27. SEVEN YEARS AGO
TWENTY-SEVEN
SEVEN YEARS AGO
EARLY WINTER, SENIOR YEAR
PAIGE
“What’s up, punk?” Climbing into Ellis’s car, I shoved my bag into the backseat as Flyleaf blasted through his speakers. My eyebrows lifted. “Ooo. Are we having some feelings tonight?” I said loudly over the music and he turned it down.
“Sorry,” he mumbled with a half-hearted chuckle.
As I clipped in my seatbelt, I asked, “Everything okay?” My words dragged with caution.
He didn’t respond as he peeked behind us, backing the car out of the driveway and then slowly driving down my small road.
By the time we got to the stop sign, I could hear him thinking. Chomping on his gum.
“Dude, you sound like a yeti chewing tinfoil. What’s up?”
“Nice,” he snorted, then sighed. “It’s nothing. Just got into it with Desmond.”
My mouth sloped at the corner, but I stayed quiet. Waiting.
Ellis was picking me up for what had become my regular gig at Queenie’s. I didn’t end up getting the part in American Idiot. But two weeks ago, Queenie’s off-season band went on a permanent hiatus —our suspicions are of the Fleetwood Mac variety— but she let me step in, and her husband, Jack, played guitar for me.
Performing there was different from what I was used to. The setting was smaller, I could see everyone, and I wasn’t playing a part. It was just . . . me and Jack.
My nerves started to find my limbs again, my knee bouncing, but Ellis’s sigh brought me back to now before he said, “I guess one of my dad’s old business partners is suing him. A company he’s not even a part of anymore.”
Shit. That sucks.
My throat worked to swallow. I didn’t really know what to say, but something told me he just needed to vent. So, I stayed quiet.
He shrugged. “They settled it out of court this afternoon.”
Oh. My eyebrows hitched, but then furrowed when I saw his jaw tick, his grip on the steering wheel tighten. “That’s good, right?” I asked.
It sounded like the problem was solved, but I knew that couldn’t be the case because only a second later, Ellis scoffed. “Every fucking time,” he muttered quietly, then spoke up a bit. “He told me he was gonna fight this one. Actually take this asshole to court. But he didn’t. He spent an asinine amount of money to keep it private and it just . . .”
My eyes squinted. I didn’t understand. For lack of anything better to say, I asked, “Why are they suing him?”
Ellis chuckled, but there wasn’t any humor to it. “Great question. And since he didn’t actually go through the system there’s no record—” He stopped himself shaking his head. “Sorry.”
I put my hand on his knee. “Hey, don’t be sorry. We can pull over at a vista point and beat our chests—yell into a canyon. Tony Robbins this shit out.”
He snorted. “No, definitely not.” The small hint of a smile he had, dropped. After a second, he ran his teeth over his bottom lip, then said, “It’s not like I think he’s guilty of anything. It just makes him look guilty when he handles shit this way. I get that he doesn’t want the publicity but . . .” he trailed off.
I squeezed his knee. “I get it. That makes sense.”
And it really did. I’m sure he did believe in Desmond’s innocence. But they were all each other had. Like me and Gram. And Gram and I made most of our big decisions together. They usually involved what home appliance we could live without.
Ellis shook his head. “He just . . . he’ll always be a target. And I feel like it would at least scare some people off if he publicly —just once— tore an accusation to shreds.”
“Aw, buddy, I’m sorry.” I rested my head on his shoulder, and he leaned his temple against mine, still driving us leisurely.
He blew out a breath. “Ugh. No, I’m sorry. Let’s change the subject.” He cleared his throat, his eyes flicking to me before going back to the road. “I, for one, cannot fucking wait to watch Linc go all alpha male when he sees that little get-up.”
My eyes drifted down to my outfit. I had taken some old fishnets and cut the crotch, wearing it over my head so the net material stretched down my arms under a metallic purple tank top I was wearing. I rounded out the outfit with some ripped, black skinny jeans and my combat boots.
Gram also glitter-bombed my hair. A fact I think Ellis was too preoccupied to notice, or he may have not let me get in the car.
I breathed a laugh, rolling my eyes. Before I had time to really think about it too much, Ellis asked, “What’s on the set list tonight? If there isn’t any Avril Lavigne, can there be some Avril Lavigne?”
I snorted a laugh. “I’ll have to see if Jack knows any. But ‘You Oughta Know’ is on my list.”
“Oh, fuck yeah. Alanis Morissette. A whole mood,” he said, as we pulled into the parking lot. After he grabbed a spot near the back, I unbuckled my seatbelt, then saw him reaching into his pocket, “I’m gonna burn one real quick,” he said, pulling a joint out, and I smirked.
