Chapter 7
Fallen Angel
Ipull up my Poison playlist, because hair metal is the only thing that might salvage this day. Well, Poison and DC, of course. I’m ready to shake the mood and get back to the confidence I was feeling before Nathan called, so I’m exercising all my weird coping mechanisms.
He hung up on me, so he must need to focus on his baby mama situation for a bit. I’m going to enjoy the rest of my day and try not to think about him. This behavior might be classified as “avoidant” in my Psychology textbook, but it’s all I’ve got right now, so I’m going with it.
The opening riff of “Nothin’ but a Good Time” blasts, and I jump up and down a few times.
I feel better already.
Annie comes down the stairs and looks at me with a tell me everything look on her face.
“Well? Are y’all finally hookin’ up or what?”
She grins like she knows something that I don’t.
“What? No! I mean, he’s on the way, but …”
“Woooooo, girl! Lock him down. It’s about dang time!” She’s cheering like this is a sport now.
“Oh. My. Word. Stop! He’s helping me get my car fixed.
He said to trust him, so since Nathan seems busy with his unfortunate circumstances, I’ve decided I will.
Wait, what time is it? I thought you had a class.
Why are you here?” I rush all my words together before I lose her to her own narrative again.
“I logged in online for a few minutes. Your life seems like a more educational case study than what we’re doing in class.”
Annie’s a psych major too, but her concentration is counseling, and I lean more toward the social and communication side of psych with a creative writing minor. I also take education courses with my electives. I’m honestly not sure what direction I’m going yet, so I’m covering all my bases.
Annie originally had a volleyball scholarship, but a broken arm and surgery set her back.
She changed her major from exercise science to psychology, but she’s focusing more on general education courses first—because I told her to.
It’ll save her from taking extra classes later if she changes her major again.
Sometimes I feel more than three years older based on life experience, but Annie’s pretty set on a career in counseling and I'm not sure what I want to do yet. I coach my siblings and younger friends about their educational paths all the time, even though I’ve been slow as molasses myself.
I love psychology, but I’m not sure clinical counseling is for me.
Let me clarify—I don't think the career choice is for me.
Despite our age difference, I’m not that far ahead of Annie. I’ve been careful not to overextend myself, and I try to help her and Sam with what I’ve learned. She’ll probably graduate before me since she’s more ambitious in her course load and her parents help with expenses.
I take fewer courses at a time so I can work more hours and still be a successful neurotic procrastinator perfectionist.
It’s a real thing. Look it up.
I pick up my phone to lower the music. “Sorry, you probably need it quiet to work.”
“Nah, you’re good. I heard your music and wondered what was up. I’m nosy,” she proudly confesses.
“Poison makes me feel better, and I’m trying to distract myself from Nathan’s drama.” If she’s going to be brutally honest, then so am I.
“Lucy, I love how weird you are about your big-hair dad rock.” She shakes her head at me.
“And I’m dead serious about Danny. Why would you say yes to a guy who’s never there for you and didn’t get you a ring?
Like, what the heck? Danny would pick one up on the way over if he thought you wanted him to. ”
“Annie.” I sigh. “I’ve told you. Nathan wanted to pick out the ring together, but the … situation threw him for a loop. I’ve been trying to give him a chance to fix things. It’s hard. Relationships have challenges.”
I feel like I make this excuse for him way too often, and I’m choosing not to acknowledge the other thing she said.
“Yeah, but challenges are like your car breaking down or someone getting sick. Not the other person treating you like shi—crap. You and Danny handle challenges just fine. Ever notice that? He’s here every day bringing you energy drinks, driving you to work, helping you with homework, and gah, when y’all sing.
The sparks are like freakin’ fireworks. Don’t even get me started on the tension.
Since that night my study group was here and you went to his house …
I know he said you had a hard night at work, but he’s always here when you need him.
” She lectures me with a sad look in her eyes as I stare back with growing mortification.
“Y’all need physical contact like it’s your only source of oxygen, and no offense, but you ain’t no lovebug. It’s painful to watch.”
Is that really how it looks?
“Oh, come on, don’t act so surprised. Me and Jace have been expecting it, but DC never made a move—always an excuse like his job or some other dumb reason.
Like, first he’d just gotten out of a relationship, then he thought it might be creepy because he had keys to our house.
