5. Raleigh
Raleigh
5
13 YEARS OLD
The cool Michigan air rushes through the kitchen window, blowing my homework across the table as I frantically scramble after it. “No, no, no,” I panic, throwing myself from the old barstool behind the small island table.
Mom laughs, wiping her flour-covered hands on her apron before hurrying across the kitchen and warring with the old window as it gets jammed. This house is falling apart, but it’s ours, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Well, kinda. If someone offered me a McMansion in Beverly Hills, living it up like royalty, I’m not going to say no, but this is home.
My papers continue flying across the room, and just as I pin one under my foot, Mom finally wins the battle and unjams the window, pulling it down into place. “My goodness,” she laughs, pressing her hand to her chest when something catches her attention outside. Her brows furrow. “Oh, looks like Axel’s bringing home strays again.”
“Huh?”
I cross the kitchen and step into Mom’s side before peering out the window to see Axel striding down the footpath with a dark-haired boy beside him, but he doesn’t seem boyish in the same way Axel does. He seems like . . . more.
My gaze narrows, he’s too far to really make out the features of his face, but there’s something there, something alluring that demands every bit of my attention.
His hair is floppy, almost covering his eyes, and the black sleeveless tank that shows off defined arms has something clenching in my stomach. He’s kinda gorgeous. But add that guitar slung over his shoulder and suddenly there’s not a single thought inside my head.
Axel is sixteen and thinks he’s going to be a big deal, and I love that for him. You know, I think it’s great he’s so happy to live in delusion. On the other hand, I’m hoping to make it to the big leagues. Any of the big colleges would do, I’m not picky, but that’s about where my plan stops. I have no idea what I want to do with my life, but I know I want to make it count.
I want to help people. I want to do good; I just don’t know how.
I watch Axel and his new friend as they reach the top of our driveway and make their way toward the front door, and with every step they take, my heart races just a little bit faster.
What the hell is this?
“Did you want to stop drooling before they come through the door?” Mom teases. “Or should I let you keep gaping out the window like a love-sick puppy?”
My eyes widen in horror, realizing way too late just how obvious I’m being. “I’m not—I don’t . . .”
Mom laughs at my display but when the door opens and Axel and his new friend stride into the kitchen, every last stuttered word falls away.
His gaze quickly sweeps the kitchen, taking in his new surroundings, and the moment those dark, exotic eyes land on mine, I’m ruined.
I suck in a breath as the strangest booming takes over my chest. I’ve never felt anything like it. My pulse starts to race, and my hands become sweaty, and all I can do is stand here and stare back at him.
My god. He’s beautiful.
“Yo, Mom,” Axel says, pausing in the entrance of the kitchen. “We’re starting a band together. We’re gonna clear out the garage for practice space.”
Axel turns on his heel, already stalking toward the internal garage door when Mom calls out behind him. “Get your ass back here Axel Stone,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest as my gaze greedily sails over the gorgeous, tanned stranger in my kitchen. He’s so tall. I always thought Axel was tall, but this guy has got to have at least three inches on Ax.
Axel groans and turns back, giving Mom a blank stare. “Yes?”
“Were you going to introduce us to your new friend, or were you planning on waltzing perfect strangers right through the door?”
Axel glances at his friend as if only just realizing where he went wrong. “Oh. He’s the new guy. Just started at school today. Said he liked to play guitar so figured we’d hang out.”
“Okay,” Mom says slowly. “And does the new guy have a name?”
New Guy laughs to himself before stepping forward and holding his hand out to my mother. “Ezra,” he says as Mom takes his hand and gently shakes it. “Ezra Knight. It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am. I hope it’s not a bother that we play in the garage. We can find somewhere else if you’d prefer.”
“Not at all,” Mom says. “Are you hungry? Rae and I were just about to bake chocolate chip cookies.”
Ezra’s gaze shifts back to mine, a deep curiosity in his eyes. “Sure,” he says slowly before turning his head toward Axel without taking his stare off mine. “Uhhhh, dude. Your sister is staring at me.”
