Chapter 3 #2
“Why do you look like someone just killed our dog?” Drew asked as I stormed into the room.
“Hotel’s completely booked,” I said, slamming the door behind me. “All I got was a refund.”
“Hey!” Drew said, holding his hand out for a high five. “That’s awesome.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that it’s still stifling in here,” I complained, ignoring his waiting hand. I pulled a clean set of clothes out of my backpack and stepped into the bathroom. “I’m taking a shower.”
After locking the bathroom door, I stripped off my dirty clothes, turned on the faucet and, without waiting for the water to warm, stepped into the tub. My insides were a quivering mess. The frigid temperature helped numb my body, but it did nothing to ease my guilt.
God, what was wrong with me? It had felt so good to take my anger out on the Heartbreakers, but they didn’t deserve that kind of diatribe.
None of them forced me to stand in line at the meet-and-greet, and while their presence was responsible for the hotel being at capacity, I couldn’t lay the blame for a booking mistake at their feet.
The incident in the elevator kept replaying in my head, specifically the moment when I noticed Oliver’s expressionless stare, and my guilt redoubled.
He probably hated me now, not that it mattered—we’d never see each other again.
Drew knocked on the door, interrupting my thoughts. “Stella, I ordered room service,” he called over the noise of the shower. “Is pizza okay?”
“Sure,” I answered and turned off the water. I didn’t feel completely better—I was still embarrassed by my behavior, but I refused to lose sleep over a guy.
After drying off, I pulled on a pair of pajama shorts and a T-shirt before heading out to the main room and turning on the TV.
There was nothing to watch except reruns of some stock crime show, so I focused on braiding my hair.
A knock sounded on the door during a particularly bloody scene, and I jumped up, happy for an excuse to avoid the gore.
“Thanks so much,” I said, pulling the door open. “We’re starve…” I trailed off. In the hall stood Oliver Perry.
“Stella,” he said.
I was staring like an idiot, but I couldn’t help it. What was he doing here?
He looked pissed, and I realized that he probably wanted an apology. The thought made my cheeks turn pink, but I knew he deserved one. I had been pretty harsh.
I opened my mouth to apologize but something entirely different came out. “How’d you get my room number?”
He pursed his lips at the question. “I had my assistant ask the front desk.”
“They gave out my room number? That’s a violation of an individual’s right to privacy!”
“Look,” he said, cutting me off. “I’m not here to argue with you about hotel policies. I was just wondering if you have a doppelg?nger.”
The abrupt subject change threw me for a loop. “Sorry, what?”
“Sorry, what?”
“Well, this morning I met a girl at Starbucks,” he explained. “She was adorable and intriguing, but now she’s MIA so the only reasonable conclusion is that there’s two of you.”
“You should have told me the truth,” I responded.
“About what exactly?” He sounded irritated, but there was something about his eyes that made me think he was more hurt than anything.
“Hmm, I don’t know,” I said, trying to hide my guilt with sarcasm. It wouldn’t help fix anything, but words were flying out of my mouth again, just like they had in the elevator. “You could have mentioned who you are.”
“You really didn’t recognize me?”
“Yes!” Oliver shot me a disbelieving look, so I quickly added, “Look, I’ve heard my sister talk about Oliver Perry a million times, but I didn’t realize that was you when we met.”
He stared at me, brows raised, as if I had just offered the answer to my own question. “That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you.”
Apologize, apologize, apologize! “Okay, well, I guess I understand,” I said in a rush. “Now I know who you are. Thanks for stopping by.” I started to shut the door, but Oliver stuck his foot out to stop me.
“Hey, wait!”
“Is that the food?” Drew called out. The bed squeaked as he got up to see what was going on.
“Hey,” Oliver said, poking his head into the room to greet my brother.
“Ah, hi.” Drew scratched the back of his head. “Don’t we know you?” After staring at Oliver for a second longer, I watched the realization wash over his face. “You’re that guy from the band. Stella, what are you doing? Let him in!”
Closing my eyes, I let a sigh hiss out of my mouth. When I released my grasp on the door, Oliver stepped in beside me. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence as everyone stared at each other.
Finally my brother spoke up. “So no offense or anything, but what exactly are you doing here? Wrong room number or something?”
“No,” I came to speak with your”—he paused to glance at me—”girlfriend?”
“Sister,” Drew corrected and shot me a curious look.
“Right, sister. Anyway, she mentioned in the elevator that you guys wanted an autograph so I thought—”
Before Oliver could finish his sentence, Drew cut him off. “Wait, you two met in the elevator?”
Damn it. Now I would have to explain everything. If Drew found out from Oliver that we actually met while I was getting coffee, he’d be beyond ticked. “Actually,” I began, already regretting my words. “It was this morning.”
Drew still looked lost, so Oliver clarified. “At Starbucks.”
“Wait, so we stood in line all day for an autograph when you had already met him?” Drew asked, gaping at me like we were insane.
I threw my hands up in the air. “I’m not Cara, Drew. I don’t have posters of the Heartbreakers hanging on my wall. I didn’t realize it was him. If I’m going to listen to a band, I’ll listen to a good one like the Sensible Grenade or Bionic Bones.”
Okay, so maybe Cara was right about the weird underground music stuff, but that didn’t make her ignorance of punk-rock legends excusable.
Oliver cleared his throat. “Um, okay. Low blow.”
My brother looked like he was going to explode, but he took a deep breath, put a hand on my shoulder, and turned to Oliver. “Could you excuse us for a moment? I need to talk to my sister.”
“Sure,” Oliver said as he shrugged his shoulders. “I just came to invite you up to our room.” He handed me key card. “Use this in the elevator. It will let you up.”
When the door shut and Oliver was gone, Drew spun around to face me. “What the heck is wrong with you?” he demanded. “Why did you keep insulting him?”
“I’m sorry,” I said, unable to meet his gaze. “I didn’t mean to, but that whole conversation was so...” Embarrassing. There was no other word for it. Yet again, Oliver had done nothing wrong, but I’d lashed out at him. He made me giddy in a school-crush sort of way, and that was mortifying.
Drew’s mouth formed a thin, straight line. “We drove down here for Cara. Not you, not me, but our sister.” Ashamed, I looked aware. “Rocket…”
It was Drew’s nickname for me, short for “bottle rocket.” He said it was because when I got agitated, my temper flared without warning, but the explosion was never very large, and my anger fizzled as quickly as it had been ignited.
Whenever I got worked up, he used the nickname as a gentle reminder for me to cool down.
“Okay, okay!” I said, twisting away from him. He was right—I had gone all Fourth of July on Oliver and wasn’t thinking clearly. “What do you want me to do?”
“Apologize,” Drew said sternly.
“I’m super sorry?”
“Nice try, Stella. We’re going up there so you can apologize to Oliver, and if you haven’t ruined our chances, maybe we can get an autograph for Cara.”
Just the mention of his name made my stomach drop. I was going to have to talk to Oliver Perry. Again.