Chapter 5
Allegra
I smooth my palms over my jeans and turn sideways to check out my ass in the mirror Mav hung on the inside of his closet door.
I grin. These work. The jeans hug my curves nicely and paired with a short-sleeved white button-down and simple white sneakers, I look put-together enough to meet Dre.
I really want this opportunity. While Vivi mentioned a plethora of volunteer options, they seemed more removed than working one-on-one with kids. While logic dictates I choose a job that pays, I really want to pursue work that fills my emotional cup. Something that guides my next steps.
Plus, I don’t want to head home to my parents. Without a job, I’m not sure if my brother will let me crash all summer. Levi’s relationship with our parents is tenuous and he doesn’t want to give them any more reasons to pretend he doesn’t exist.
It shouldn’t bother me that Mav jumped in to help before my brother, but it does. Levi’s lack of support hurts.
“Ready?” Knuckles rap against the doorframe.
I turn and meet Derek’s gaze. “Ready.”
“You look fine.” He scowls. “You don’t need to impress Dre. He’ll be into you because you’re smart, not because you show your tits.”
At his crass words, my eyes dart back to my reflection in the mirror. Just to piss him off, I unbutton another button on my shirt and shoot Derek a look. He scoffs.
I grin. “I’m ready.”
He jerks his head to the side. “Let’s go.”
I follow him down the stairs. Right before we clear his front door, he tugs on a Boston Hawks baseball cap, pulling it low over his eyebrows.
I snort. “That’s your disguise?”
He shrugs and holds the door open for me.
“I didn’t take you for a hockey fan,” I remark as I slip past him.
The material of his T-shirt, plain white, grazes my arm and that alone makes me shiver.
I shake my head to clear it but his proximity, the scent of his cologne—masculine with a hint of soap underneath—and the heat of his body, messes with my senses.
Does he ever think about that night? Does he remember the stars?
“I’m not.” His tone is sharp and with it, my thoughts disperse.
He falls into step beside me as we skip down the steps and onto the sidewalk, turning toward the coffee shop.
“The girl who does some of our cover art, designs our merch, dates one of the players. She’s constantly pawning Hawks shit off on me and swiping Clovers merch in the process. ”
I chuckle. “I like her already.”
He glances down, a pinch between his brows. “Yeah, you would like Claire.”
“So, how do you know Dre?” I ask, curious about this guy from Derek’s past. Not that I understood much, but the vibe between Derek and Mav was weird at breakfast.
He averts his gaze and I know there’s history Derek doesn’t want to talk about.
Prior to our kiss, I scoured gossip magazines for information about Derek.
You’d think I could just ask Levi but even though my brother and I were closer in my youth, he would’ve found my questioning strange or worse, intrusive.
Still, there wasn’t a ton of information.
Just that Derek was born in Roxbury, a Boston neighborhood, on March 18.
His dad was never in the picture, his mom gave him up at some point, and he aged out of the foster care system at eighteen.
Subsequently, he poured all his energy and finances into The Burnt Clovers.
That’s. It.
So, I’m curious. I stare up at him, noting the slight scruff that covers his neck and the lower portion of his face. His hands fist, the tats on his knuckles straining. His jaw tightens. Other than that, he gives nothing away. His expression is smooth, his eyes aloof.
“Don’t get any ideas, Allegra. You’re not his type,” Derek mutters.
Humiliation, followed by a swell of anger, burns through me, but I conceal it. “Too bad; he could be mine.”
Derek’s neck snaps toward me at that remark.
I sigh heavily. “But I really just want a job, Reign.”
He jerks when I use his popular moniker instead of Derek.
“Not looking for a date,” I tack on. “At least, not yet.”
Derek sighs and runs his palm over his face.
We walk in silence for a few moments, a thread of tension pulling taut between us.
My nerves are on high alert, my body tuned in to his every move.
I’m hyperaware of Derek’s presence—his scent, the annoyed clicks he makes in the back of his throat, the heaviness of his gaze when he glances my way.
Even if my body is a traitor, I keep my eyes focused straight ahead. Put one foot in front of the other. Don’t ease the moment by offering up mindless chatter, the way I usually do. This time, I’m not letting Derek off the hook. If I don’t stand my ground, The Burnt Clovers will eat me alive.
Derek sighs heavily and I fight the urge to smile.
“We go way back. Knew him since before music.” He turns at the corner, increasing his pace. I scurry to catch up to him.
“Oh. What—”
“You think you’ll go back to school in the fall?” he cuts me off, piercing me with a look.
I pause, my mouth dropping open. Narrowing my eyes, I search for words. Words I don’t have because I have no idea what my plan is. I have no idea what the hell I’m doing past today. This moment. Securing this job and figuring out what comes next.
Derek slows his pace, but his eyes don’t leave mine. His expression turns curious, the glint of frustration gone as he waits for my response.
