– Sammy –
Megan Montgomery
“Samantha, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Arthur Montgomery is just as douchey as Sam and I stereotyped him to be. He wears a three-piece suit to brunch at my house on a Saturday morning, and he brought a bottle of scotch as a host gift. Like, really? He’s not even coming from church or anything. He holds his hand toward me, a full thirty minutes after he arrived, as though he’s only just noticed my presence - which he has, because he was too busy brown-nosing to notice me.
His daughter hung around a few feet behind him the whole time they’ve been here. Long light brown-blonde hair, slim dancer’s body, skittish eyes; I silently kiss my freedom goodbye, because I know, if anybody’s going to be a snitch, it’s going to be the daddy’s girl Megan Montgomery.
This is my senior year, the year I should be having a little more fun, not babysitting a skittish snob and not spending time with Sam. Dammit, I probably should have listened to that know-it-all in the ninth grade. I threw three years away because I was scared.
I tuck my hair behind my ears and take Arthur’s hand in mine. “Mr. Montgomery. It’s nice to meet you, sir.”
He turns to locate his shy daughter, then grabbing her arm, he brings her front and center. “Samantha, this is Megan Elizabeth Montgomery. Megan, this is Samantha. She’ll be happy to show you around your new school on Monday.”
Will I?
Megan with the blonde hair and shy smile shakes my hand. “Hi Samantha. You can call me Meg, if you wanna.”
“You can call her Megan,” Arthur interrupts with a glare. “That’s the name your mother and I gave you, god rest her soul.” Arthur crosses himself, and Megan bites her lip, but she nods softly and squeezes my hand kindly.
“Hi Megan,” I step back and wipe my palms on my own fancy skirt. “It’s nice to meet you.”
She does the tiniest little curtsy and peeks up beneath her lashes. “And you too.”
“Are you looking forward to your first day at school on Monday?” Small talk. I hate it. I was raised to spout it off under pressure, but still, I friggin loathe it.
She smiles shyly. “Of course. Daddy and I are excited about our new adventure. I hope to be accepted into the gifted program soon. I have a meeting with the principal on Monday, and hopefully after some written exams, I’ll be placed in the appropriate classes.”
Jesus. This is almost painful.
“After the written exams,” Arthur scoffs. “They have her transcripts. She should be accepted on those alone.”
“It’s okay, Daddy. I don’t mind the tests. I like them.”
My own father walks back across the room toward us, with small glasses of sherry in his hands and a dirty grin on his face that means he’s about to get his own way on something. He passes a glass to Arthur, then he looks at me. “You girls should skedaddle. Take Megan to your room or go for a walk into town. Maybe even Dixie’s.”
Arthur smiles. “That’s a good idea. Stay out of trouble, girls.”
My father continues to grin. “They’re both good girls. Sammy won’t lead Megan astray.”
Megan smiles bigger than she has up until this point, and she steps in under Arthur’s arm when he extends it for a hug. “We’ll be good, Daddy. Promise.”
He drops a kiss on her head. “Good girl. We’ll be a few hours, so make yourselves scarce.”
“Yes Daddy.”
I take a long deep breath before my head pops off my shoulders, then I turn back and smile at Megan. “Would you like to hang out here; we could go into the media room? Or we could walk into town.”
“Let’s go for a walk,” she suggests sweetly. “We’ve spent a lot of time driving lately. I need some fresh air and time to stretch my legs.”
I nod and close my eyes before anyone realizes I’m rolling them, then I turn and wave her ahead. Her long blonde hair hangs loose down her back, kinky with waves and though it’s not styled, it’s neat. Despite the fact I know she’s seventeen like me, her preppy innocence makes her look fourteen. We walk through the front lobby of my family’s giant home and out onto the front stairs. Our estate is huge, our home three-story. Eleven bedrooms in total, mine is at the very top, like the proverbial Juliet Capulet, I’m hidden far and away from anyone who might decide to come looking.
Sorry, Sam.
