Unraveling You 03 Awakening You (10 page)

 

He strokes my cheekbone with his finger. “Want me to throw a basketball at them to see if I can get them to shut up? I mean, I do still owe you for that.”

 

Smiling, I ponder the idea. “While I know you’re kidding, I’m seriously considering it.”

 

“Well, let me know when you decide,” he jokes, crouching down to unlatch his guitar case. “I’m going to go hurry and dry off the best I can before we go on.”

 

“Why? You rock the wet shirt look pretty well.”

 

He keeps his head tucked down. “Maybe, but I’d feel super awkward.”

 

“Well, you look sexy when you’re awkward, too.” I plant a kiss on the top of his head then squeeze through the curtains and skip off to set up with Sage and Nolan.

 

A few racing heartbeats later, Ayden joins us and hooks up his guitar to the amp while I adjust the microphone stand. The lights beam brightly and blind me to the point where I can hardly see anyone in the room. Still, I know they’re all out there, and those crazy ass butterflies in my stomach start taunting me again.

 

Thankfully, about a minute later, Sage slams the sticks against the drums, and Ayden strums the strings of his guitar. The sounds of the instruments block out my focus on the audience as my lips part.

 

“Rush. Rush. Rush.

 

My heart is rushing like the rain,

 

Erasing every ounce of pain from my body

 

And spilling it below me.

 

My sins bleed into the water,

 

Soaking through the ground.

 

 

 

Rush. Rush. Rush.

 

I close my eyes and feel myself disappear.

 

A skeleton of myself, a ghost of my soul,

 

I’ll never give in to anyone.

 

I’ll never go through this again.

 

 

 

Rush. Rush. Rush.”

 

The lyrics are more morbid than what I normally sing, but I wrote them on a whim while I was bored one day and watched way too many depressing movies. When I sang it to my dad, he thought it rocked awesomeness, so I shared it with the band.

 

It’s the first time I’ve sung it on stage before. The upbeat tempo has the crowd going wild, dancing and head banging, feeding me with the fuel I need to really get into the performance.

 

By the time I sang our full set, I’m dripping with sweat and grinning as I bounce backstage. Sage and Nolan high-five me on their way out, but Ayden seems a bit distracted. He passes by me without so much as a glance in my direction.

 

“What’s up?” I chase after him, back past the curtain and to the flat area near the exit doors.

 

He carefully sets his guitar in the case. “It’s nothing.” His brows dip. “I just . . . I just had the strangest feeling someone was watching me, but I can’t figure out why.”

 

“Did you maybe see someone in the crowd that you know?”

 

“No, it’s not that . . .” He trails off then shakes his head. “Never mind. I’m just being paranoid.” When he faces me, he forces a smile. “Let’s go celebrate your amazing performance.”

 

“You sure?”

 

“Yeah, I’m sure. I want to celebrate my awesome performance, too.” His lips quirk with genuine amusement.

 

I thrum my fingers together evil-villain style. “Hmmm, whatever shall we do?”

 

“Party.” Sage appears out of nowhere like a freaking ninja with a bottle of champagne in his hand.

 

“Dude, did you jack that from the bar?” I reach for the bottle.

 

He dodges out of my reach. “Actually, I stole it from my mom’s fridge. She has as least ten bottles of it, so she won’t notice.” He looks down at the bottle. “Although, I wish it were a bottle of Bacardi.” He shrugs then grips the bottle in front of him and, with his thumb, pops the cork.

 

The bottle hisses and foam shoots all over the floor. I jump out of the path of the spraying foam while Sage takes a swig then offers me the bottle.

 

I take the drink from him. “I’m down, but you’ve totally got to take the fall for the mess on the floor if my dad finds out. I’m already on thin ice with him.” I angle my head back and chug some champagne.

 

“Why? What’d you do?” Nolan asks, intrigued, as he joins our circle. He snatches the bottle from me after I lower it from my mouth and downs at least a quarter of the bottle.

 

I shrug, giving a discreet glance at Ayden. “Just some stuff.”

 

“Stuff as in . . .” Sage’s shifty gaze moves back and forth between Ayden and me questioningly. “Okay, never mind. Forget I asked.” He pats his pockets. “I think I’m going to go outside and smoke.” Which is code for him going outside, smoking, then hooking up with the first decent looking girl he can find.

 

He strides toward the exit door and pushes outside. Nolan throws back another swallow of champagne then shoves the bottle at me and hurries after Sage.

 

I take another sip then turn to Ayden. “You want some?” I ask, even though he more than likely will decline.

 

Neither of us are big drinkers, and Ayden doesn’t like doing it because he feels like he’s acting like his old self, the person he was before Aunt Lila and Uncle Ethan adopted him. So, I’m a bit startled when he grabs the bottle from me and takes a few swallows.

 

“You’re suddenly in a weird mood,” I remark as he hands the bottle back to me.

 

“I’m feeling pretty okay right now, maybe even good.” He laces his fingers through mine then stares at our interlocked hands with the faintest smile on his lips. From the sight of it, my insides get all gooey, like melted chocolate. “I was thinking we could hang out tonight and talk.”

 

Interesting, since he has never been a big talker.

 

“Okay, you want to go home, then, and hang out in one of our rooms? Or did you have something else in mind?”

 

“Remember the spot near the bridge that we used to hang out at back before we could drive?” he asks, and I excitedly bob my head up and down. “I was thinking we could go there.”

 

Goddamn those butterflies. They come to life the moment he says it. What the hell are they expecting to happen exactly?

 

“Yeah, we can do that.” I raise the bottle to my mouth and throw back a couple more sips. “I’ll go tell my dad we’re leaving and meet you at the car?”

