Sun Poisoned (The Sunshine Series) (5 page)

It’s comforting that Myles looks just as uneasy.
“Are you sure you want to know about this? It’s kind of…scary.”

I sigh,
“Should I drink coffee now or after you tell me?”

His face twitches in a wry smile.
“It’s probably better if you drink it now.”

“
Okay then.” I stand, throwing the blanket onto the couch and walking the short distance to the kitchen. Myles follows me and sits at the counter. I turn on the coffee maker and pretend to wash some already clean mugs in the sink while I wait for it to brew.

Dating a vampire, I knew it was only a matter of time before more weird supernatural shit happened; I just wasn’t prepared to be involved this time.

“Alright,” I say, setting down two black coffees on the counter and taking the stool next him. “I have about an hour before I have to get dressed. Go.”

Myles takes a small sip of his coffee.
“Remember what I told you after the winter formal?”

“
About Michael?” And how he used to and still was doing horrible things? Nah. “Yeah.”

“
Well, Ava was one of those people.” Myles stares blankly at the table top. “He tortured her…among other things.” He stares at the steam coming out of his cup. “I’ll give you the shortened, not detailed version.”

“
Kay.”

“
Michael destroyed her life. Trust me when I say that.” He takes another sip of coffee. “Then he infected her.”

“
Infected her? With what?”

Myles leans in closer now, his hand grazing the tiny scar on my left temple.
“His blood.”

“
Oh.” I push my coffee aside; there’s no use trying to drink it now.

“
And remember when I told you that I helped someone that he was hurting?”

I swallow.
“It was Ava.”

He nods.
“About five years ago, I helped her and Evan escape.”

“
Wait…Evan too?”

Myles nods again.
“It’s a really long story. It would take a while to explain it all.” He grabs my hand now, gently squeezing it.

“
Okay. I don’t really need to know all the horrible details,” I say. “Am I going to have weird dreams like this from now on?”

“
No,” he says, taking his hand away so he can curl his fingers around the mug in front of him, his knuckles turning white for a second. “They’ll eventually become less frequent and then they’ll stop.”

I don’t even try to conceal my sigh.
“Good.” Then I grab my cup again, relieved enough to drink it, but not completely put at ease. “We can now change the subject.”

Myles laughs.
“You have practice with Honus today, right?”

A smile spreads across my face.
“Yeah,” I say.  “Then I have to go to the club and work the merch booth until about eleven.”

“
I told you, you don’t have to do that,” he says.

“
I want to,” I say. “I want the whole band experience. This is part of it.”

He nods, but he still doesn’t look like he gets it.

“What are you doing today?” I ask.

He shrugs.
“I have to meet Evan for a while, but after that I’m sure I’ll think of something. I’ve been thinking about taking Malakhi to a dog park. Maybe Boo and Trei will want to come?”

“
Yeah. You should ask them.”

“
Have you told them about practicing with Manny yet?”

“
I texted them,” I say. “I’m not sure who’s more excited.”

He smiles.
“I think it’s you.”

Yeah. I guess. I mean, if I wasn’t so wigged out, that is.

Myles leaves around eleven thirty and I take the longest shower known to man.

It’s usually pretty cold in the practice spaces because the air conditioning is cranked up in the anticipation that the bands will get all sweaty from rehearsing, so I dress in layers: a black tank top under an oversized, white God Save The Queen T-shirt that was once Jade’s until I stole it. He cut off the sleeves so the armpits stretch all the way to my love handles. I throw on my black ripped jeans and tuck the legs into my boots.

I slip my phone into my pocket, and decide on carrying my trench and sunglasses in case we finish early and they want to go somewhere outside.

I climb down the flight of stairs that take me to the practice rooms a few minutes before noon and Manny is already waiting outside of the room, leaning against the wall and wearing white shorts and red Converse.

His raspy voice greets me.
“Hey, you made it.”

There are sounds of intermittent and random instruments trying to break through the
closed door in a muffled wave

“
Of course I made it.” I try for confidence, hopefully it works.

“
Well, come on.” He gestures for me to follow him, one hand on the doorknob. “I want you to meet the guys.”

The sound of
drums and what I can now see is a huge xylophone get louder and then abruptly stop as Manny and I enter the room. “Guys,” he says casually. “This is Sophie.”

I take a
look around as I set my junk down on a table near the door that seems safe. Their practice space is bigger than ours, but it looks basically the same: red and white stripes cover the walls, wooden floors—except there are a crap-load more instruments and decorations everywhere. In the corner is a keyboard similar to the one in my apartment strung with multicolored Christmas lights. Across from that, a thin guy with short brown hair, wearing cut off jean shorts and a wife beater sits behind a drum set.

“
That’s Skinny,” Manny waves and smiles, so I do the same. Skinny waves back.

Behind him is a heavier man with poofy strawberry blond curly hair and an equally puffed out beard.
“Bear,” Manny introduces, waving a hand in his direction.
              Bear steps between a stand that holds a trombone, trumpet, tambourine, and what can only be described as a huge brass bell to shake my hand.

In the far corner of the room is a guy standing behind the xylophone with bronze skin and dark hair covered with a baseball cap, smiling though a five o’clock shadow and looking pumped.

“That’s Pete Peebs,” Manny indicates. “But we just call him Peebs.”