We walk in relative silence, and though I’d hoped that she might be just the tiniest bit talkative in a good way, my phone vibrates in my back pocket, stealing my attention away.
Megan walks ahead of me by a few feet, eagerly exploring town as we wander on the sidewalk, and though I’m almost one-hundred-percent certain I shouldn’t let her see, I take my cell out and smile at his silly name on my screen.
He saved it under Future Husband, Cupcake, Handsome.
Yeah. Zero poker face for Sam Turner.
Whatcha doin?
I look up at Megan to make sure she’s not watching, but she continues to walk ahead, literally smelling the roses as she wanders and hums under her breath.
Me: Walking to town. Gonna get some ice-cream or something.
Him: You’re free?? Come hang out with me. I miss you. Or me and the guys will come to Dixies.
I sigh.
Me: Not free. Taking Megan for a tour. We’re skedaddling.
Him: Can I call you?
I wish.
Me: No. I’m not risking her asking about you. She’s worse than we thought. She probably still sleeps in a crib.
Barely thirty seconds later, he replies, that sucks. I haven’t seen you in forever.
I laugh. I saw you this morning, Samuel.
Him: I have a bag of candy here with your name on it. You just have to ditch your friend.
I actually laugh at the pain I feel right in the center of my chest. You sure know how to kick a girl while she’s down, huh?
“Who ya talking to?”
My eyes flare wide and my hands snap down to my sides as I look into Megan’s gleeful eyes. “Umm… No one.”
She scoffs. “You were talking to a boy.”
“I was not.”
“You were blushing. Who were you talking to, Sammy?”
“Megan--”
“Oh.” She carelessly flicks her hand in the air between us. “Call me Meg. My dad’s weird about that, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
“Umm…”
“So…” She bounces her brows. “Is he cute?”
“Who? Your dad?”
She snickers. “No. You freak. I meant the guy you’re pretending not to text.”
“I’m not texting anyone.”
She winks obnoxiously. “Okay. So, this guy you’re not texting… Is he hot?”
“Megan--”
“Meg.” She repeats. “Please, for the love of god, call me Meg. My dad named me after my mom, cause I killed her from the womb, and now I’m the new her. I don’t hate my name, but I hate the pressure to be someone I’m not.”
“Your mom died when you were a baby?”
Why did I even ask that? Apart from the fact it’s insanely rude and inappropriate, I thought I wasn’t making friends with her. Why ask something so personal if she’s not even my friend? “Jesus, Meg. I’m sorry--”
She brushes me off again, then she turns and continues walking. “Yeah, she had an aneurysm when she was giving birth. Guess my fat head wouldn’t move the way it was supposed to.”
I grab her forearm with my right hand, even as my left hand vibrates with new texts. “You don’t blame yourself, right? You were just a baby.”
She scoffs. “No, I don’t blame myself. It was just one of those things. Shitty luck. Bad timing. Her timing. The universe spoke. Whatever. No, it wasn’t my fault, but, my dad sure wishes she was still around.”
“It must be hard to lose your wife so unexpectedly.”
She shrugs casually as we continue to walk. We approach the edge of the sidewalk, step into the quiet street and cross over. “He definitely struggles. Even now. It’s been almost eighteen years, and he still talks to her picture at bedtime every night.”
“Jesus.” My stomach hurts at the very thought. “That’s awful.”
We step onto the pavement on the other side of the street, then she turns and smirks at me. She doesn’t look fourteen anymore – her eyes are different. Her smirk is pure mischief. “You’re definitely a lawyer’s daughter though.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I asked you about the boy you’re not texting, and you deflected like a pro. Instead you got my life story. I know you probably think I’ll snitch, but I won’t.”
“I don’t think you’d snitch.” I’m a big fat liar.
She continues to smirk, but she doesn’t call my lie. “Girls like me and you – we have to look out for each other. If your daddy’s anything like mine, you and I could actually have an amazing friendship.”
I frown. “How so?”
“As in, your daddy thinks you’re an angel. My daddy think’s I’m an angel. Put us together, and they won’t say no to a single thing. They’ll never question us.”