My brother scoffs. “Yeah, she does that. You’ll get used to it,” he says. “She’s trying to work out if you’re going to be worth her time or if she’s going to make it a living hell for you every time you walk through the door.”
Ezra arches a brow, and while Axel would usually be right, this one time, I’m not thinking a damn thing. I can’t. It’s as though nothing exists but the halo that seems to surround Ezra Knight.
“Rae, is it?”
“Raleigh,” I manage to croak out, not sure why my hands seem to be shaking so much.
“What’s it going to be, Raleigh?” he asks as a smirk lifts the corner of his lips, showing off a row of perfectly straight teeth. “You gonna make my life hell, or what? Because I think it’d be more fun to be friends, especially considering your mom is cool enough to let me play guitar in your garage.”
I cross my arms over my chest, immediately deciding I like this new boy, and not wanting to chase him off just yet. “Okay, I’ll give you a trial run,” I tell him, wishing my voice didn’t sound so shaky. “I’ll play nice, but if you two sound like a bunch of screeching cats in that garage, the deal is off. There’s only so much I’ll tolerate.”
Ezra extends his hand toward me. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Raleigh Stone.”
My gaze falls to his outstretched hand and a wave of panic sweeps through me. There’s no way in hell I can shake his hand while mine are clammy with nervous sweat. So instead, I keep my arms crossed and fix my perfect bratty-sister expression across my face. “I’m not shaking that hand,” I tell him. “Who knows where that’s been. Besides, this deal is not official until after I’m sure you don’t sound like a dying cat.”
“It was a screeching cat,” he confirms as his eyes sparkle with silent laughter that has my knees threatening to buckle beneath me.
Holy cow.
Am I in love? Is this what it feels like? I’ve had more than my fair share of stupid boy crushes, but it’s never felt like this, so strong and instantaneous. It’s as though a piece of me already belongs to him, but that’s insane, right? He’s Axel’s friend, and I only just met him. He’s probably sixteen. Maybe seventeen, and I’m just some stupid kid.
“Alright, go on,” Mom says, ushering the boys out of her kitchen. “Go convert the garage into a band space, but if you break any of my things, you’ll have me to deal with. Understood?”
“Yes, Mom,” Axel says, turning away and stalking back to the garage door.
Erza follows him, but just before he disappears out of sight, he glances back over his shoulder, his gaze colliding with mine like a sonic boom, and just like that, I know my life will never be the same.
“What the hell was that?” Mom asks once the boys are locked away in the garage. She moves around the kitchen, plucking my sheet of homework off the ground and fixing it on the island table.
“What was what?” I throw back at her, feigning disinterest.
“You can’t fool me, Raleigh Stone. I was a thirteen-year-old girl once,” she reminds me. “And that . . . Well, let’s just put it out there that Ezra Knight is way too old for you. I always knew there’d come a day when you’d start crushing on your brother’s friends, but I’d hoped that wouldn’t happen until you were at least eighteen. Just know, that one right there, the one with the floppy dark hair and charming words, he’s trouble.”
A stupid grin cuts across my face, and within seconds, I’m beaming from ear to ear, unable to even attempt to hide the overwhelming rush of emotions coursing through my veins. “You saw that smile, right?” I ask. “And the arms?”
“Oh, hush,” she laughs, rolling her eyes as she settles back in front of the cookie batter. “You have homework to do. There will be plenty of time to dream about silly boys when you’re older, but for now, you need to focus on geography.”
I groan and roll my eyes before settling back at the kitchen island, but the knowledge of having the most gorgeous dark-haired boy currently moving old furniture around in my garage makes it almost impossible to concentrate.
For every word I manage to scrawl on my homework sheet, there are two loud thumps coming from the garage, and after thirty minutes of forcing myself to focus, the loud thumps morph into guitar riffs.
“Oh,” Mom says, arching her brows as she slides the cookies into the oven. “They’re not bad.”