“Hot boxing? How millennial of you,” I teased. But I grabbed my bag from the back and flicked my eyes back over at him. His stare looked distracted, staring off for a second and I finally said, “Sure you’re okay, Batman?”
He chuckled, but nodded and then looked over at me. “Totally. This’ll just give me the final shove into rock-out mode. I plan on moshing.”
I rolled my eyes. Jesus. “Queenie’s gonna kick your ass out,” I muttered, finally pushing the door open.
“You underestimate my charm,” he called out as I closed the door and laughed again.
I was in the back room, warming up—I think Queenie was trying to make this a green room, but real estate was expensive here, so it was about the size of a walk-in closet, with a single arm chair and a mini-fridge.
I took a sip of water just as I heard the door open and Linc slipped in.
My smile pulled. I knew he was working tonight—he’d made it a point to work Tuesdays after I got the singing gig.
“Goddamn, Pip, you look . . .”
My heart stuttered and a timid smile shook my lips.
Ellis’s claim earlier sounded through my mind as Linc’s hazel eyes seared into me. Alpha male, indeed.
“. . . Like you’ve got stars in your hair.” His lips tilted as his eyes lingered on my wild curls, tracing them like constellations before his gaze fell back to my face. The deep desire in his eyes lifted my chest. My confidence.
I grinned. “Fitting for the moon, huh?”
The way his eyes drifted from my hair to lips nearly knocked the wind out of me.
I had only recently started dressing up a little. Well, my version of dressing up, anyway, and it still felt a little awkward.
But the response I got from him was so damn good, I think I was unofficially trying to up my game each time—see if I could get his jaw to actually drop —cartoon style.
In general, nothing quite curled my toes like the way he watched me. Knowing his eyes were on me. The fact that he had such a natural artistic eye, and I seemed to be one of his favorite subjects, was a kick to the clit I didn’t quite expect.
“There’s a lot of guys out there tonight, ya know,” he said, inching closer to me, in the already small room.
But I welcomed his closeness. It’d been a week since we’d been alone —and he was just about to go up my shirt when Maisie knocked on the door.
He hooked his arm around my back, pulling me into him, reminding me that he’d made . . . an observation.
I cleared my throat. “Guys, huh? Interesting, seeing as I sing a lot of moody girl bangers.”
His nose brushed against mine, and I shivered at the contact as he chuckled softly. “Something tells me you could sing a full set of Wiggles music and they still wouldn’t blink through the whole thing.” He kissed me lightly, teasingly, but pulled away, and I whined.
He chuckled, brushing some hair off my face. “Queenie asked me to give you your half-hour warning,” he said, still holding me to him.
“Did Ellis come in?” I asked.
Linc nodded. “Yeah—fucking blazed,” he chuckled. “And he ordered like, the rest of the pastry case—so we have that to look forward to when the high rolls off.”
I breathed a small laugh, but my mouth tilted downward. “I feel bad. He seemed upset on the way here. I guess him and Desmond had some sort of fight.”
He pushed some of my hair over my shoulder and sighed. “I thought I heard some tense talk when I was leaving after our workout earlier. But I wouldn’t worry about it. Happens all the time.”
My eyebrows pinched. I didn’t know that. In fact, Ellis rarely talked to me about Desmond. Maybe Linc just saw more since he made his way over to the estate more often than I did. Ellis preferred to come to my house. See Gram.
A soft brush of Linc’s thumb over my lips hitched my breath, and I blinked up at him. His eyes scanned me again, and a playful glint turned his eyes slightly more green.
Another silent beat passed as a reminding tilt to his brows angled down at me. Confusion filled my eyes for just a second before I finally caught on, and smirked.
When Queenie offered me the opportunity to sing on Tuesdays, I immediately said yes. But in the week that followed, I had almost talked myself out of it multiple times.
“The bar setting—live band thing. I’m not used to just standing up there—not unless it’s a recital or something. And that’s different.”
We had been lying on my bed, “doing homework.” But homework had come in the way of roaming fingers, stolen kisses—confessions.
His fingers had been making steady little designs on the small of my back—on the sliver of skin between the waistline of my jeans and my tank top—but he stopped and pulled me into him.
“What’s to say you can’t pretend you’re just playing a part at Queenie’s,” he smirked. “The hot local singer—catching the eye of the bus boy.”
I giggled, pressing my forehead to his. “Ooo. I like it. She has a troubled past—sees the bus boy on his smoke break by the dumpster as she leaves.”
“He’d been watching her all night,” he said against my mouth as I giggled more.
Linc’s lips zapped me back to the present when he suddenly pressed them to the soft spot just below my ear and I gasped. Then he kissed again, just a little lower, and my mouth ticked up. He was kissing down my freckles. A part of my body I’d only ever seen through his camera lens.