“This sounds like a prequel to us both getting arrested.”
She laughs. “No. I don’t mean like that. I just mean, if we have each other’s backs, we might find just a tiny bit more freedom in our ridiculously strict lives. So…”
“So what?”
“Your phone keeps vibrating. You gonna answer it?”
My eyes snap down to my ringing phone, and my belly drops. Answer it and let her know about Sam? Ignore it, and let Sam freak about why I suddenly went missing? What if she’s full of it? What if she throws me under the bus?
I have less than a year left here. Not that long until I turn eighteen. If she snitches, I guess it’s not the end of the world. Just a sneaky senior year…
Sam’s call disconnects again, my phone goes deathly silent for twenty or so seconds, then it starts vibrating all over again.
Meg smiles and pulls us into a park area on the far side of the street. Tall trees shade us and lush green grass cushions us.Without another word, the prim and proper Megan Elizabeth Montgomery flops to the grass, pulling me down with her so our heads practically touch. My heart thumps dangerously in my chest, but at her smile, I hesitantly answer the call.
She already knows there’s someone.
“Hello?”
“Sammy?”
“Hey.”
“Did you drop your cell in the toilet or something?”
Meg and I both snicker at the same time, and at hearing hers, mine cuts off immediately. My eyes snap to her dancing gaze, and she bounces her brows.
“Sammy?” he asks quietly. “Who’s with you?”
“Umm…”
“Is it the snitch--”
I cough sharply, but Meg cackles out a laugh anyway. I look to her with apologetic eyes, but she just shakes her head. “Hello, boy on the phone,” she says loud enough he can clearly hear. “I’m Meg… the snitch that promises she won’t snitch.”
“… Sammy?”
“Umm… yeah. So that was Meg.”
“Is she gonna snitch?”
I shrug my shoulders, though of course he can’t see. “She says she won’t.”
“Do you believe her?”
I bend my neck and look into her eager eyes. She nods her head, but I shake mine. “I dunno. I’ve only known her for three minutes.”
“I don’t know what to do right now,” he admits shakily. “Do I hang up and hope she forgets I exist?”
Even I snicker this time at the trepidation in his voice. “I guess that boat already sailed.” Meg turns over onto her stomach and elbows, and spins blades of grass in her fingers while she pretends not to listen to us. “I dunno. I guess it’s too late now. But she doesn’t know your name yet, so…”
“I know his name isn’t Future Husband, Cupcake, Handsome.” She laughs. “I mean, it could be, but that’s a lot of letters to fill out on social security forms.”
“Can she hear everything I’m saying right now?”
“Pretty much. She’s right next to me.”
“Okay…”
“Do you wanna go back to texting me?” I ask with a soft laugh. “I think we’re okay. She hasn’t snitched yet. And she doesn’t know your name--”
“Hey Turner! Let’s go.”
“Luc!” Sam snaps on his end of the line, then Luc’s “what?”
“Turner…” Meg mumbles with a smirk. After a long tense minute, she looks up at me with kind eyes. “Innocent till proven guilty, right? I won’t snitch on you. You have my word.”
“She sounds hot, who’s that?”
“Luc!” Sam snaps out. “Back the fuck up away from me or I’ll break your face.”
“Jesus, you’re cranky today.”
“He’s cranky today,” Meg snickers.
I bite my bottom lip, because it’s a little bit funny. Meg’s going to know who’s who as soon as she steps into home room on Monday. There are only so many Turners in our grade, and even less with best friends with big mouths named Luc. I turn my attention back to Sam. “What are you doing right now?”
“We’re supposed to be practicing.”
“But…”
“But I wanted to talk to you. I miss you, Sammy. I miss your pretty face and your candy smelling hair.”
“Aww, he’s sweet.” Meg leans over and sniffs my hair. “You found a big ol’ teddy bear, didn’t you?”
I bite my lip again and resist the urge to smack her shoulder. But I nod. Because, she’s not wrong.
“So you guys were heading to town to get ice-cream?”
