Chapter 4 #3
“That’s how I feel about classical music. It’s all my mom listens to, so I was raised on Bach and Mozart.” I paused and then added, “My mom moved out of the house last year. At first, I missed her so much that I curled up in bed and cried to the Moonlight Sonata for a solid month.”
“That sucks. I’m sorry about your parents.”
“Yeah, me too.” Feeling the need to take charge of the conversation before Xander bombarded me with another endless string of how comes and whys, I asked, “Are you guys working on any new music?”
The sudden topic change didn’t faze him. “Not yet. Our next tour starts in a month. We’ll probably write some new tracks while we’re on the road, but until then, I intend to revel in all thirty days of my dwindling freedom.”
“Oh yeah? What do you have planned?”
“Nothing major. I’ll probably go back to Portland for a week or two and spend time with my family,” he said. “I also want to swing by the shooting range for some target practice. Who knows? Maybe I’ll binge read Lady Phoenix.”
“Shooting range? Like…with a gun?”
In an attempt to mask a snicker, Xander coughed. “No, like with a bow and arrow.”
“Archery?” I didn’t mean to sound so surprised, but it wasn’t the most common of pastimes.
The only people I knew who could use a bow were fictional characters like Katniss Everdeen, and I had a feeling that didn’t count.
“How does one get involved in such an obscure sport?” I paused, then added, “It is a sport, right?”
“Considering it’s an event at the Olympics?
Yes, definitely,” he said, his voice filled with amusement.
“I have pretty bad asthma, so I struggled with athletics as a kid. I tried all the asthma-friendly activities like baseball, golf, et cetera, but the truth is I was terrible at everything. Then my doctor recommended archery, which I thought sounded badass, so I gave it a try. Surprisingly enough, I’m a decent shot. ”
“Do you hunt animals?” I asked. I couldn’t help but think about Marshmallow, the French lop rabbit I had growing up.
“No, I only do competitive archery. Basically, you shoot arrows at a target from a set distance. You’re judged on accuracy. No killing involved.”
As he said this, a new image popped into my head, and I pressed a hand against my mouth to smoother the sound of my laughter.
“What?”
“I may or may not be picturing you as Legolas right now,” I admitted.
“Not sure I could pull off the whole flowing blond locks thing he’s got going on,” Xander said. “Besides, Legolas killed plenty of people.”
“Yeah, but only the bad guys. Not adorable, fluffy bunnies.”
“Fair enough, but—”
Xander was cut off by a sudden swell of “Happy Birthday to You,” the voices of twenty or so ten-year-olds muffling the background noise of the playground. We both turned toward the party. A picnic blanket had been spread out on the grass, and at its center sat Spider-Man with a large pile of gifts.
As the song came to an end, something—a realization or maybe an idea—lit up in Xander’s eyes. He jerked his head in my direction. “Hey, are you free next Saturday?”
His question was simple, but it made me pause.
“Um,” I said, wetting my lips. “My best friend and I are going thrift shopping for our Halloween costumes.” Which was sort of true.
Sofia and I had discussed swinging by Deals ’N’ Steals, the local resale store, but we never made concrete plans. “Why, what’s up?”
“I’m throwing a surprise party for Alec.”
“What for? His birthday was in May.”
“Yeah, I know. This is to celebrate his new record label. Thought you might be interested.”
Letting out a huge breath, I silently laughed at myself. Jeez, Indie. Assumption, much? At first, when Xander asked about Saturday, my brain jumped to the ridiculous image of us on a date. But this explanation, an invitation to a party because of my friendship with Alec, made so much more sense.
Xander cleared his throat. “I know this is a bit last minute, but I’d love to hang out with you again.”
My entire body stiffened.
It wasn’t that I was opposed to spending more time with Xander. He was easy to talk to. Even better, he didn’t care that I was related to Violet, whereas most people I met were more interested in talking about her than getting to know me.
But those words—I’d love to hang out with you again.
Why did he have to say something like that?
One simple statement, and I was analyzing an afternoon’s worth of interactions.
Was this a you’re-cool-but-we’re-just-friends hangout or an I-like-you-let’s-see-where-this-goes kind of thing?
Because here was the fact of the matter: guys like Xander Jones dated supermodels and movie stars.
They weren’t interested in chubby nobodies like me, so the possibility of something happening between us never crossed my mind.
“I’d like that too, but I shouldn’t cancel,” I replied, avoiding his gaze. “Sofia’s life is pretty much consumed by babysitting her siblings, so she doesn’t often get Saturdays off. Thanks for the invite though.”
“Yeah, of course,” he said, and the kindness in his voice made my chest prickle with shame. Lying to Xander felt awful, but better I feel guilty now than end up with a broken heart down the road. “I totally understand.”
To this, I said nothing. Silence settled between us, so I fished my phone out of my backpack and checked my messages to avoid any awkwardness. When I noticed how many notifications I’d racked up—twelve texts, three missed calls, and a voicemail—I groaned.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s Violet. She’s pissed I bailed,” I said, showing him a small portion of her messages. Pissed was the understatement of the year.
Xander flinched as his gaze slid over the texts. “Yikes. That’s a lot of expletives. If you need to get back, don’t let me keep you.”
“You sure?” I asked, even though I had no intention of tracking down my sister. She was, however, the perfect excuse to leave. “I’d feel bad ditching you.”
He waved me off. “Nah, don’t worry about it. I think I’m going to enjoy the sun for a little while longer before taking one more lap around the exhibit hall. I still need to pick up my commission from Ashley.”
“Oh, I forgot about that,” I said, my heart sinking. “I really wanted to see how it turned out.”
“How about this?” Xander replied. He plucked the cell from my hand and replaced it with his own. “Let’s trade numbers. I’ll text you a picture of the sketch, but you have to promise to let me know if your plans for Saturday change.”
He was probably just being nice, but I allowed myself a small smile. “I think I can manage that.” We both entered our information into each other’s contacts and traded back phones. “Well, I should get going.” I stood and brushed off the back of my jeans.
“Bye, Indie,” Xander said as I slung my bag over my shoulder. “Thanks for today. I had a blast.”
“Ditto,” I called, already picking my way down from Umpire Rock. “See ya around, E.T.”
Once I reached solid ground, I hurried past the birthday party and toward the footpath. As I made my way out of the park, I could feel Xander’s gaze fixed on me, but I forced myself to keep moving and not look back.