Did you know Danny jumps all over Jace when he picks at you? And y’all fight for fun.”
Well, that’s true. Jace and I argue like most people play board games.
Still. I’m dumbfounded by this whole conversation. I had no idea we were such a hot topic, but I’ve not missed her frequent mention of Jace lately. Notes have been taken.
Jace and I enjoy our verbal sparring. He’s been intense recently, so I haven’t poked the bear, but I’d still throw a rock from a safe distance. Annie, however, is never on his hit list. She can do no wrong.
“Annie, Daniel had a girlfriend when I moved in.”
“You came in August, and that girl was gone long before Halloween,” she counters.
“It was probably more like Labor Day. I don’t remember exactly when the guys started hanging around all the time, but I know for sure he was single on Halloween.
We were all outside, and the guys had their guitars.
We were giving out candy to kids. I know you remember.
” She lowers her voice like she’s trying to conjure a dream sequence.
“They were singing something, and you jumped in. Jace and Sam were all ‘Heck, yeah!’ but DC’s face said he knew exactly what he was doing.
Like he set a trap, and you fell right in.
I don’t remember the song,” she says. But I do.
“Lifehouse. ‘You and Me.’”
No need to remind her we’d become close long before then, but it was a good night.
I pulled an extension cord through the doorway, and Jace plugged in a practice amp for his Gibson.
DC brought that gorgeous Martin acoustic that’s worth more than my car, and when he started singing, I couldn’t resist. The harmony was like a dance our voices already knew.
It was magic.
The tingling rush of that night comes back exactly like she planned, dang it.
She’s good.
“Uh-huh, I knew you were feelin’ it!” Annie insists.
“Geez, everyone felt it. I didn’t even know the song, and I had chills.
It wasn’t the first time you sang with them, but something about just you and DC hit different.
Sis, the look on his face. He had this satisfied little smile like he planned the whole thing.
” She stands and walks to the fridge to get ice for her water bottle.
“He seemed so confident, but then he never pulled the trigger for some reason. I thought for sure after that one night …”
“Okay, well, on that note …” I stand and turn “Fallen Angel” up louder as I head back to my bathroom to touch up the makeup that I rubbed off earlier and grab my wallet.
“Are you ever going to tell me what really happened that night?”
“Nothing to tell!”
“Conflict avoidance, chapter four!” Annie accuses as I walk away.
“Don’t you have a long-lost twin to look for? Go tell it to your butler. There is no conflict here!” I yell back over my shoulder.
“There would be if you opened your freakin’ eyes!”
We yell good-natured smack talk and my standard Annie Parker Parent Trap references back and forth as we retreat in opposite directions, but I turn to face her for one last jab.
“That’s what she said, sweetheart.” I do my best Jace impression, and her glare turns to ice. I blow her a kiss, then squeal as I slip into the bathroom and lock the door.
Because I’m not stupid.
She can take me.
It’s so hot outside any makeup will probably melt right off my face, but I touch up what was rubbed off.
Fluffing my hair up, I do one good ’80s-era Bret Michaels glam-pout in the mirror before I go back to my room and spritz my favorite peach body spray.
Then I dig through my closet to retrieve the envelope with my tip stash from the knockoff Doc Martens boots.
Stepping into black chunky sandals, I shove the phone in my pocket, now blaring a rather spicy track from the Open Up and Say … Ahh! album.
I must not have heard the front door, because when I emerge from my room singing “Tearing Down the Walls”—with gusto—I’m greeted by my duet partner at the end of the hallway watching me as he mouths the words.
I decide to be a punk and stalk toward him, singing slightly naughty lyrics straight to his face.
Okay, very naughty.
The words come back to me as the song plays, but I’d forgotten how suggestive they were.
Oh geez.
I grab my phone to turn off the music, but DC’s not about to let me off the hook that easily.
He raises both well-defined arms to drum the rhythm over the hallway entry, singing every word until he sees my gaze trip over the sexiest sliver of skin to ever exist between the hem of a black T-shirt and a low-slung pair of jeans.
If we were on Sesame Street, the letter of the day would be V.
V for very wrong. Very off-limits. And very, very freaking hot.
His voice falters for a split second, as if affecting me is affecting him.