“Yeah, our dads wanted us to get lost--”
“Let’s go to Dixie’s!” Luc shouts again.
“Hold on a second,” Sam says to me, then I listen to the phone being moved around and dropped, then the loud thump of someone hitting someone.
“Ouch, Turner. Fuck off!”
“We’re not going to Dixie’s, so shut it.”
More shuffling of the phone, then Sam picks it up and brings it to his ear. “Sorry, Ricci, I’m here.”
“Listen, I’ll let you go back to practice. The guys sound like they need some attention, but I’ll see you… you know…” at the lake in the morning. Snitch or not, no way in hell am I announcing that in front of Meg.
“I don’t wanna say goodbye yet…”
“Tell ‘em to come over,” Luc suggests quickly. “We’re not getting anything useful done, and we need to name the band. Maybe Sammy can help us.”
“She’s got a snitch with her,” Sam answers quietly, but Meg snickers again anyway. Jesus, we’re horrible people. So much judgement on someone I’ve literally only just met.
I look to Meg and watch her spin more blades of grass. “You wanna go over to the guys’ house?”
“I don’t want to be in anyone’s way. But you can go. I’ll hang out here for a few hours. Daddy will never have to know we split up. I don’t mind.”
“Yeah,” Sam agrees quickly. “Do that. Come over, Ricci.”
Guilt eats at my stomach. “No… I can’t ditch you. You wanna come over to Turner’s, or you wanna get ice-cream?”
She watches me for a long moment, as though she’s unsure why I just won’t take the opportunity I so clearly want to take. I do want to take it. I want to see Sam, but I’m not ditching her to do it.
“Come on.” I bump her shoulder with mine, then climb to my feet and pull her up. “Come meet some of your new school friends.” I bring the phone back to my ear. “We’re gonna come over. Is that cool?”
“Of course it’s cool. I’ll come get you guys.”
“No, it’s fine. We’ll walk. We’ll see you in ten minutes.”
“Ang can come get you in the car.”
“Seriously,” I tell him. “We’ll be ten minutes. Where’s your mom and dad?”
“They’re in the house.”
I come to a screeching halt, tugging on Megan’s shirt and stopping her too. “Your parents are there? I can’t come over.”
He chuckles. “They’re inside the house. We’re in the garage. They won’t even know you’re here, and even if they did, they wouldn’t mind. They’re used to my friends being here all the time.”
“Your guy friends, maybe, but not girls.”
“No, girls come over lots too.”
My eyes pop wide at the same time Megan snickers. “You have girls over all the time, Samuel?”
“Wait? His name’s Samuel?”
“Not like that, Ricci. I just meant, our house is kinda the hang out for everyone. We have guys and girls here all the time. We have a skate ramp in the back yard… our house is just the place everyone hangs out. And since the guys are always here, girls follow.”
“Are there girls there right now?”
“No! Actually, yes. Britt and Kari and the twins are here.”
“Britt and Kari and the twins?”
“Our sisters,” he says quickly. “Britt is my sister. Kari is my foster sister. The twins are Luc’s sisters.”
I release Meg from my tight grasp and we continue walking. “I didn’t know you had a foster sister.”
“Yeah, Marc and Kari are my foster siblings. And since Luc started squatting here years ago, and he only lives up the street, the twins started following. Now Britt and Kari get along with them, so they’re always together.”
“Are there any girls from school there right now?”
“No. I didn’t mean it like that, Ricci. All I was trying to say is that there are always a billion people here. Two more won’t even make my parents blink.”
“And what if they do notice us? What if they do blink?”
“Well, it isn’t illegal for you to visit with me. So long as you don’t egg my house or anything, you’ll be fine. My folks won’t throw you under the bus, Ricci. I promise.”
“Will your dad tell my dad I was there?”
“My dad and your dad aren’t friends, Sammy. When they talk, it isn’t sharing stories from the weekend.”
My voice turns soft, even as I hear music start up in Sam’s background. “Does your dad hate my dad, Sam? Does he hate me?”
