Chapter 37
CHAPTER
THIRTY-SEVEN
MADDEN
“The band that was supposed to perform at Carson’s Halloween party pulled out. I was just wondering if maybe…” Cori bats her eyelashes and I feel the hair stand up on the back of my neck.
“No fucking way, Chicago.”
“Puh-lease, Mad!” She whines. “You’re gonna have to be there anyway. Wouldn’t it be better to just play so you wouldn’t have to associate with anyone?”
She has a point.
“You make an excellent argument.”
“See,” she smirks. “You win, I win. Everyone is happy.”
“Why didn’t Carson ask me himself?”
She smiles, “He was going to, but I figured I’d have a better chance at success.”
“Yeah, I definitely would’ve said no to him.”
She stands up from my bed, “So you’ll do it?”
“Maybe, I’ll see if Grady is in and if we can get someone to play bass guitar.”
“Eeek!” she squeals, wrapping me into a hug. “I already asked Grady. He’s down.”
Of course, she did.
“This is gonna be great, Mad. Plus, I hear a certain someone is coming back tomorrow.”
I play stupid, “Who?”
She prods me with her elbow, “Just the girl you write your songs about, idiot.”
Oh, for Pete’s sake.
“We’re not together,” I remind her. “How do you even know she is coming back?”
“Carson.”
I figured as much. “Why are you hanging out with him so much?”
“We’re friends. You know, like you and Lainey.”
A small smirk finds my lips, “Lainey and I don’t have sex.”
“Good try,” she snaps. “Neither do we.”
“But you and Nash do?” I fire back.
“No. Nash and I just… well, we fight.”
I remember the way he showed up before school to pick her up, “I bet he gets off on it, too. I bet he fantasizes about chasing you through a dark and dreary forest, only to choke you against a tree.”
She laughs, “That’s actually scarily accurate.”
I snort, “Just stay away from him. I don’t think any good can come from it. Whatever ridiculous notion you have in your head, just squash it. You can’t save him from himself.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she blows me off, but I’m not about to just let it go. I know this is about more than just games.
“I’m serious, Cori.”
“So am I,” she sasses. “It’s not a thing. I doubt it will ever be a thing.”
“Thank God,” I mutter.
“I’ll tell Carson that you guys are in. Let me know if anything changes.”
She stares at her phone, rushing to type out a message.
“You need a ride home?”
“No,” she rushes, her fingers still moving a hundred miles an hour. “That was my Aunt Lauren, she’s pulling up outside. My parents want to do a video call with us tonight to talk about a plan for the next few weeks, so that should be interesting.”
I wince, “I kinda forgot you left them behind. That has to be hard for them.”
She shrugs, “Yeah, I miss them. I kinda thought that maybe one of them would’ve come with me, but I understand why they didn’t. Dad has his coaching job, and mom has too many things relying on her to just leave. Not without notice anyway.”
“Well, call me if you need anything. Even if you just want to talk.”
“Alright, thanks, Mad. And thanks for playing at the Halloween party. Everyone will love your music. I owe you one.”
I wink, “Believe me, I’ll collect. Might even make you clean my room.”
She looks around and snarls her nose, “On that note, I’m leaving.”
We both laugh as she exits, and I stare at my drums in the corner of my room. We’ve never actually played a full set like this. I can’t help but be a little nervous that people might hate us.
It wasn’t a hard decision, though. Either pretend I want to be at a Legacy party and carry around a red solo cup like a shield, or hide behind my music. Easy choice, when my music is where I feel safe anyway.
I glance at the clock. It’s nearly a quarter past nine, and I still have two things on my list to take care of tonight.
My phone buzzes against the wood of my nightstand.
Avery
I’m home. Finally. You would think that my dad would be here. He’s not.
Madden
I’m on my way.
Avery
Gate code 1005
I don’t want to go another minute without seeing her when she is just five minutes away.
And I’ll be damned if the first night she comes home, she’s alone.
That just doesn’t sit right with me. So thing number two on my list will have to wait until tomorrow because if I have anything to say about it, I won’t be leaving Avery tonight.
When I pull up to the gate, I remember why I usually avoid this part of town. The only people that can afford to live in this neighborhood are swimming in cash. Those are typically the type of Legacy kids I don’t want to associate with.
Sure, I have been in Avery’s house a few times for parties. Hell, she is the only reason I went to them. Even then, I could tell there was something between us, with her stolen glances and sideways stares, which I happily returned. Still, I know I don’t belong here.
I pull into the circle driveway and park right behind Avery’s car. She beats me to the door, pulling it open and stepping out before I can get there to ring the bell.
Her long hair is cut shorter, about shoulder length, and her makeup is light, her face almost bare. Maybe getting away for a while was good for her.