An aroused chuckle tickled the bottom of my earlobe and a shiver ran through me. “I’d better go,” he said quietly, gravelly—like he definitely didn’t want to go.
I didn’t want him to either. But it was probably for the best. We didn’t need to get caught making out in the make-shift green room.
Still, another thrill ran through me—remembering our game, remembering he’d be watching me, and I smiled. “Gotta give my bus boy a show, right?”
“ Mmf ,” he grunted, taking my lips. His tongue just barely breached the seam of my mouth and I whimpered.
God, I was a needy mess for him. It was kind of crazy, especially because we hadn’t even made it to a proper second base yet. He had me hot and fucking bothered with just his mouth.
I felt him smile against my lips before he reluctantly pulled away, taking a single step back to the door—physically putting distance between us before he said, “I’ll see ya out there,” and left.
LINC
After beelining to the bathroom to tuck my boner away as best I could, I walked out to see Ellis cutting the muffin tops off a carrot muffin and a lemon poppyseed, coating the undersides in jelly, slapping them together, and eating them.
My eyes flinched as I got closer. It was all pretty gross. I grabbed a water from the cooler and put it on the table. “Hey, man. Why don’t I make you an americano?”
“The Oscar statue —the Academy Award— is naked,” he said, looking at something on his phone, then up at me.
My eyes squinted. Ugh . I was not prepared to deal with a blitzed-out-of-his-skull Ellis. Not while I was at work. Not when Paige was performing.
With nothing else to say, I shrugged. “Yeah, man. They are. Americano?”
“So maybe, it’s not Oscar buzz, but Oscar butts!” He barked out a laugh, cracking himself up.
I laughed too. Okaaay. “I’m gonna go make you an americano,” I made the decision for him.
“Cool,” he said with another bite of his . . . muffin-top sandwich? Ugh. With jelly.
Gross.
I started back toward the entrance and hopped behind the coffee bar. I wasn’t a barista—that was usually Paige’s job, but I could make drinks if I needed to.
Luckily, majority of the customers were visiting the bar that served alcohol over by the stage.
I poured some hot water in a mug, and then started to dial in the shots. Once they were pulling the way Paige had shown me —blonding, as she said—I stopped the shots and poured them in the mug over the water.
As I tapped out the espresso in the filter, I heard the front door open, and looked over, surprised, when I saw Mr. Harris walking in with a younger brunette woman.
His brown eyes found me behind the bar, giving me a small wave, and my mouth tilted as he walked up to the counter.
“Hey, Linc.” He extended his hand out for a handshake and I reciprocated.
The exchange straightened my spine. Since our interactions were always at school, it wasn’t common practice for teachers to shake our hands—so I was a bit surprised at the grip of his handshake—firm, commanding. I made a note to work on mine.
Just as he released my hand, I asked, “Are you guys here for the show? Or are you grabbing drinks?”
Mr. Harris smiled. “Our rehearsal finished up early, so I thought we’d catch Paige’s set. But I was hoping you’d be here. San Diego invitations went out today and Without the Moon got a screening.”
My eyes widened. “No fucking way! Seriously?!”
He nodded and everything in me clenched. I fought the urge to haul ass back over to the room Paige was hanging out in—I wanted to tell her immediately.
But I must have been staring off because I suddenly noticed Mr. Harris tilting his chin down, trying to meet my eyes, and I blinked back up at him. I could feel the pull of my muscles in my mouth, still smiling as he said, “Congratulations, Linc. You deserve it.”
A warmth spread through me, pride lifting my chest. I’d second-guessed going to Providence pretty much on a daily basis.
Given the fact that Paige and I were both scholarship kids, the school knew we weren’t good for any other sponsorship or donations—and that meant the faculty overlooked us for shit like this.
But he didn’t, and the gratitude that filled with that thought was enough to cause a stutter through my chest. “Thanks, Mr. Harris. I wouldn’t have even gotten a shot if it weren’t for you. I really appreciate it.” I extended my hand again, ready this time.
When he took my hand again, I shook first, tightening my grip and he smiled wider. “It was all you, man. You can lead a horse to water, or some shit.”
We both chuckled, and after we released the handshake, a small silence passed and my eyes awkwardly flicked to the woman who was with him again.
She was pretty. She looked older than me, but younger than him, dressed casually in a tight black T-shirt and jeans.
He clicked his tongue. “I’m sorry. I’m running on fumes, I swear. Josie, this is Linc.” He leaned into her, quietly saying, “My best film student by a landslide.”
My face worked to control its shock. Not just at the claim, but . . . should he say stuff like that?
Not that it didn’t make me feel fucking great. If there was any faculty at Providence I cared about impressing, it was him. And it sounded like I had.