“No. My dad doesn’t hate anybody. But he especially doesn’t hate you. Nobody could hate you.” The drum kit starts up loudly, but I still hear him. “I love you, Ricci.”
Jesus. I’m pretty sure my heart loves him too. Stupid emotionally charged hormonal teenaged brains.
“I gotta go, okay, Ricci? But I’ll see you in a few minutes?”
“Okay.”
“I’ll see you in a few minutes, right?”
“Yeah. We’re already walking your way. See you in a bit.”
“Alright.”
I hang up and slide my phone into my skirt pocket, then I almost trip over when Megan shoulder bumps me. “Your boyfriend’s name is Sam?”
I bite my bottom lip nervously. “Uh-huh.”
“And your name is Sam…”
“Mmmhmm.”
She cackles. “That’s pretty funny. Like you were destined for each other from the womb.”
My brows lift. “That was pretty deep, Meg,”
She continues to laugh. “So these guys… they’re cute?”
“Ha! They kinda are.”
“They single?”
“Jesus. Let me introduce you to Luc. You guys will get along just fine.”
She squeals with excitement as we walk around the corner and continue toward Maple Tree Hill. Fifteen minutes later, we hit the crest of the hill and I stare up at Sam’s beautiful home. Two-stories, picture windows, porch swing. Wide open garage door.
My heart does a little flutter as they continue to practice what’s actually a really fluid, rhythmic tune. They’re not crap. They’re quite amazing, but as Meg and I continue walking along their driveway, my eyes lock into Sam’s as he stares me down. His left foot taps the concrete floor, his hands caress the microphone as softly as he holds me, and his guitar hangs loosely over his shoulder, swinging softly as though he just tossed it back for the chorus.
‘She was mine way before she knew it.’
“Girrrrrrl.” Meg’s hand wraps around my forearm tightly, and we stand there watching our own live show.
‘Elegance and class.’ He smirks at me. ‘With a banging great ass.’
“He did not write a song about your ass, Sammy.”
“Umm…”
‘True love will wait, for that first true kiss, then he’ll ask her for true wedded bliss.’
“I sure hope Samuel Turner is the singer, cause he’s eating you up with his eyes.”
“Uh-huh.”
“We have three seconds till he sprints over here and takes you away. Quick, tell me who’s who.”
“Luc’s on the drums. Marc on the bass. Angelo on the keyboard.”
“All single?”
“Yup…” I frown. “I’m pretty sure. You could probably hang with Luc. He’s flirty as hell and always open to new female fans. The other two are pretty quiet.”
“Alrighty.” She smiles wickedly, then releases my arm and walks forward, swinging her hips and pushing her chest out confidently. Sam’s song comes to an end, then with a flirty wink and a subtle air kiss, he steps back from his microphone as the other guys trail off with their instruments.
“I love it when the pretty girls come to practice,” Luc drawls and stands from his drum kit. He spins a stick between his fingers and looks Meg up and down. “We have a new girl at school, Sammy?”
Sam steps forward, takes my hand in his and pulls me into his chest. His nose goes directly to my hair, as though he really did miss the candy smell. “It’s good to see you, Ricci.”
I smile as I press my face to his chest. “Missed you.”
“Still feels unreal,” he murmurs softly. “I spent years asking for this, and now I have it.”
“Sorry I made you wait so long.”
“I’d wait a lifetime for you.”
Yeah. Emotion and hormones aside, I’m pretty sure he would, and I’m pretty sure I’m in love with him too.
Luc scoffs when I still don’t answer his question, so he takes matters into his own hands, literally taking Meg’s hand in his and kissing it like the fool he is. “I’m Luca.”
Meg laughs softly, but she does the tiny curtsy thing again. “Hi Luca. You can call me Meg.”
“Meg. Pretty name. You just moved here?”
“Yeah. Brand new to town. Will we have classes together? I definitely need friends.”
“You and me?” He smiles charmingly. “No, we won’t have classes together. I’m still a sophomore, but you’ll have classes with the Sams.”
