Chapter Eleven
Annie
After Rob leaves, our parents head to the living room to talk about their upcoming tour. My band and I drift back into the music room, buzzing, talking over each other as the excitement sinks in.
Aston sits as far away from me as possible.
Caleb is on one side of me, Ella on the other, as we sit in a circle on the floor.
“So this is going to be huge for us, I just know it!” Caleb says.
“Fuck yeah, as long as I get to wear my socks, I’m happy,” Chad adds, and we all laugh. He’s so obsessed with his damn filthy socks.
“So when do you think we’ll hear about time in the recording studio and making changes to our songs to make them radio-worthy?” Aston asks. His voice is soft, and he still won’t look at me. He’s been quiet for the last hour and is totally avoiding me.
Not that I blame him. I pushed him away, and that’s gotta hurt.
“Not sure, but we have to play it cool. I know how exciting this is, but we don’t want to come across as kids. Well, I won’t, but you guys might,” Caleb jabs.
I roll my eyes. “Caleb, just because you’re years older doesn’t mean we’re going to act like idiots. Yeah, we might show it more than you, but that’s not a bad thing, right?”
He chuckles. “No, but sometimes when things don’t go your way, Annie, you get worked up. In this industry, things won’t always go our way. We need to keep it together, especially in public—”
“Are you saying this to the whole band or just me?” I cut in.
“To everyone. But especially you.”
I fold my arms. “Fine. I know how to behave. Why do you think I left tonight after we played? I didn’t want to make a scene when things got a bit much.” The words slip out before I can stop them.
I glance at Aston.
He swallows hard, staring at his hands.
Dammit.
“Well, I’m glad you didn’t go off in front of Rob, but instead of leaving, you should’ve taken a breath and pushed through.
That could’ve blown it for us. That, and your little solo stunt.
You’re lucky you’re damn good at what you do, Annie.
It threw me when you kept going, and I doubt I’m not the only one,” Caleb says.
I shake my head. “Fine! I’m sorry. But you have to admit the new solo is better than the old one. Right?”
He rolls his eyes but agrees. “Yeah, but you should run it by us first. We’re a band. We work as a unit. Don’t pull that shit again live.”
I slump slightly. “Okay… fine, Dad.”
“Call me whatever you want. Just be smart about this—”
“You calling me dumb?”
“No. We’ve had this conversation before. You’re not dumb. You just let your impulses take over. Stop acting like nothing matters and start thinking about the bigger picture. What you do affects everyone.”
I don’t need to look far to know he’s right.
Aston’s still sitting there, quiet and distant.
I could get defensive, snap back, make this a whole thing, but that’s exactly what Caleb’s talking about.
“Okay… I’ll do better,” I murmur.
The excitement from earlier fades, replaced by a heavy knot in my chest. All I can think about is Aston, and how badly I’ve messed this up. When I brushed my pinky against his hand before, I thought he might hold it.
Instead, he pulled away.
“Okay, now that’s out of the way,” Caleb says, clapping his hands lightly. “If we go on tour, we can’t let the fame go to our heads. We’re family. That comes first. If anything’s wrong, talk to me, or someone who can talk to me. I’ve got your back. Always.”
Even when he’s being a pain, Caleb means well.
“Thanks, Caleb,” Ella says.
“Yeah, thanks, man,” Chad adds.
Aston and I stay silent. I glance at him again, and he looks as miserable as I feel. I just don’t know how to fix this.
Caleb and Chad start talking again, laughing, the mood lifting around them, but I feel stuck outside of it, watching from a distance. Even from a few feet away, I feel Aston. That familiar pull, like something under my skin reacting every time he shifts.
I stand and walk over to my phone, scrolling through Instagram to give myself something else to focus on. Anything other than the mess I’ve made.
“Hey, are you okay?” Ella asks softly, stepping up beside me.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I reply.
She rests a hand on my shoulder, but I barely register it. My eyes drift straight back to Aston.
He’s with the guys, but not really there.
And he won’t look at me.
A sharp panic hits.
What if he never talks to me again?
What if I’ve completely ruined this?
I bite my lip, trying to steady myself, but it doesn’t help.
Ella pulls me into a hug, but I don’t respond because I can’t stop staring at him.
A sob slips out before I can catch it.
Everyone turns.
My hand flies to my mouth as tears spill down my cheeks.
Aston frowns, confusion flickering across his face.
I can’t do this.
I pull out of Ella’s arms and bolt from the room, needing space, away from the laughter, the excitement, all of it, because I feel anything but happy.
All I want is Aston.
Maybe I’ve been wrong this whole time.
Maybe this… whatever this is… isn’t just friendship.
I race upstairs and into my room, slamming the door behind me. I don’t mean to… it just happens. Then I cross to my bed, swiping at my face, trying to pull myself together.
I hate feeling like this.
It’s confusing.