I felt my mouth tilt. I guess it was okay. It’s not like he said it at school, in front of everyone.
“Nice to meet you, Linc,” the woman said with a timid smile.
Mr. Harris looked over at her. “Josie’s in that new immersive project I was telling you guys about.”
My chin lifted with recognition. He’d mentioned something about doing a show—some kind of experimental piece, where performances were happening all through an apartment building.
I told him, “Oh, we’re pumped to see it. Paige, Ellis, and I are all gonna go.”
Josie smiled, but Mr. Harris nodded. “Oh, excellent. You’ll have to tell me what night, maybe we can all come here and chat after. I’d love to know what all of you think.”
Nodding, I said, “Sounds great,” then heard some whoops and miscellaneous noise from the seating area.
“Anyway,” Mr. Harris said, glancing toward the commotion. “Just sit anywhere?”
“Yeah, anywhere is fine,” I said with a shrug, picking up Ellis’s mug and rounding the espresso bar.
As we got back to the seating area, I placed the mug on Ellis’s table, but saw a high-top table in the corner of the room, and pointed it out to Mr. Harris and Josie.
He gave me a wave and they walked over, just as everyone started clapping.
I turned to see Paige was on the platform, under the lights.
God, she really did look cute. The glitter in her hair. Those tight black jeans hugging her waist.
She smiled. “Jack brought the Fender tonight and a drummer,” she said, leaning toward a younger guy behind the drum set. “What’s your name, dude? I need to know the name of the guy keeping time.”
The crowd chuckled, and before the drummer could answer her, some asshole yelled, “I’ll keep time for you, baby!”
My chin snapped in the direction of the voice, but I couldn’t see. Paige’s eyes squinted out among the crowd, finding me immediately, but only for a second before she narrowed her gaze toward where the voice came from, cocking her eyebrow “Something tells me you can’t keep up.”
A group of bro-like “Ooos” came from the huddle of guys up near the front of the stage. Jack gave a dramatic strum to his electric guitar, and the drummer gave a small rolling tap as the crowd got even louder.
My mouth inched up, watching Paige as she whispered something to Jack. She was fucking amazing. I knew she was nervous, but to the average eye, you’d never know it when she was in front of an audience—only made more convincing by her clap back at that dipshit.
Just as another moment passed, she gave a, “3-2-1,” and the drummer took off as Jack immediately joined in on guitar. After a small intro, Paige started to sing, “That’s What You Get” by Paramore, and the crowd erupted—myself included.
Pulling out my phone, I turned on the camera, zooming in on her hand holding the microphone—like it was an extension of her own arm, holding it to her mouth, and amping magic through the speakers as I started to record.
I stayed on her, then moved the phone slowly, sweeping over the crowd—a sea of shadowed bodies jumping and singing along—fully loving the pretty girl rocking the fuck out on stage right now.
My girl.
My eyes made their way over to the area in front of the performance space—the mass that belonged to that group of guys. I didn’t condone assholes who openly hit on girls like that guy had just done to Paige —not ever— but something about my reaction to it had . . . shifted since we got together.
I used to have silent, rageful fits when I noticed guys checking her out —a Linc-down, as Ellis affectionately coined the term. But now that I knew Paige wanted me like I wanted her . . . well, some devious, barbaric part of me kind of loved watching other guys drool over her. Knowing they could look at her, but it was me she let touch her. Kiss her.
Goddamn. I had just gotten rid of my last erection and I already felt my dick twitching below my jeans.
My eyes dragged along the crowd again, but I kept the camera steady on her. What else is a bus boy who’s obsessed with the hot local singer to do?
Ellis ended up crashing pretty hard by the end of Paige’s set list, so he’d left. I just came back in from the final trash run and turned off the espresso machine as I saw Mr. Harris and Josie walking toward the café area.
“Hey,” he said, with an easy smile. “Your girl’s a bit of a rockstar, huh?”
I nodded, peeking back over toward the seating area. “Is she still stuck schmoozing?”
It was her least favorite part of “the biz” but I had promised to rescue her by the time I finished cleaning up.
Mr. Harris nodded. “It seems so, unfortunately, and we’ve gotta run. But she really was great. Pass along the message for me, okay?”
“Sure,” I said, then looked over to Josie saying, “It was nice to meet you,” before I shifted my eyes back to him. “And thanks again for everything, Mr. Harris—just send me anything I need to do before the screening and I’ll get it done.”
He smiled, nodding. “Will do, Linc. Congrats again.”
It was the first time I noticed I was actually a little taller than him. I wasn’t sure if it was something I had just never noticed before or if we were standing closer than we typically were at school.
He was still standing about a foot away, but then he leaned in just a little closer and said, “And you can call me Jeremy when we’re not at school, okay?”
I nodded with a smile. Cool.