Meg’s hand drops from his instantly, like he’s a live wire and he just electrocuted her. “How old are you, Luc?”
“I’m fifteen, but--”
Her eyes flare wide, like she accidentally stepped on a crunchy bug, then dismissing him quickly, she moves onto Marc. Luc’s face falls so hard, I actually laugh. Young or not, he’s never rejected by the girls. Meg takes Marc’s hand in hers. “Hi, I’m Meg. And I don’t fancy going to jail for kissing children.”
Marc is almost a full foot taller than Meg, despite the fact he’s also younger, and he uses his impressive height to look down at her. “Also sophomore, and you don’t just get to diss my friend and jump to the next one. That’s not how we do things around here. So, nice to meetcha, Meg, but I ain’t buying what you’re selling.”
Her brows lift quickly, but she nods softly and does her tiny curtsy. “I meant no disrespect. Nice to meet you, too.” She looks to Angelo, but without introducing herself, she turns back to me. “I should go.”
Sam drags us forward and shakes his head. “It’s fine. Stay.” He extends his hand toward her, even as my body remains plastered to his chest. “I’m Sam Turner. These are my brothers. Welcome to town, Meg.”
“Thanks.” She turns around the garage quickly, then spotting a giant beanbag filled to capacity in the corner, she turns toward it. “I’ll go sit down. You and Sammy can visit with each other, and I won’t intrude. I wanna check in with my friends anyway. I haven’t replied to their texts from yesterday, so… Just pretend I’m not here.” She walks away quickly, flops into the chair gracelessly, and crosses one knee over the other so her left leg sits high in the air. She bounces her toes and flips her phone open.
Crap.
Luc scowls and sits back at his drumkit, and Marc continues to watch her for a long minute, his scowl a billion times more severe than Luc’s. I’m still kind of new in this group too, so I don’t even know all the dynamics yet, but I figure Marcus is all about loyalty. These people literally took him and his sister in, so I guess if anyone will get mad about someone dismissing his best friend, it’ll be Marc.
Angelo continues to fuss at his keyboard, but picks up a notepad from a small table off to the side and looks up at everyone. “We still need a name, guys. We can’t promote ourselves properly without a name.”
“I’m still into The Hearing Pandas,” Luc suggests quickly. His smile replaces the scowl instantly, Meg’s rejection forgotten just like that. He looks at me to explain. “You know, like, Def Leppard, but Hearing Pandas. I can already see the logo. Like a panda, maybe with some headphones on, or a guitar. Imagine all the swag we could get; cell covers, keyrings, pens.”
“You want people to walk around with pandas on their car keys?” Sam asks him snidely. “Are you high?”
“No,” he laughs. “Or maybe…” He stops when Angelo continues to glare at him. “Never mind.”
“Do we have any serious suggestions?”
The guys all breathe out deep exasperated sighs. I feel like they’ve had this talk a million times before.
“Who cares?” Marc whines. “I’ve said it a million times before. Everyone already knows who we are. We’re just ‘the band.’ Just leave it be.”
“We can’t just leave it be,” Angelo argues. “When we decide to promote, what will our flyers say? Saturday night at The Shed, come down and see ‘the band.’ That’s dumb!”
“That’s exactly what it could say!” Marc snaps back. “Cause that’s what it already is. And guess what? People still turn up.”
“What’s the shed?”
We all turn to Meg as she sits riveted on our group, with her phone still in front of her, but her ruse of not listening in long ago abandoned.
“The Shed is literally just a shed. We play there on weekends, and everyone comes out to party.”
Meg’s eyes light up. “That’s cool. Do you get a lot of people there?”
“Yeah, it’s packed every weekend,” Luc answers smugly.
Meg looks at me. “Is it fun?”
“I wouldn’t know.” I roll my eyes. “My folks haven’t let me go yet.”
“Your boyfriend is in a band at a party spot that gets numbers through the door every single weekend, and you’ve never been?”
I purse my lips. “That’s an accurate description of my life, thanks.”