Part of me wants him to hold me so badly it hurts.
And another part is terrified of what that would mean if he did.
I lean over to my bedside table, grab my phone, and slip the earbuds in. I lie back on the bed, letting the heavy beats of an old band, Orgy’s cover of “Blue Monday,” wash over me as I close my eyes.
Knock. Knock.
I barely hear it over the music. My eyes flicker open, and I glance toward the door. It’s probably Ella.
“Come in,” I call, pulling the earbuds out as I sit up.
The door opens, and it’s not Ella.
Aston stands in the doorway, looking as wrecked as I feel.
I wipe at my cheek, swallowing past the lump in my throat.
“Can we talk?” he asks.
Every instinct in me screams to go to him, to close the distance, but I stay where I am and nod. He steps inside, shutting the door behind him, then crosses the room, sits beside me on the bed, and our legs brush. The contact sends a spark racing through me, sharp and sudden.
I look away, trying to hide how much that one small touch affects me.
His hand settles on my leg, squeezing lightly. “Annie, I don’t know what I’ve done,” he says, voice tight. “You won’t look at me. You’re avoiding me. I’m your best friend… what’s going on? What did I do?”
“I’m not avoiding you,” I say quietly. “You’re avoiding me. And you didn’t do anything.”
He exhales sharply. “Then why won’t you look at me?”
I turn to him, and for a second, I forget how to breathe.
His blue eyes are brighter up close, his features sharper, stronger than I remember noticing before. He’s changed… or maybe I’ve just never really seen him like this.
Something shifts between us.
The air feels thicker.
Charged.
My gaze drifts, unintentionally, to his lips, and I wet mine without thinking. Suddenly, I’m very aware of how close we are.
He swallows, his chest rising with a quick inhale. “Annie… I like you.”
The words hit me like a shockwave, and I blink, trying to process, my heart kicking hard against my ribs.
“Say something,” he adds, almost desperate.
“You… do?” I breathe. A slow, almost disbelieving smile pulls at my lips as warmth spreads through me.
Maybe… this is what I’ve been feeling too.
He nods, lifting his hand to my face. His palm cups my cheek, his thumb brushing lightly across my skin. The touch is gentle, but it sends a rush of heat through me. My eyes close for a second as I lean into it, and when I open them again, he’s smiling, and it steals the air right out of my lungs.
We shift closer.
Slowly.
Carefully.
My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it everywhere.
His gaze flicks between my eyes and my mouth, like he’s trying to figure out if this is really happening.
I lean in first.
Just enough.
Letting him know I want this too.
Everything else fades away.
The confusion, the fear, the tension from earlier, all of it disappears until there’s nothing left but him.
His hand slides to the back of my head, fingers threading gently into my hair as he draws me closer.
I close my eyes as his nose brushes mine, his breath warm against my lips.
And then…
He kisses me.
Soft and careful, like he’s afraid I might pull away.
But I don’t.
I lean into him, pressing closer, letting myself feel it. The warmth, the spark, the way everything inside me seems to light up all at once. I part my lips slightly, unsure, following instinct more than anything else.
He deepens the kiss, slow and tentative, and something inside me melts. My hand lifts to his cheek, fingertips brushing along the roughness of his jaw as I hold onto him.
It feels… right.
More right than anything has ever felt.
The kiss deepens, growing more certain, more confident. His hands move to frame my face, holding me to him as if he doesn’t want to let go. I slide one hand into his hair, gripping lightly, needing him closer—every second pulls me further under.
His body shifts nearer, his chest brushing mine as our breathing turns uneven. Heat builds low in my stomach, unfamiliar but impossible to ignore. He leans into me, and I follow, letting myself fall back onto the mattress. He comes with me, bracing himself above me, but still close… so close.
I instinctively wrap my legs around him, needing the closeness, needing more of him, and a quiet sound escapes me, surprising us both.
His eyes flicker open, locking with mine.
For a moment, everything slows.
The kiss softens, then deepens in a different way—less frantic, more… intentional.
My fingers tighten in his hair as I hold onto him, grounding myself in this moment.
In him.
The tension between us shifts, settles into something heavier, and I don’t want it to stop.
Not now.
Not ever.
I close my eyes again, letting myself get lost in it.
In him.
If I’m honest, part of me has always known Aston would be my first kiss. And something tells me… he won’t be the last first either.
My fingers slide into his hair again, holding him close as the kiss deepens.
His lips leave mine, trailing along my jaw, then down to my neck. The warmth of his mouth sends a shiver through me, stealing the breath from my lungs. My head tips back against the pillow, my chest rising and falling too fast.
He moves back up, finding my lips again, and I meet him there without hesitation.
Nothing else matters.
Not the band.
Not the tension.
Not the confusion.
Just this.
Just us.
And then…
My door slams open.
“What the fuck?” Dad yells.