 

Nodding, he collects his guitar case, and we part ways. I head down the metal stairs to the main floor, past the busy bar, and down the hallway right as the next band starts playing. Music flows through the building like warm honey and vibrates the floors.

 

“They have a good beat,” I comment aloud. “But we are definitely better.” I abandon the bottle of champagne before I reach the last door. “Hey, old man,” I tease as I enter my dad’s cluttered office. The walls are decorated with old music memorabilia, and the desk is covered with papers and wrappers. “I’m taking off. Just wanted to make sure you didn’t need anything.”

 

My dad glances up from some papers on his desk. He’s sporting his bedhead/fauxhawk, and he has a half empty beer next to him. “I actually needed to talk to you . . . Is the rest of your band still here?”

 

I shake my head and sink down in a chair across from his desk. “Nah, Nolan and Sage are doing God knows what, and Ayden’s waiting for me out in the car.”

 

My dad scrunches his nose. “You guys are going straight home, right?”

 

“We might make a stop or two on the way.”

 

He frowns in disapproval. “I’d rather you go straight home.”

 

“I won’t be out late.” I flash him a devious grin. “And don’t worry, I put that condom Mom gave me in my pocket.”

 

His skin pales. “Lyric, this isn’t funny.”

 

“It kind of is, though.”

 

He rakes his fingers through his hair. “You’re too much like me. It’s driving me crazy.”

 

“You used to think that trait was endearing.” When he continues to veer toward a meltdown, I decide to let him off the hook. “Look, I wasn’t lying the other night when I said I wasn’t having sex yet, so would you please chill out? You’re a cool dad and everything, but this whole awkward, freak-out thing you’ve been doing for the last week is making you lose mad cool points.”

 

He rubs his hand down his face, leaving red marks on his skin. “I just don’t want you to mess up your life by making a mistake.”

 

“I won’t. I promise.” I draw an
X
across my heart. “Now, can you tell me what you wanted to talk to my band about, because it’s been driving me crazy since you said it?”

 

“I said it a whole minute ago.” He pauses, and I can tell he wants to bug me more about being careful but decides to drop it. “I think I might have an opportunity coming up for you guys.”

 

I lean forward in the chair, eager to hear more. “What kind of an opportunity?”

 

His fingers wrap around his beer. “A tour kind of opportunity.”

 

“Are you shitting me?” I bounce up and down with excitement.

 

“No, I’m not shitting you.” He opens his drawer, pulls out a paper, and slides it across the desk to me. “It’s this summer. It’s not a huge tour or anything, and the bands are pretty unknown, but I think, for your first gig, this could be a really good thing.”

 

“A really good thing.” I snatch up the paper, jump from the chair, and run around the desk, throwing my arms around him. “This is the most awesomest thing ever.”

 

He hugs me back. “Don’t get too excited yet. You still have to see if everyone in your band can go, and we have to check with your mother and make sure it’s okay. I know she’s been talking to you about college.”

 

“Yeah, and I told her I didn’t want to go straight out of high school.”

 

“I know, but we still have to discuss this with her. She needs to be on the same page. And there’d be a ton of rules you’d have to follow. I don’t care if you’re eighteen and an adult; I’m not helping you get on the tour unless you agree to my rules.”

 

“Fine by me,” I say without zero hesitation because I want this more than anything.

 

“All right, we’ll discuss them after we talk to your mom and your band. Ayden might be a little tricky, considering everything that’s going on, but maybe if I talk to Ethan, it might help get everyone to agree to let him go.”

 

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” I pull away, beaming from ear to ear. “I’m going to go tell Ayden now and track down Sage and Nolan tomorrow, but I bet they’ll be in.” I head for the door with a huge smile on my face, but then suddenly remember something. “Hey, Dad. There was a lady at the bar earlier. She said her name was Ava, and she knew you from Wyoming. Did she stop in and say hi?”

 

“No . . .” His forehead creases. “I’m sorry, but how did you end up talking to this person?”

 

“She stopped me when I was walking by. I think she recognized me or something.” Now that I say it aloud, though, it seems odd. How did she recognize me when I’ve never met her?

 

“How did she, though?” He scratches his head. “I don’t talk to anyone who still lives there except your grandma and grandpa.”

 

“Maybe they’re the ones who showed her a picture of me or something.”

 

“Did she give a last name?”

 

“No, she didn’t give me a last name. She was around Mom’s age.”

 

“Are you sure it wasn’t your mother?” he jokes, still edgy.

 

“Ha, ha, you’re a freaking riot, old man.” I wrap my fingers around the doorknob. “No, it wasn’t Mom. She had blonde hair and these really blue eyes.”

 

He rubs his scruffy jawline, seeming baffled. “Do me a favor and go straight home with Ayden until I can find out who she is.”

 

“Should I be worried?” I ask, opening the door.

 

He pushes back from the desk and rises to his feet, stretching out his legs. “I’m not sure, but the best thing to do is be safe.”

 

The excitement over the tour gradually fades as my dad follows me out of his office. We check around the floor area and the bar for the woman, but she’s nowhere to been seen. So, he walks me to Ayden’s car and sends us on our way after we promise to drive straight home and nowhere else.

 

“I’m sorry we don’t get to go to the bridge,” I tell Ayden as he steers the car down the busy road toward our neighborhood.

 

Lampposts reflect in the cab and shimmer across his face as we pass by stores, houses, and people strolling up and down the sidewalks, the city alive and awake.

 

“It’s okay.” He shrugs it off as he shifts gears. The rainstorm has cleared, but the roads are wet, and puddles splash against the tires. “I get why your dad’s worried. I just wish I could have seen this woman myself.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because . . . Maybe I would have recognized her. Maybe that’s why I felt uncomfortable on stage. I could sense I was being watched.”

 

“You think she might know the people who . . . ?” I nervously bite on my fingernails.