It surprises me when she runs up to me, jumping into my arms. The muscle in my chest squeezes when I realize she’s wearing my clothes.
The same ones she left wearing the last time I saw her.
I suffocate in her scent, my face buried in her hair.
She smells like a mixture of perfume and vanilla milkshake. It’s intoxicating.
“I missed you,” she whispers in my ear, kissing my cheek.
“Same, pretty girl. I’m glad you’re home. Do you feel better?”
My heart clenches when I look at her. She seems sad, lonely even. Coming home to this million-dollar mansion with no one to fill it.
“I feel better now that you’re here.” She grabs my hand, tugging me into her house, “Do you want something to drink?”
She opens the fridge, scanning its contents. “Well, do you want a bottle of water? My assistant Lindsay must’ve had the kitchen stocked. My dad would’ve at least gotten juice or something.”
“What do you want to eat?” I ask. “It’s your first night home. I’m sure you don’t want bottled water and a Lean Cuisine.”
She laughs, “Don’t be silly. Lindsay would never allow me to eat Lean Cuisine.”
Now, I’m pissed. I don’t like Lindsay at all.
“Slip your shoes on. We’re leaving.”
She smiles, “Where are we going?”
“Wherever you want.”
Ten minutes later, we’re in the Taco Bell drive-thru, and I’ve never seen her look so normal.
“This is so good! I can already imagine Lindsay’s face as she scribbles these calories into her notebook.”
She takes a sip of her Baja Blast, returning it to the cupholder between us, but I’m so pissed I don’t even think I can speak. Not without losing it.
Her pain feels like my pain, and I’d take it all if I could.
I feel a little anxious, so I pull out a cigarette, lighting it up. She doesn’t complain, not like I expect. Instead, she reaches for the volume on the stereo, turning it up.
“I love this song,” she grins, singing along with Billie Eilish about Ocean eyes.
Her voice is angelic and haunting.
“I didn’t know you could sing.”
“Everyone can sing,” she dismisses.
“Yeah, well, not everyone can sing like that.”
She waves me off, “Nah, I’m not that good. Besides, I’ve heard you sing.”
I’m desperate to change the subject. I don’t like being the center of any conversation, especially when it’s centered around my vocals. I don’t like to sing in front of a crowd. Play the drums? Sure. Guitar? Hell yes. Sing? Just no.
“We’re playing at Carson’s Halloween party this weekend. Me and some of the guys.”
Her expression falls, “Oh, really? I didn’t realize that was this weekend.”
I don’t like how her light is dimmed at the mention of Carson, “Did something happen? Have you talked to him?”
She throws her taco wrapper into the bag on the floorboard, “Not really. Lindsay is coming up with a way to spin the breakup. It’s going to be hard without people choosing sides.”
I feel myself getting defensive, “Have you talked to him or not?”
“We’ve messaged back and forth a little since I got home a few hours ago. Why?”
I reel myself back in, remembering she isn’t exactly mine, “I just think it’s shitty he apparently loved you, and then when you needed him, he wasn’t there.”
She shrugs, “Don’t overthink it. Carson and I were broken up before I left. I didn’t ask him to write to me. I didn’t even give him the address.”
I’m the only person she wanted to write to her?
“Oh.”
“Yeah, it’s been over for a while, Madden.”
Typically, my jealousy doesn’t rear its nasty head that often, but it’s like venturing into the unknown with Avery. Not to mention, it’s out of my comfort zone. What would she even want with a guy like me?
We pull back into her house and she leads me up the stairs to her room. A part of this house I’ve never seen. Her space.
There is more to Avery Sinclair than what you see when you search for her on Instagram.
I notice an acoustic guitar in the corner and absolutely nothing is pink like I would’ve thought.
I was envisioning Barbie’s bedroom but this is different, it feels more personal.
Her luggage is still packed and stacked in the middle of the floor.
“What’s wrong?” She asks, plopping down on her green comforter.
“Nothing,” I smile. “Just didn’t picture this being your room.”
“Well, it’s the only place Lindsay hasn’t tainted with her version of perfect.”
“You can play?” I question, motioning to the guitar in the corner.
“A little,” her smile softens. “My mom taught me.”
My chest hurts, her mom taught her, and she’s gone.
“Why don’t you show that on Instagram? All this stuff is way more interesting than makeup.”
She rolls her eyes, “Everything that is posted is scheduled and meticulously planned.”
“But what if it wasn’t.”
She stands up, “Come here.”
We walk into the hallway and across the hall. She opens the door to a pink and gold staged bedroom. An expensive-looking chandelier, a vanity, ring lights everywhere.
“What is this?”