What does he want me to say? What does he expect from me?
Am I supposed to confide things in him like that night, so long ago?
I sigh. “I don’t know.”
Derek blinks. Once, slowly. And in that moment, he hardens. His curiosity seeps into nonchalance. The pebble of concern expands into a boulder of indifference.
“Right,” he agrees, resuming his earlier pace. “Come on. You don’t want to be late.”
I trail behind him, trying to make sense of what transpired between us. Is there anything soft and sweet still there? Can we at least be friends?
Can Derek and I be anything at all?
Another block passes and then, Derek’s pulling a door open for me and I’m sliding into a chic coffee bar, the atmosphere eclectic, the air perfumed with the aroma of coffee.
A guy sitting at a back table, clad in cut-off sweat shorts, Jordan dunks, and a starter cap, stands halfway and salutes us.
I grin and lift a hand in greeting.
I got this. I may not have a college degree or years of experience, but I’m enthusiastic, sincere, and wonderful with kids.
As I step forward to introduce myself to Dre, Derek’s hand lands in the center of my back. His fingers splay wide, his thumb and pinky nearly grazing my ribs. “Good luck.” His voice is low, his tone sharp.
But my body relaxes under his touch. I want to press back against it and melt into him.
Gah! Traitorous body.
Derek’s fingertips dig into my skin for half a second before his hand is gone. Instantly, I miss his touch. Immediately, I want him to touch me again.
“What’s good, man?” Derek greets Dre.
Dre shuffles forward and slaps Derek on the back. When he pulls away, he lifts his chin in my direction. His eyes bounce from me to Derek and back again.
“She your girl?” Dre asks. He’s looking at me, but his question is directed toward Derek.
My palms feel sweaty, and I wipe them on the thighs of my jeans.
Derek hesitates and I work a swallow.
Dre narrows his eyes, his gaze flipping to Derek. Something transpires between them. A silent conversation had through their eyes and small facial movements I can’t make sense of.
“This is Allegra,” Derek says finally.
I roll my lips together to keep from laughing. Derek will never claim me, but he doesn’t want any other guy to call dibs either. I see you, Reign.
“Levi’s baby sister,” he tacks on.
This time, I snicker.
Dre snorts, a deep sound in the back of his throat. “Fuck,” he mutters low. Then, he turns to me and grins, his expression changing in an instant. I recognize the natural charm he exudes, the warmth he turns my way. He holds out a hand. “Good to meet you, Allegra.”
I place my palm in his, shaking. “Nice to meet you too.”
Dre chuckles. Derek scowls. I bite my bottom lip.
Dre’s smile widens and he cocks his head toward the coffee bar. “Want a coffee?”
“Sure,” I say, keeping my gaze trained on the barista.
“See you later, man,” Dre says to Derek, effectively dismissing him. “I’ll walk Allegra home.”
A muscle in Derek’s jaw pops and his hands tighten. I can tell he hates this idea, but I don’t speak up and after a moment, Derek mutters under his breath.
“Say what?” Dre asks, his eyes gleaming playfully.
“Said I’ll take a coffee too, fucker,” Derek spits back.
Dre cracks up and leads us toward the bar where we order a round of coffees.
“I can’t believe he offered me a job on the spot!” I squeal as Derek and I walk back to the brownstone.
The corner of his mouth lifts, like he’s debating smiling, but falls flat before it can curve all the way. “I can. You’re passionate about this.”
I frown. “How do you know? You couldn’t hear our conversation.” At first, it irked me that Derek stayed throughout my interview with Dre but now, I’m glad to walk home beside him, reveling in my good fortune.
“I could tell,” he offers, gesturing his hands wildly. “You were animated, even across the coffee shop.”
I chuckle and swat at him with the back of my hand. My knuckles collide with the hard muscle of his abdomen and Derek sucks in a breath. The sound warms my cheeks and I recall that night. The stars. My first kiss.
Gah!
Ducking my head, I murmur, “Well, enthusiasm counts for something, right?”
Derek smirks, a chuckle falling from his mouth. “Yeah, Stellina. Enthusiasm counts.”
I look up sharply at his casual use of my nickname, the one only he calls me. But this time, Derek keeps his eyes trained on the brownstone, his expression aloof, save for a hint of playfulness in his dark eyes.
“I can do this, Derek,” I say, wanting him to know that I’m treating this opportunity seriously. That this type of work matters to me.
His eyes shift to mine, all amusement gone. His expression is severe, his lips drawn in a line, his eyes piercing mine. Searching.
My steps falter as I wait for his words. That tension pulls between us again, tight. Desperate.
Derek blinks. “I know, Allegra. You can do anything.”
Then, he walks faster, and I try to keep pace with him.
We don’t speak for the rest of the walk home.