I won’t lie, she’s right. The boys sound good together. I can immediately tell the difference between Axel’s and Ezra’s playing. I’ve been forced to listen to enough hours of Axel practicing to recognize his style on the guitar. He plays sharp and to the point like he’s reading sheet music and refuses to mess it up. He’s incredible, but Ezra’s style seems more relaxed. Wild and reckless somehow. It’s as though the sheet music just flew out the window, and he’s putting his own spin on it. It’s hypnotic, and while they each sound amazing on their own, together it’s mesmerizing.
God, what I wouldn’t give to go peek into the garage and get just a little glimpse of Ezra working that guitar.
My homework is quickly replaced by endless minutes of daydreaming about dark-haired boys wearing muscle tanks and hypnotizing smirks, wondering just what it’d feel like to be the object of their attention.
The front door opens, and the sound of Dad’s clattering keys pulls me from my daydream. “Why does my garage look like a scene out of a teen movie?” Dad asks, striding into the kitchen and placing a hand on Mom’s lower back, making her stiffen. He leans in and drops a swift kiss to her lips before hastily pulling away.
Mom laughs, but there’s an odd strain to her tone. “Axel’s serious about this whole wanting to be a rockstar thing,” she explains. “He met a new friend at school, and the two of them wanted to turn the garage into a practice space.”
“And I suppose I should just start parking on the curb? How about across the lawn? Hell, maybe I could just drive straight through the front window and park in the dining room instead.”
Mom smirks as she drops her gaze to the table, keeping her hands busy. “Oh, relax. I’ll tell the boys to pack it up just before dinner and then you can reclaim the garage. Besides, we’ve been talking about cleaning out the garage for months, and now the boys have done it for us. It’s a win, Michael. You’ve gotta take them as they come.”
Dad groans and leans back against the kitchen counter, crossing his foot over the other before swiftly glancing toward the oven. “Your cookies are burning.”
“What?” Mom’s eyes widen in horror. Her pottery is her career, but baking is her passion. She darts around Dad, scooping the oven mitts off the bench and flying toward the oven. She pulls them out, and as always, her cookies are absolutely mouthwatering perfection.
She glares at my father, and all he can do is laugh as he traipses past me, all but ignoring me here before taking off to do whatever it is that fathers like to do with their evenings.
Mom leaves the cookies to cool, and I can’t help but steal one as I finish off what’s left of my homework. Just as I start packing my books back into my school bag, Mom comes to me with a plate piled high with chocolate chip cookies. “Here,” she says. “You should take these in for the boys. They’ve been practicing non-stop. They need a moment of silence for their brains to stop shaking inside their skulls.”
A wave of nervousness comes over me, but I can’t help but jump at the opportunity. After grabbing the plate of cookies, I hurry to the garage door and find myself hovering, my hands shaking at just the thought of walking in there and seeing Ezra again.
That’s ridiculous, right? I only just met the guy, not to mention, our interaction lasted less than two minutes. I shouldn’t be so infatuated with him like this, but I can’t help it. I suppose I really can’t be blamed. It’s human nature.
Gathering what little courage I have, I open the door and stride into the garage with my head held high. The boys are in the middle of a set, and as they play, Ezra looks up and smiles at me, knocking the breath right out of my lungs.
Okay, I thought he was hot before, but seeing him play . . . Woah. Someone pinch me.
My heart races in my chest and suddenly my mouth is crazy dry.
My hands shake, and I do what I can to seem cool, but it’s a well-known fact that little sisters of big brothers are never perceived as cool. We’re traditionally known for being brats. At least that’s the stereotype. Personally, I like to think that I’m the coolest little sister any brother could want. Axel has always been great to me. We’re close for siblings. At least, I consider us to be compared to how my friends are with their older siblings. Their brothers never seem to have time for them, but Axel always makes sure to give me the time of day, even when it’s clear he thinks I’m being annoying.
