Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
LEVI
Kami stares at Jake’s screen, mouth wide open, watching Stevie and me onstage.
The video is about three-quarters of the way done, right when I’m about to take my mic out of its stand.
Kami starts slapping my arm excitedly, and I have to grab her for it to stop.
Stevie’s following my movements on the video, and I turn my head away at the intimate looks we’re giving each other.
Stevie’s voice rasps as we get louder. She could sing any genre she wanted to with that beautiful fucking voice.
Kami’s eyebrows rise when the end of the song hits, while Stevie and I look at each other for a long time, not letting the other go. The bar is completely silent before erupting into cheers.
After it stops playing, Kami turns those raised brows and an awed expression at me. I know what’s coming next, not the compliments, but the questions. And we all know why, because I was stupid enough to let the moment take charge.
“It was all a performance, Kami. Don’t give me that look,” I say quickly before she can imply anything.
One brow lowers, while the other remains up. Jake chuckles at my side, and I feel like punching the fucker for showing her the video in the first place.
Kamila puts both hands up. “All right, whatever you say.”
Relaxing my shoulders, we walk down the hall of the liberal arts building.
“You two did look quite comfortable with one another,” Kami blurts out.
“They looked like they wanted to bang,” Jake adds.
I halt, turning to them, and punch Jake’s shoulder hard enough to make him flinch.
“I was trying to help her. You and Em gave us no choice. You guys are reading way too much into this.”
My feet begin to move again till we leave the building, and I can’t help thinking about what I called Stevie that night.
I can’t even repeat the words in my fucking head.
They’re not ones I use lightly. I haven’t said them in years.
They brought back a rush of excitement, especially seeing how Stevie reacted to them, but it makes no sense why she would.
It was an intimate moment between two artists in a performance…
Okay, that’s bullshit, but Stevie isn’t an option for anything other than being a roommate and friend. She’s not only somebody I live with, but also someone I want to help. There’s nothing wrong with finding her attractive, I’m only fucking human. But I can’t act on that attraction.
Either way, I’m usually a relationship kind of guy. Anytime I’ve tried the friends-with-benefits thing, I’ve always, always gotten hurt. Not that my relationships have been any different.
“So, you’re going to help Stevie with a list?” Kami asks from my side.
I nod in response.
She hums. “And you’re sure you’re just friends?”
Running a hand through my hair, annoyed by the same question I’ve been asked by all three of my best friends, I reply, “For the tenth time, yes, I’m sure.”
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” Jake spits out of nowhere.
“What is it?” Kami asks before I can.
Jake stands up straighter. “Whatever you guys do, do not look to your left.”
As if in sync, Kami and I dart glances to our left.
“For fuck’s sake,” Jake whispers.
There aren’t many people walking in the courtyard toward the dining room this time of day, and only one girl is coming toward us.
Trying to get another glance, I take in her features.
She has massive, what I believe to be, blue eyes, long, dark brown hair, slightly tanned skin, and a curvy figure like Kamila, but taller.
“Holy shit, who the hell is that?” Kami whispers. “She’s gorgeous.”
“Agreed.” I do another quick body sweep, because holy shit.
“If I weren’t with Cameron, I’d do her.” By the sound of Kami’s voice, she’s dead serious, and I’m right there with her. Except that I’m not with Cam, and for some reason, Jake doesn’t seem to like her.
“Yeah, don’t get too attached. Her exterior doesn’t match her interior,” Jake mumbles, his entire body rigid.
Kami and I swap a glance that says, Who the fuck is this?
At first, it seems like she’s going to walk right past us, but at the very last moment, she stops a couple of feet away in our direction and hugs another girl much shorter than her. Knowing that Jake is probably going to want to turn around, I brace myself for his cue.
That’s when Kami trips on her heeled boots and tumbles to the ground. My attempt at catching her is useless, and a second later, she’s on all fours, cursing.
“Holy shit!” she yells as her hands hit the concrete.
Jake and I duck immediately, asking Kami if she’s okay.
“I’m fine, guys, just a couple of scrapes.”
We gingerly begin to lift her. Her tote bag is still on the ground, and things are spilling out of it. One look at her knees is all it takes to spot a small amount of blood trickling out.
“Oh my God! Are you okay?”
Swiveling my head downward, I see the woman who Jake was speaking of. She, along with the girl she was hugging, is now kneeling before us with a panicked face, picking up Kami’s belongings.
Kamila assures them that she’s okay, and the woman with the blue eyes—scratch that—gray-blue eyes, stands still, looking down. She puts my friend’s wallet into the bag and hands it to her. Damn, she’s taller than I expected.
“Thank you,” I say, trying to get her attention and save Jake’s ass, but it’s too late.
Once her eyes stop looking at Kami’s bag, she spots him.
At first, surprise flashes across her unique face, quickly masked by fury, turning into indifference.
“Johnathan.” Her gaze is intense and, shit, she looks pissed.
Jake’s jaw tics at the use of his first name, which he despises because it’s the same as his father’s and grandfather’s.
The girl’s lips seem to tilt upward at his small reaction, till Jake speaks.
“Dax.” His voice is pure venom, like nothing I’ve ever heard. And although Jake is this lovable, funny guy to us, it scares the crap out of both Kami and me.
“You know damn well it’s Dakota,” she spits out.
“And you know damn fucking well it’s Jake,” he retorts.
Dakota’s mouth tightens, and Jake smiles slightly. Not his usual cocky one, but pure evil.
