appears calm and
cool
in her preppy,
white sweater and pressed pants as she enters the shop. I’m always expecting
her to pull out a tennis racket from somewhere with the clothes she wears. It’s
kind of shocking that she even dated Romeo. Though somewhat tame compared to
the rest of us, he is the extreme wild side for her. I’d expect her to date
some rich, prick named Edmond or some shit. The two of them sucking on silver
spoons and flipping back their hair.

Allie, who is handing me the key to the upstairs
apartment, pauses to glance at the newcomer. “Hey, April,” she says in a
surprised tone.

Yeah, I’m betting she never imagined she’d see
Romeo’s preppy ex in the shop.

April smiles and returns the greeting. Forgetting
the key and me, Allie asks if she can help April with anything.

I pluck the key from Allie’s open palm. “She’s here
with me.” Both women’s eyebrows shoot up. “But she might be interested in some
of your tiniest masterpieces.”

“Is he messing with me?” Allie’s look to April is
questioning since April is scowling at me.

April tones down her scowl. “I’m just looking, maybe
interested. And I’m not anything with Gabe.”

That has me laughing. April scrunches her nose and
Allie appears confused. But within seconds, Allie does show her the smaller
designs on the wall above a glass case, then several photographed custom
designs in binders.

I stand to the side, watching mostly April. She
seems intent on paying attention, which has me hoping that she’ll agree to my
help. Selfishly, my offer is not so much about helping her but myself. The idea
of it empowers me, makes feel in control, makes the distress of opening up
around her less invasive. As soon as the idea hit me the day after the party, I
couldn’t let it go. Witnessing the shaking of her hands and the soft timbre of
her voice while reading the list, I felt like such a prick for wanting her
gone. But I
am
a prick and I still
wanted her gone. But me helping her, her needing me, helps me somehow feel
equal to her.

And if that’s going to help me deal, then I’m going
to push.

Carefully.

Allie closes the binder and asks April if she has
anything custom in mind.

She shakes her head, pointing to the jewelry in the
case below the binders. “Are these for belly buttons?”

Fuck. I should be excited that April’s asking such a
question—and I am—since it points to the fact that she might agree to my
proposition, but what has most of my attention is the image of prim and proper
April with a belly button piercing. That would be beyond hot.

Allie points to the far end of the case before
moving around it to remove jewelry. She shows April several pieces while I lean
on the other end of the counter and watch them. Auburn haired Allie is sexy
with her eyebrow and lip piercings paired with a sleeve tattoo that covers most
of her arm. Very dramatic compared to April with her long, light brown hair,
aqua colored eyes, naturally flushed pinked cheeks, and matching pink lips.
April is pretty in a wholesome, angelic way. Someone like me, should find Allie
more attractive. Even though it pisses me off to no end, it’s April who
continually catches my attention. I try to tell myself it’s because Allie is
taken—and quite caught by Justin—but I’m lying to myself. It seems April grows
more gorgeous each time I see her.

“You like that one?” Allie asks as April holds up a
silver dangling music note.

The image of it hanging over her belly button has my
throat dry.
 

April frowns at the jewelry. “Yeah…I’m not sure.”

Oh, I’m sure, it would be totally fucking hot.

“Well, Todd, our piercer, should be done any
minute,” Allie says, cocking her head and watching the dangling note too. “If
you do decide you want the piercing, he has the next hour or so open.”

April gnaws on her lip.

“You could do it another day too,” Allie says,
obviously aware April is going through some sort of internal dilemma, which I’m
thinking is more about the list than the piercing. “Why don’t you take a look
at the apartment upstairs with Gabe and give yourself some time to think about
it?”

“Yeah, okay,” she says with a forced smile, her eyes
glued to the silver note as Allie puts it back in the case.

Allie glances to me. “The stairs to the apartment
are around the corner of the building. Shay will be fully moved out in a few
weeks.”

April continues to be transfixed by the jewelry, so
I brush her shoulder with my arm as I stride past her. “Come on. Let’s see if
this apartment is classy enough for me.”

She absently follows me outside, around the
building, and up the stairs. She follows me inside too but waits by the door as
I take a walk around the one room apartment. It’s small with a kitchen on one
end, a couch in the middle to divide the room and space for a bed on the other
end. Yet remodeled a few years ago, everything is new—not that I care—from the
tile in the kitchen to the carpet on the other half of the room to the small
appliances in the kitchen. Plus Shay—Allie’s employee—is leaving the couch
along with a small dining table and chairs, since Allie’s friends gave her the
stuff. So I won’t need to buy any furniture. I just plan to take my bed from my
dad’s house whether he likes it or not.

