Accidental Rock Star (8 page)

Tyler leaned against
the counter, looking so hot.

She choked a little.
Coughed. And lowered the cold plastic bottle until it rested by her
side. She used the other hand to screw on the lid, performing the
routine task with a concentrated absorption that it didn’t
need.

“What’s up?” Tyler’s
green eyes asked something different. They more than asked. They
said,
come closer, roll around on the floor, and play with
me.

Aria backed up a step.
She held out the bottle of water to him. A barrier? A peace
offering? A distraction? All three maybe.

Tyler took the drink
and swallowed some. “Talk to me.” This time he sounded like he
meant it.

“That was… that was…”
She trailed off and put her cool hands to her flushed cheeks.

Tyler’s eyes glinted as
he stepped forward. “Yeah.”

Aria stepped back.
Okay. So there was no doubt now that he liked her or about how he
liked her. “I don’t do random hookups.”

He drew his head back.
“That’s not what this is.”

She ran her hand over
her cheeks again and backed up to the counter, bracing her back
against the solid, cold granite. “I’m not saying this right. That
was too much. Way too fast.” And she’d totally lost her mind and
been with him every second of it. Every second until it had gotten
even hotter.

He moved closer and
when she didn’t move away, he trailed the backs of his fingers over
her cheek. The gentle motion was sweet, calming, and stirring all
in one crazy bundle. She tilted her head back, half to get away
from his fingers, and he lowered them, brushing them in the
lightest whisper down her throat.

Her head popped up. Her
eyes widened and then narrowed. He knew way too much. Just where to
touch her and just how lightly, to make her want to grab him and
hold on. To tempt more, harder, stronger, longer.

“I can go slow.”
Tyler’s beautiful voice with its rich tones tangled her insides
almost as much as his touch. “If you want.”

Damn. She was in big
trouble. She swallowed. “This isn’t a game to make you chase
me.”

His smile softened, and
his face grew pensive, pouty, and possessive all at once. “I
know.”

She sucked in a breath
at the handsome, hot broodiness of him.

Tyler’s smile flashed.
The one that meant trouble. “Another lesson tomorrow.”

She shoved a bowl of
the sliced apples at him.

Tyler stuck his hand
in, not minding the gooey caramel, and ate two. He took the bowl
from her and turned back to the living room, leaving her to follow.
“Another lesson now.”

Tempting. So tempting.
But she needed to get him straight in her head before she saw him
again. Get him out before her parents got home.

Aria did follow him,
but she shook her head as she walked. “Next week.”

Tyler placed the now
empty bowl on the end table. “Tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

Tyler headed to the
front door and spun back to her. He grabbed her hips.

Uh. Hands. Caramel.

His mouth landed on
hers.

Caramel. Tyler.
Yum.

He ended the kiss and
rested his forehead against hers. “Damn.”

Ethan tapped out a
string of notes.

Dylan played them back
and added in more complexity.

Tyler mimicked him. The
game went on until Dylan took them both out. Tyler laughed and held
his sticks palms up in surrender. “You win. Master of the
drums.”

Dylan nodded,
acknowledging his superiority. “Wonder if that’ll be a plus at my
lizard factory interview? Can beat the hell out of a set of
drums.”

“Sure,” Ethan said.

Dylan talked like
working at the factory was inevitable. It was damn hard to get a
good drummer. Dylan could have a job in L.A., easy. Tyler wanted to
say that but didn’t know how to explain his knowledge.

Ethan swiped his dark
brown curly hair off his forehead. “You may be master of the drums.
But I can take you on the guitar. Electric and acoustic.”

Dylan snorted. “On
electric maybe. You suck on acoustic. You’re not Aria.”

Tyler hated that they
knew more about Aria than he did. Though not the shit that
mattered. Not how her eyes lit when he got a chord right. Not how
they sparkled when the music took an unexpected turn. Not how soft
her skin felt when he stroked it. Not the gasps she made.

Director Garcia shook
his head at them. “You three. You’ve got enough energy. Get down to
the field and take care of Li-War.”

“Oh,” Ethan jerked
back, “Director Garcia, no.”

“Yes.” Director Garcia
angled his thumb at the door. “And make it quick. Then get back up
here, suit up, and get the drums down to the stadium.”