He never yells at me, never tells me to get lost, and sometimes, he even values my opinion. None of my friends can say their brothers are like that.
Putting the plate down on a stool, the boys wrap up whatever it is they were working on, and before I can even form a sentence, they’re already shoveling the cookies down their throats. “Shit. These are good,” Ezra says, glancing at me. “You make these?”
I shake my head. “I wish I were that good at baking,” I murmur. “This is all Mom.”
“Jesus,” he says, putting his guitar down and collapsing onto a chair. “You guys don’t know how good you’ve got it. My mom would have flipped out if I came home and told her I was going to convert the garage into a practice space, and she sure as hell wouldn’t have made us cookies.”
“Yeah,” Axel laughs. “Mom’s pretty cool.”
Ezra nods and turns his attention to me. “So, what’s it gonna be?” he asks, a teasing smile lighting up his face and making everything crumble inside of me. “Are we as terrible as you were hoping we’d be?”
I can’t keep the smirk off my face. “It’s worse,” I joke. “I don’t know how your hearing is, maybe it’s all frazzled by the constant ringing from your guitar, but from in the kitchen, it definitely sounded like some kind of massacre was happening in here.”
He doesn’t take his stare off mine, and every passing second with his full attention has something solidifying between us, yet I have no idea what it is. There’s something here, something that simply can’t be denied. A bond? A friendship? It’s too soon to say.
“You’re lying,” he says. “We fucking rock.”
“Okay, whatever,” I admit, rolling my eyes as I make my way back to the door, despite how desperately I want to stay right here and watch him play for the rest of my life. “You might be alright.”
Ezra laughs. “Alright enough to make it to the top?”
I pause by the door. “Maybe, but you’re going to need a kickass manager,” I tell them, holding up a finger at Axel before he has a chance to cut me off. “And before you even attempt to tell me no, it’s too late. The spot has been filled. It’s official.”
“Deal,” Ezra says with a cheesy grin as Axel rolls his eyes.
I go to reach for the door when he calls out again. “Wait. Do you know how to hold a beat?”
I whip around to face him, my face twisted with concern. A beat is certainly not something I am capable of holding. “Uhhhhh . . . No.”
“Come on,” he says, getting up from the chair and carrying it into the center of the practice space. He puts it down before grabbing an old tub and flipping it upside down. “Don’t worry, it’s not hard. I’ll teach you.”
“I’m really not good with music.”
“Yeah, she’s really not,” Axel agrees.
“Well, until we can find a drummer, she’s all we’ve got,” Ezra says, waving me over. “Plus, you know if we had a backing beat, it’d be easier to stay in sync.”
Axel scoffs, his lips quirking with a cheesy grin. “Maybe for you.”
Ezra gapes at him, and I roll my eyes, more than used to my brother’s stupid humor. “Okay, fine. Teach me what I have to do,” I say, striding toward him and sitting down in front of the makeshift drum, dreading whatever’s about to happen. Axel has tried to teach me before, but after realizing I had no hope, he quickly gave up. But the only difference here is that I’m more than happy to fail in front of my brother. As for Ezra, I want to be good.
“Okay. We’re gonna start with a count of four,” Ezra says, crouching down beside me as he lays both of his hands on top of the tub. “With your right hand, just tap. One. Two. Three. Four.”
He demonstrates, and as he starts a second count of four, I join in.
“Good,” he says. “Now, keeping the same tempo, we’re going to go double time. So, for every count, you tap twice.”
He demonstrates again, still keeping the same slow count, but tapping his hand a little faster. “One, and two, and three, and four.”
Eight taps. Four counts. I can manage this.
I try it with him, tapping my right hand on the drum. “One, and two, and three, and four. And—”
“Good. Now, your left hand,” he says, not stopping the rhythm on the drum. “Every time I say two and four, you tap your left hand.”
My eyes widen, and I watch as he shows me. Continuing with his right hand and then adding the left on the even counts. “One and two, and three, and four. One and two, and—”
“Huh. Okay.”