More importantly, I need to get out of my dad’s
shithole. Prior to the tour, though I technically lived there, I rarely stayed
there. Instead, I had spent most of the time at my current
girlfriend’s
.
Like the prick that I am, I made sure to date women who could accommodate me
for overnight stays. In the mechanic program at our local community college, I
couldn’t afford my own place. Plus, I didn’t want to leave Sharon alone with my
dad too much. And although I did graduate, the garage I work for couldn’t hold
the full time position I had lined up while I was on tour, but they’re offering
me two to three days a week. Now with a mechanic certificate, I can live on
those three days of work with somewhere cheap to live, unless I want to dip
into the money from the tour and indie album sales that I put away, and I
don’t.

I glimpse into the small, but clean, bathroom off
the kitchen. “Compared to my
pop’s
, this place is a
castle.”

As I expected, that declaration jerks April from the
cloud of deliberation she seemed to be stuck
inside
.
She glances around the room with a frown. “You still live with your father?”

I shrug. “He may be a dick, but he has never asked for
rent to live in his shithole.”

Her frown grows. “No, he just probably used you for
a punching bag.”

I shrug again. “A slap upside the head keeps me in
line sometimes.”

Her eyes grow wide and her mouth twists in outrage.

“Relax. I’m messing with you. After this long, I
know when to stay away from him.”

She stares at me, worry lining her face. Her concern
hits a nerve. I hate people feeling sorry for me. I come from a shithole and a
shithead. Feeling sorry for me doesn’t change shit. It just belittles me and
pricks at my pride.

And yeah, I’ve learned to hold on to my pride like a
motherfucker.

I stalk across the room until I’m feet from her.
“I’ll admit I’m screwed up, emotionally scarred, whatever …but I’m a man now
and my old
man
doesn’t mean dick.”

Most likely sensing my hit nerve, or maybe
understanding my position from all the shit she has learned about me, she nods.

I let out a breath. “So what about you?”

She blinks in confusion at me.

I force a light grin. “Are you going to let this
screwed up asshole help you?”

She draws in a deep breath. “You’ll report
everything to Jeff?”

It takes me a second to put two and two together.
She wants to do it for show, not to help her. What does it matter? She’ll be
indebted to me either way. “Sure, if that’s what you want.”

She wraps her arms around her waist and sort of
rocks on her feet. “I mean we don’t have to do all of them, just enough for him
to think I’m trying. I mean the Thomas thing, going to
L.A.
that’s a bit farfetched
. And the kissing ones…” She lets out a nervous
laugh. “You freaked out when I merely touched your lips…”

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. I hadn’t let my head go there,
even while contemplating the offer, but now that she has said it, my head is
full of visions. Pushing her against the back of the door. Covering her mouth.
Tasting her.
Again and again
as things go further.
Much further. Dirtying up her wholesomeness. And she’d like it. They all like
it. At least for a little while.

Staying calm on the outside, I let out a low laugh.
“I’m not glass. A few pecks won’t shatter me.”

She winces. “Still, we can do only the ones that
you’re comfortable with.”

“Whatever works,” I say nonchalantly, moving toward
the door and out of this space
that
 
is
suddenly filled with images of
touching her. “So you taking the plunge downstairs?” I ask and gesture for her
to exit.

She winces again as she steps outside. “Suppose,
it’s something to report, right? And I probably won’t have the courage to come
back.”

I follow her down the stairs, trying to ignore the curve
of her ass and failing miserably. If she knew my deviant thoughts, I’m sure
even the bonus of me reporting to Jeff would cancel our agreement.

In the shop, it takes seconds for a smiling Allie to
whisk a nervous April and a bellybutton barbell with a dangling music note to a
back room. Once Allie comes back to the counter, we discuss the apartment. She
gives me paperwork to fill out, but in my mind, I’m visualizing Todd lifting
April’s shirt, checking out her smooth skin, and
touching
her. The rage that always simmers under my skin feels like
it’s about to boil over.

I struggle internally to talk myself down. Todd did
the barbells in my ears. He’s a good guy. This reaction is about a chick I
don’t even like. The rage continues to simmer at the thought of him touching
her until I grab the paper work, tell Allie I have to get to work, and get the
hell out of there.

Before I lose it and let my fists loose.