What the fuck?
For a couple of seconds, they stare at each other. Neither one of them is backing down, as if they’re in some sort of contest.
Kami, Dakota’s friend, and I exchange glances, not knowing what to do.
“Hey, Dakota, we should head to town. Everyone’s waiting for us.” Her friend gently touches her arm as if she’s going to get burned, and I don’t blame her.
Kami squeezes my hand, clearly nervous and uncomfortable at how Jake looks.
Finally, Dakota smiles, perfect teeth on full display, still staring at my friend.
“Goodbye, Johnathan,” she says sweetly.
They finally turn to walk away as Jake throws over his shoulder, “Bye, Dax.”
Dakota’s friend pulls her arm to keep her walking and waves bye at us, looking at me and Kami apologetically.
After a couple of seconds and a long exhale from Jake, Kami speaks up.
“What the hell was that?”
“Who the hell was that?” I ask.
Jake turns to us. “Someone my parents know.” He points to Kami’s knees. “We should get you back to your dorm and clean you up. Need to make sure these cuts don’t get infected.”
Translation: end of conversation.
We quietly make our way to Astor Hall, Kami and I taking turns glancing at each other, concerned over our best friend.
We’re both thinking the same thing.
It looks as though we found the only other person who can get under Jake’s skin like his father does, and we have no idea who the fuck she is.
After a couple of hours of being in Kami and Em’s dorm, I’m in my car driving to one of my student’s houses for a lesson, and the only thing on my mind is how I can help Stevie with her list. Helping her pick an audition song seems like the safe choice on what to tackle first. Now that I know what her voice sounds like, it’ll be easier to decide on a song.
Brad has enough on his hands helping her with the one they’re cowriting.
The image of Brad brings a twinge of jealousy that I quickly push away and ignore. They’re working together because of me, I have no reason to feel that way.
I shake my head, bringing my thoughts back to her audition that has to be coming up soon. Shit, it’s probably at the end of this month or the beginning of the next.
Instantly, a mile-long list of musicians and albums comes to mind, and I sift through all my favorite bands.
Pop rock and songs from musicals seem to be the way to go.
The ones that’ll bring out what I saw that night and possibly more if she learns to control her nerves.
“Lovely” is a great song, but other songs will give her more space to show her talent.
My phone rings three minutes into my drive, and I smile before answering my family’s weekly check-in.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Hi, sweetheart! You’re on speaker and your grandma is here too,” my mom says excitedly.
My smile only grows. “Hey, Gran.”
“How are your friends? How are classes going? Hopefully nothing lower than a C-plus.” Gran tries to sound intimidating but fails.
“Mom, please, at least tell him to aim for a B-minus,” Mom scoffs. “How’s work and the new roommate?”
Chuckling, I catch them up, leaving certain things unsaid—things they never need to know about.
I’m very close to the two women who raised me after my father left Mom when I was a kid.
We rarely talk about him, but I know more than she believes I do.
I woke up at nine years old one Sunday morning only to find him gone.
Mom was crying on the phone in the dining room, letting Gran know we had to move in with her due to the lack of money.
At that age, I wondered why he never bothered to say goodbye.
Then I turned seventeen and got my answer. He got a new fucking family.
“Well, it sounds like everything is going well, honey,” Mom says happily.
“I hope you’re partying as much as you are working and studying. Take advantage of your age, boy.” Gran chuckles, and I can practically hear Mom’s eyes rolling.
“I’m having my fun too, Gran, don’t worry. I went to karaoke this past weekend.” I check the GPS, which is announcing that my exit is coming up.
My mom gasps in excitement. “Please tell me you sang.”
“I did.” I hesitate whether to tell her with whom. “I sang a duet with Stevie.”
“That’s so exciting! Please tell me you have a video.”
Gran does me a solid and interrupts, saving me from having to lie about having one. She warns me not to sleep with Stevie. That causes a small argument between Mom and her about how inappropriate it was even to suggest that I would.
Little do they know the passing thoughts I’m ignoring.
I cut their fighting short since I’m five minutes away from my student’s house.
“Okay, sweetie. Before we let you go, do you know the next time you’re visiting?”
My stomach drops at the question, and then the long-awaited guilt comes.
I barely visit Binghamton, and when I do, it’s not for long.
There are several reasons why I have an apartment off campus.
One of the many is that I don’t have to spend every vacation back home in the gray, depressing town where I grew up.
As much as I love my family, I hate that place. There’s only one person I can stand other than them: my ex-girlfriend, who lives near the auto shop I work in whenever I can. And there’s only one place I enjoy going to: the indie music store Mom manages.
Other than my ex, my family, and that store, I hate everyone I run into and every other place there.
I hate how it always looks gloomy, how there’s nothing to do, and I despise the fact that no matter where I go, when I end up back home in that small house, the first boy ever to break my heart, who now has a wife, lives only ten blocks away.
The gang knows this, but we only spoke about it once and never again.
“I have to see how my student roster is during spring break, but I’ll probably be able to swing by for a night or two.”
The line is silent for a moment. “Okay, sweetheart. I hope we can see you soon, then.”
Guilt hits me again. I’ll do it for her once before the summer. I’ll do it for them.
“I love you guys.”
After hanging up, I park in the driveway and open my trunk, grabbing my electric guitar and amp. Struggling to ring the doorbell, my student opens the door before I can.
“Hi, Levi!”
“Hey, little dude. Ready to rock and roll?”