Adding my left hand to the drum, I count inside my head, trying to perfect the rhythm and after only a second, I quickly master it. “Yes!” Ezra calls, standing back up. “That’s it. Just like that. Keep going.”
A stupid beaming grin stretches across my face as I hold a beat for the first time in my life, and without even a moment of hesitation, the boys reach for their guitars, hooking the straps over their shoulders. They meet each other’s stares across the practice space and without saying a damn word, they pick up where they left off, somehow sounding even better.
My hands tap the drum like I’m a warrior princess and with every strum of Ezra’s skilled fingers across the strings, I realize that I don’t ever want this to end. If this could be my life, I would die a happy woman. To have his attention would be everything. He smiles at me as he plays, and I almost lose my beat, and judging by the smirk that cuts across his face, he knows.
Ezra Knight is more than aware of the effect he’s having on me, and maybe I’m crazy. Maybe I’m just as delusional as Axel’s dreams of being a rockstar, but I think there might just be something here. Maybe he feels just a fraction of what I’m feeling.
That’s crazy, though. He couldn’t possibly feel any sort of way toward me. I’m just some dumb kid.
The boys wrap up the song, and as I stop tapping my makeshift drum, Axel grins at Ezra. “We’re good, man,” he says. “Like really fucking good.”
Ezra nods as though something has just occurred to him, something I can’t quite figure out.
“We need a full band,” Ezra says. “Drummer and bassist.”
“And a singer,” I add, trying to be helpful.
A sheepish grin pulls at the corners of Ezra’s lips. “Well, I uhhh . . . I kinda sing.”
“No shit,” Axel says, his brow arching with curiosity. “Well, go on then. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Ezra glances toward me as I wait on bated breath, and there’s no denying the flash of nervousness in his eyes. I can’t blame him, the thought of standing in front of my class and having to deliver a speech sends me into a blind panic. I can only imagine that singing in front of people you’ve only just met might feel something like that.
I give him a small nod of encouragement, and he indicates to my makeshift drum, silently asking me to pick up the beat again, and I do just that. “Little slower,” he asks.
I slow my pace and keep my eyes on him until he nods, letting me know I’ve got it right, and with that, he grips his guitar and slowly strums it. A moment passes as he plays the intro into the song, and the second the first few words sail out of his mouth, my hands pause on the drums, unable to continue.
I quickly recognize the song as “Never Tear Us Apart” by INXS, and as my chest rises and falls with heavy breaths, listening as his deep, raspy tone fills the garage, I become intoxicated by everything that he is. There’s no longer a single doubt in my mind that with Ezra by Axel’s side, their dream of dominating the world with their music isn’t as out of reach as I thought.
Everything they want is right there for the taking.
Axel is just as mesmerized, and when Ezra sings the final notes of the song, he starts to clap. “Holy fuck,” Axel breathes, shaking his head in disbelief. “That was fucking amazing.”
“Yeah?” Ezra asks before glancing at me, but all I can do is stare at him with my mouth hanging open.
“No question about it, you’re our front man,” Axel says, still shaking his head. He grips the back of his neck. “Fuck me. That was . . . shit. Okay, so it’s settled. You’re lead singer and guitar. I’ll be lead guitar and backup vocals. Rae wants to be manager, and so we just need a drummer and a bassist.”
Their conversation pulls me out of my head, and I snap into action. “Ummm, Maxton Huxley at school has an older brother who plays the drums. I think his name is Rock, but he goes to the private school just outside of town.”
“Yeah, alright,” Axel says. “Have you got Maxton’s number?”
I shrug my shoulders. “No, but I can get it.”
“Okay, do that. As for a bass guy, I think I know someone. Dylan Pope. He’s the grade under us, a bit quiet, but I think he’s good.”
“So, it’s settled?” Ezra questions. “We’re doing this?”
A wide grin stretches across Axel’s face. “We’re fucking doing this.”