She snickers, then inelegantly stands from her noisy beanbag and walks over to stop in front of me. “We should go.” She looks to Sam. “Can anyone go? Is it invite only?”
“Sammy’s always on the invite list.”
Meg smiles at him triumphantly. “Seriously, a teddy bear. So, we should go. When’s the next one?”
“Next one’s tonight,” Marc grumbles. “And he said Sammy’s invited. Not you.”
She purses her lips at him, then she turns back to me. “He’s a bear too, huh? Just the grizzly kind.”
Laughter rumbles through Sam’s chest as he squeezes me tighter. He kisses my neck just below my ear, daringly nibbling on the lobe with his teeth. “You should come tonight, Ricci. I’d love to spend a Shed night with you.”
“We can’t do tonight,” Meg says before I can answer. “I literally met her today, so my daddy won’t believe me if I said we’re having a sleepover, but next weekend! We’ll definitely come next weekend.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s not gonna happen. I’ve been asking for three years. It’s not going to happen.”
Sam chuckles again. “I told you guys I wasn’t wrong. She’s been asking for three years.”
Luc rolls his eyes. “Yeah, we know, Turner. When you know, you know.”
“And I knew.”
Angelo huffs impatiently. “Okay. Whatever. We need a name, and we need to practice.”
“Who cares?” Meg brushes him off. “What we need to do is lay the groundwork for next weekend.”
“I thought you were gonna sit in the corner and pretend you’re not here?” Marc snaps rudely. “I liked that two minutes of silence. It was… quiet.”
“Jesus, Junior. You really have a bee under your bonnet today, huh?”
“You gonna go to The Shed and find someone else to kiss, Meg? Struck out on Luc, struck out on me, Angelo’s not gonna slum, and Turner’s taken. Time to cast your net wider?”
“Holy shit, you’ve known me for three seconds, and you’re already calling me a whore?”
“I didn’t say whore.” He smirks. “But if the designer heels fit.”
“Yeah, well. That was a fun chat, jackass. Anyway.” She turns toward me and Sam. “You want your girl at The Shed next weekend, I could probably make it happen. You don’t want me there, well, that’s sucky and hurts my feelings a little bit, but whatever. Not everyone has to like me.”
Sam sighs against me. “The Shed ain’t a VIP club, Meg. Anyone can get in.”
She shrugs. “Well, like I said. Whatever. You guys can keep practicing or whatever, and I’ll go sit down and talk to my friends. I’ll lay the groundwork, me and Sammy will be having a sleepover next weekend, and your girl can finally know what it’s like to party after seven p.m.”
“You’d know what that’s like,” Marc snaps angrily, then uncharacteristically, he grabs a skateboard with a flourishing snap of his arm, and he heads out a side door.
Meg grits her teeth. “You know, I truly didn’t mean to piss anyone off. I’m not actually a bitch.”
Angelo’s eyes stay low and shadowed by his thick brows, and he absentmindedly draws on the note pad from earlier. “He’ll be alright, Meg. Probably don’t hit on anyone in front of him though.”
“Why? He doesn’t even know me. He isn’t my father, and he isn’t my boyfriend. Why should I watch who I talk to?”
Angelo looks up finally, meeting her gaze warily. “You don’t have to do anything. Like you just said, you don’t know him, and he doesn’t know you. I’m just saying, if you want him to stop scowling at you, maybe lay low. First impressions are important, and you just essentially dumped his best friend then jumped to him. Marc is all about loyalty, and he didn’t like what he just saw.”
She scoffs and turns toward the beanbag again. “The thing is, I don’t really care what he thinks. He’s a fifteen-year-old kid with some kinda bulldog complex. He doesn’t scare me.”
“I’m a fifteen-year-old guy with a god complex and sexy body. What does that make me?”
Meg looks over her shoulder at Luc, then turning away and taking out her phone again, she replies, “That makes you cute, Luca. But until you’re eighteen, it also makes you a big fat nope.” She turns back to me. “But don’t worry, no matter how grumpy Marc is, I promise I won’t snitch on you guys. You have my word.”