Ethan grumbled. Dylan
half-sneered. Tyler felt clueless. “What’s ‘taking care of’
Li-War?” He followed them out the back door into a blast of chilly
air. After the blistering heat he’d suffered when he first arrived
in Texas, the weather had finally landed on L.A. temperatures and
was forecast to stay around for about a week. One week of good
weather. How’d they live like this?

Ethan pointed to the
football field. “That’s our mascot. Lizard Warrior. Li-War. It’s
the band’s job to inflate him. It’s the only time we can touch
him.”

“School can’t afford
decent band uniforms, but they have a giant, blow-up mascot?”

“Lizard factory
sponsors the booster club. Hunter’s dad’s a factory owner and
Hunter plays football,” Ethan said.

Fucking Hunter. He was
always looking at Aria and making excuses to drop by band hall.
Tyler trudged down to the field without saying anything. He checked
out the mascot tunnel.

Li-War was a massive
heap of green canvas with a long pink strip at one end. They
double-checked the ties holding him down, plugged him in, and that
was it. Tyler didn’t get their reluctance. Watching a twenty-foot
canvas lizard inflate was kick-ass. The tail shot back and the
tongue shot forward. He was going to get something like this for
his next tour. He punched the side nearest him and the canvas grew
taut under his knuckles. Kick-ass.

The guys stared at him
a second, and then Dylan grinned and kicked the lizard. Ethan shook
his head at both of them and turned back to the school. They hiked
back to the band hall and started the much longer process of
dragging the instruments outside.

Tyler huffed out a
breath. “It’s like we’re roadies.”

“We
are
roadies.” Ethan punched a fist in the air. “Roadies for the Mighty
Lizard Marching Band.”

Tyler and Dylan winced
at the same time. It sounded so uncool. Deeply uncool. So uncool
Tyler had to change it. “We’re starting a band.”

Ethan grinned big.
Bigger than the crazy suggestion warranted. He nodded and bounced
up and down. “Hell, yeah.” His enthusiasm popped the top button
from his band jacket. The green half-draped down, and his latest
movie T-shirt showed through.

The T-shirt displayed a
silk-screened image of Caz silhouetted on a dark backdrop. It shook
Tyler for a second, seeing his friend. That was real life. Not
this. He’d become so involved here for a moment that his life on
the West Coast seemed like a dream. He didn’t know how long he’d be
here. He probably shouldn’t have said anything about a band.

Dylan nodded slowly,
wearing a thoughtful expression. “I’m drums. Ethan on lead
guitar.”

“Aria can play bass and
you can back her up.” Ethan spoke fast, with enthusiasm.

Tyler gave Ethan a
thumbs up. He could play, but not well enough for a band. He was
itching to say he’d sing. He knew he couldn’t though. The words
edged forward. Luckily, his favorite distraction came over.

“How’s it going?” Aria
asked.

Aria. So cute even in
the godawful band uniform. A memory flashed of the same uniform at
her feet on the day they met. He wanted to see that again. What did
she have on under the pants and jacket tonight?

“Aria can sing,” Dylan
said.

“Yeah,” Ethan said. His
gaze shot sideways.

The news jolted him.
How did they know that? Why didn’t he? He and Aria spent a ton of
time together. Way more than she did with these two. This was
critical. He needed to hear her sing.

Aria moved closer.

Tyler reached out to
brush a wisp of her dark hair off her cheek. She had it tied up in
braids under her band hat. He wanted to untangle them and sink his
hands in her hair. “Can you sing?”

Aria winked. “Yeah, I
can sing. What are we singing?”

The confirmation hit
him. He wanted to hear her. He loved the idea of them singing
together. Tyler brushed his fingers over her soft cheek. He wanted
to touch more of her skin. Now. She could sing while he touched
more of her skin.

Aria pulled back. “No
PDA on the field.”

He felt the loss on his
fingertips.
What the fuck is PDA?

Her gaze lingered on
him—like it should. “You guys ready for tonight?”

They gave her the
requisite thumbs up.

She reached out and
tugged on Ethan’s jacket, straightening the gaping top bit.

Fuck no. Hands off.