Just when I think there are no more band members to introduce, a guy in the opposite corner as Peebs with a bald head and a long, shaggy beard tucked behind his guitar strap waves a hand in my direction.
“I’m Ewok!” he announces.

I have to laugh.
“Hi.”

Manny gestures to the keyboard, and I walk over to it and sit down, trying to not let
my nerves get the best of me.

“
So I thought we could just start playing,” Manny tells me, taking his place behind the microphone in the midst of all the instruments. “You can just join in whenever you’re comfortable.”

I have to fight the urge to gulp.
“But I have no clue what the songs are like.” Sure, I’ve heard a few of them at shows, but I don’t know them well enough to just play them by ear.

They all start laughing. Really loudly.

“Dude, relax,” Bear says, positioning a red sweatband onto his curly mop head.

“
Yeah,” says Peebs, smiling. “Manny
never
knows what he’s doing. Just improvise, and you’ll be fine.”

So I nod and wave them on to start playing.

Their chaotic music wastes no time slamming and crashing around me. They start off fast, slowing only a fraction when the rhythm kicks in. It’s punk gypsy music, and then jazz and blues when Manny starts singing the first few lines:

Baby, when I see you

I want to eat a piece of you

‘Cause it’s no fun

Being on the run

And falling apart

The music begins to build and my hands start moving to the song on the smooth, cold keys. I play the low notes along with the drums while softer, lighter ones trail up and down, making intricate progressions that go alongside the xylophone and guitar. I find my place in this, stringing out complicated Jazzy trills and deep bluesy pounds.

We go through this for the entire song. We each tell our own stories with the instruments as Manny sings his about a zombie boy searching for a girl, eventually eating her heart and then brain.

When the song is over, I get nods and smiles of approval all around, so we continue through the next few songs.

Then we’ve suddenly played them all: tales of zombies trying to find love without eating it, mermaids being ashamed of their fins, and aliens losing the keys to their spaceships.

It’s eight o’clock at night before we come up for air.

“
Holy shit,” Manny says. “You guys hungry?”

So after a stop at Denny’s and an hour of pancakes, waffles, and chatter, it’s decided that I will be playing with them on their night, two weeks from now. I head home trying to convince myself that yes, this is my life now, and yes, things like this happen. And yes, everything is freaking awesome right now.

We make plans to practice again later in the week and we part ways, them going back to the apartments, me going back to the club.

I work the merch of a techno/grunge/mathcore band while they play until about midnight, when one of the members relieves me to work his own booth.

It’s twelve thirty when I’m back at my apartment and I’m too wired from my awesome music-filled day to go to sleep.
              I twist the keys in my door and before I have it all the way open, I hear Myles saying, “Sorry.”
              It comes from the kitchen and when I face it, he’s standing there.

“
I know I should have called before coming over, but under the circumstances, I thought you’d forgive me.”

“
Circumstances?” I kick off my boots and sit on the sofa, scooting over so Myles can join me.

“
Are we going to pretend that you didn’t wake up screaming this morning?” His voice is quiet and light, but it has an edge to it.

I’m busy playing with a torn seam in the knee of my jeans, but I smile, trying to make a joke when I know he doesn’t find it funny.
“Oh,
those
circumstances.”

We’re both quiet.

“How was practice today?” he asks.

I smile for real now, remembering just how awesome it was.
“Amazing,” I say. “They really want me to play with them.”

Myles’ hand finds mine.
“That’s great.” We lean into each other. “It would be impossible for them to not love you.”

I snort.
“Yeah, okay.”

Myles moves even closer. Our knees touch. I let them.

“I missed you today,” he says.

“
What did you end up doing?” I lean my head on his shoulder. I missed him too.

“
I took Malakhi to the dog park.” I can see through the corner of my eye that he’s smiling. “He loved it.”

I haven’t seen much of Myles’ dog lately. I haven’t even ventured into his apartment once yet. It’s really stupid, but I’m just more comfortable with him in mine; a part of the old Sophie clinging on for control.

“I bet.” I yawn.

Myles kisses my temple and I feel a gush of warmth pump from that spot and spread across my face. I kiss his cheek back, and the same sensation seems to flood his face.

Before I can think about it, our mouths are touching.

That saying,
“Time stops”? They’ve got it all wrong. It’s more like time
stretches
. It’s a beating thing that moves with us. Pulses. Lives.

His hand scoops my jaw, my hands are
somewhere at the back of his head.

The contest always begins somewhere about now. My lungs and heart and brain all start competing for the most attention. Part of me wants this to go on forever, the other one
—the one that usually wins and gets freaked out—pulls away.

Myles’ hand doesn’t leave my face.
“You want to stop,” he says quietly. He already knows.

“
I’m sorry.” I don’t open my eyes, but I untangle myself from him.

He kisses my forehead and hugs me.
“I wish you would stop doing that,” he whispers in my ear.

I clear my throat.
“What?”

Myles pulls away, still holding onto my hand, and I open my eyes to look at them both entwined around each other.

“Apologizing,” he says it like it’s obvious, and it probably should be at this point.

Not that Myles and I do this every
day, but every time we have, I’m always the one who stops it. No matter if I’m uneasy or not, my body gets stiff, my heart pounds in my throat, and I end it.