Chapter 8
UNMARKED GRAVE
JESSE
Telomeres by Sleep Token
Joey slips out of the barn, her yellow sundress catching the breeze and skimming the tops of her thighs with every step. The tear at the hem makes me smile.
I watch her cross the yard until the screen door closes behind her and the space where she stood goes empty.
The sunflowers along the pasture fence have turned toward the afternoon light, and the scent of them carries something I can’t shake—her.
This place has always smelled like her. Hay and peppermint and the particular warmth of California soil after the sun has been on it all day.
I’ve been memorizing it since I was fifteen and pretending I haven’t.
Dylan walks beside me through the yard, one hand running through his already-messy hair while the other balances a champagne flute.
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, eyebrows shooting toward his hairline. “Please tell me you weren’t doing what I think you were doing.”
“You’re using the Dad voice again,” I tease but he just glares at me. “Talking,” I answer. The word hangs between us. “We were just talking.”
“Right.” His eyes narrow with exaggerated suspicion. “And I’m secretly training to become an Olympic figure skater.”
I roll my eyes.
He steers me toward a quieter corner of the yard and smacks the side of my head. “Alone with her in barns now? What exactly runs through your mind when you make these decisions?”
The question strikes with precision. I probably did deserve a smack in the head but I wasn’t going to admit it. “She’s my friend. There’s nothing criminal about having a conversation.”
Dylan leans closer, voice dropping to a murmur. “A friend who has no idea the stranger she kissed last week was you. And instead of keeping your distance, you’re what, getting cozy in barns with her?”
A burning sensation crawls up my neck, spreading across my cheeks. “It’s not like that.”
But it was. I’d watched her quietly leave the party and slip into the barn.
Like the idiot I was, I had to follow her.
As much as I tried to do the right thing, the one thing I couldn’t do was leave Joey Morgan alone.
Not when I knew how soft her lips felt, how her tongue tasted, or how her body felt pressed against mine.
“Then illuminate me, because from my perspective, you’re dancing through a minefield barefoot and whistling.”
“That’s a little dramatic.” Part of my brain acknowledges the wisdom in his words. Another part simultaneously composes lyrics about dangerous decisions.
“It’s not like I was expecting a confession,” I say honestly, because that was a surprise. To hear her describe what it was like kissing a stranger, kissing me. I felt like an asshole betraying her trust like that but a part of me leaned on every word. “I just…”
“What?”
“I wanted to remember what it was like before things got messy,” I admit. “To be in the same room with her and not feel like I was one step away from ruining something good.”
“Be with her, don’t be with her. I don’t give a shit, but….” Dylan sighs, placing a hand on my shoulder. “This is Joey we’re talking about. When this explodes, not if but when, the blast radius extends beyond the two of you.”
“Nothing will explode.”
Dylan shakes his head. “Walk me through your best-case scenario here. She figures out it’s you, and falls madly in love?”
I shrug, and Dylan laughs darkly.
“I’m betting on her being pissed because you manipulated her, and she’s gonna come to me looking for help to bury the body.”
Fuck me. He’s right.
“I didn’t plan this, it just happened. She stumbled backstage right into me and I…” I try to explain what felt like fate without sounding crazy, but that’s what it was. “The mask, it’s like I can finally have everything I want without the risk.”
“You know that’s not how reality works, right?”
My phone vibrates against my thigh and I pull it out. Our band group text was blowing up.
Luke: Stop fucking talking about my sister’s tits Tommy
Tommy: I don’t know what you’re referring to
Luke: I know you’re bigdickdrummer
Tommy: Well thank you, at least someone acknowledges my prowess
Luke: Not what I meant asshole! Why can’t you just be normal?
Stella: Rehearsal tomorrow afternoon.
Jesse: I’ll be there
“What was that?” Dylan motions to my phone before I pocket it.
“Luke being a drama queen over Tommy posting on that thread,” I say rolling my eyes.
“I told him to stop! Jesus, if I didn’t know any better I’d think the two of you were actively trying to expose your identities,” Dylan rages. “And why do you look so calm about this?” He throws a hand in my direction.
“I just stopped fighting the Tommy current. It is what it is,” I tell him.
“Well, unfortunately I don’t have the luxury of sticking my head in the sand.” He furiously types on his phone and then turns back to me.
“Don’t you think you need to address the Joey situation with the band?” he asks.
“There’s no situation.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “You broke every protocol we established. No lingering after shows. No private conversations with fans backstage.” His voice drops lower. “And definitely no kissing girls you’ve been in love with your whole life.”
“What are your intentions with her anyway?” Dylan asks.
“You sound like her father,” I scoff.
“If I was her father you’d be buried in an unmarked grave on this property already.”
Defensive heat rises in my chest but he’s not wrong. “I don’t know.” I walk away from him, pacing along the fence.
“Well figure it the fuck out,” Dylan says, standing in my way. “Because it’s not just about you… think about the others before you let this thing explode.”
I say what he needs to hear, not what I believe. “The band needs me focused. I know. I get it.”
“You’re not going to listen to anything I just said, are you?” Dylan calls me out. “And you recognize this qualifies as certifiably batshit crazy?”
“Probably.”
Dylan punches my shoulder lightly. “Try not to crash and burn too hard, okay?” As he walks away I hear him mumble, “Fucking rockstars are trying to kill me.”