Now.

Tyler took her hand off
Ethan under the guise of getting her attention. “We’re starting a
band. You’ll play bass and sing.”

Her face blanked, and
her fingers trembled under his. Not the expression he thought he’d
see.

“I don’t know.” She
looked away, not meeting his gaze. “That’s a big time
commitment.”

He wanted her there.
“We’ll keep it small. Just for us.” He tightened his grip. “To make
music.”

“Just for us,” she
murmured. And then raised her voice, “I’ll think about it.”

A band with friends.
He’d gone from singing in the shower to a major label when he was
fourteen. This was such a step down, he couldn’t understand the
extreme enthusiasm running through him. And he was dying to hear
Aria sing. Now. He had to talk her into it.

The stadium lights
flooded on, stealing her attention away. Aria waved her conductor’s
baton. “I’ve got to check on everybody else.”

***

Aria wished she could
sit with Tyler in the percussion section, share his blanket, hold
his hand, but she was responsible for the rally pieces. That meant
standing down front and conducting. The band sounded good tonight.
Great, even. They’d win the crowd tonight.

She wiped her palms on
the sides of her trousers. Her parents would hear how good the band
was, how unique. Not that they were wrong about it being
impractical. Music wasn’t something she would continue after high
school, not the kind of hours she put into it. Music was a hobby,
not real life. She’d seen Aunt Bev chase the dream and come up
short her whole life. If beautiful, talented Aunt Bev couldn’t make
it, the rest of them were dreaming.

The first two quarters
went by in a blur. The game was back and forth with the Lizards
barely holding onto a two-point lead as halftime neared. Aria put
the conductor’s baton into her jacket and tamed the flyaway strands
of her hair with bobby pins, sparing a glance at the darkening
clouds overhead. Good thing she’d advised the girls to wear braids.
The sky promised a thunderstorm before the game ended.

Aria gestured to
Baylee. “March on.”

Baylee played the three
notes and gave the signal that meant ‘rise and head out.’ The band
followed with precision, going down the stadium steps, row by
row.

They had this.

The wind gusted,
blowing her jacket around her body, chilling the air. Aria shivered
and grabbed for her hat with one hand and motioned everyone to keep
going. Leaving the hats off might be a good idea tonight. Otherwise
they might fly off and tumble around the field at their feet. That
would destroy the gravitas of their planned program. And they had
epic pieces down for tonight. Nothing would distract the band.

They got down to the
goalpost. Li-War whipped at his restraints, bouncing around with
more frenzy than usual.

They were going to have
to go loud tonight. If the wind picked up any more, it would drown
out the band. No. That was negative. The wind would carry the
sound. It’d be amazing.

“Aria.” Hunter motioned
for her to come over. “Over here.”

She jogged over to
Li-War’s snout. Director Garcia stood with the football coach just
behind him. She’d deal with Hunter’s crap and then get Director
Garcia’s approval about the hats. “What’s up?”

“The game might be
called on account of weather.” Hunter raised his voice, talking
over the wind.

Aria glanced at the
even darker sky. More black clouds had gathered in the short time
it had taken for them to get down to the field. No lightning
though. Games only got called when there was lightning. They
weren’t there yet.

Hunter jerked his thumb
toward the visitors’ stands. “The other team didn’t even bring
their band.”

That wasn’t unusual.
Most teams around here didn’t have the budget to bus their bands to
away games. Theirs certainly didn’t.

Aria leaned to look
around Hunter. Director Garcia patted his empty front pocket and
then crossed his arms over his chest. The telling search for a
cigarette did not bode well for her. She swung back to Hunter and
narrowed her eyes. “And?”

Hunter pointed to the
game clock. It was set for fifteen minutes, ready to count down
their show. “Every minute counts. Coach and I talked to the
visitors’ coach, and we’re all in agreement about giving up our
halftime break.”

She didn’t get it.
“What’s that mean?”

“Look. We hate for the
fans to miss out on the halftime show and all.” Sarcasm filled his
brown eyes. “But this game’s too close. We’re turning the team
around now to get back out here.” The game clock was set to third
quarter. Hunter chucked her on the arm. “Looks like y’all get a
night off.” His eyes glinted in victory.