“No, thanks.”
Zero had finished practice early today. Charlie gave us instructions to meet up at Justin and Gray’s house for another round of photos later tonight, but I figured I’d sit this one out. I wasn’t in the mood.
“Hmm. When are you heading over there?”
“I’m not going.”
“Oh, yeah? Did you tell Charlie?”
“You can tell him,” I replied, trading my electric guitar for an acoustic.
He huffed in amusement. “I’ve never seen you this cranky before. It’s kind of cute, but…you need to let that go before Bobby J brings Parker in.”
I opened and closed my mouth like a codfish. “Parker?”
“Yeah, Bianca came by to let you know he was here, but the door was locked. Bobby J overheard and took him next door to hang out with Jealousy. They’ve been calling your cell, but you didn’t answer and—”
“He’s next door?” I repeated, bracing my elbows on the guitar and hanging my head. “Shit.”
“Hey, did something happen with Sean?”
I swallowed hard, hating that it hurt to hear his name. “It just…didn’t work out.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“Me too. And I don’t want to talk about it, but you were right. He wasn’t going to let me in and—”
“Dude, he already did,” Tegan intercepted.
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
T gestured manically toward the studio next to ours. “His kid is here. You actually know that kid. You probably know his favorite color and what size shoe he wears. And that might not sound like a big deal, but I dated Sean for well over a year, and I don’t think I ever knew his middle name.”
“Patrick,” I said unthinking.
“Yeah, I didn’t know that. For what it’s worth, I think you’re very, very important to him. And he’s…a little damaged. But hey, aren’t we all?” Tegan stood abruptly and smacked me upside the head. “Just keep Parker out of it. Kids don’t need to deal with adults being idiots.”
I jumped to my feet and curled my hands into fists. I knew better than to use them on Tegan. I needed my fingers to play.
“Fuck you,” I hissed. “I wouldn’t—”
“I know. I know. You care. You might even love him. And if that’s true, don’t give up. Be patient. The waiting is worth it for the real thing.” Tegan patted my back and stepped toward the door. “I’ll send Parker over.”
I stared after him for a moment, then reclaimed my stool. I balanced my instrument on my lap and bent over the strings. Parker walked into the studio, quiet as a church mouse. He chose the stool opposite mine, mimicking my posture as he strummed his guitar. I smiled when he played “Love Me Do.”
He was actually pretty damn good at it now. I joined in, bending the notes slightly to enhance the sound. He went directly into “Stairway to Heaven” and this time I looked up and laughed. He knew this was one of my favorites. He took it as far as he could before switching to Prince’s “Raspberry Beret.” He’d obviously been hanging out with me too much. His taste in music was eclectic…and old.
He stopped midway through the song and began a Zero song with similar chord progression. It was kind of genius as far as mash-ups go, but if I was reading this correctly, it also conveyed a message.
I flattened my hand over my strings and waited him out, chuckling when he finished with a rock star flourish.
“That was quite a concert. Nice job. You do McCartney and Lennon proud with ‘Love Me Do.’ ”
“Who’s that?” he asked, cocking his head.
I furrowed my brow. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”
Parker dissolved into laughter at my expression. His mischievous grin warmed me from the inside out. This was how he should feel all the time. Carefree, confident, and comfortable in his own skin. Something told me he’d get there.
He sobered and looked away briefly. “I just wanted you to know that I’ve learned a lot.”
A grapefruit-sized ball of emotion swelled in my chest, making my eyes water. I cleared my throat and nodded intently. “You have. You should be proud of yourself.”
“Yeah, I guess. So…is this my last lesson?” he blurted, avoiding my gaze.
“That’s up to you. You’re welcome here anytime, Parker. My schedule is about to get intense, and I may have to juggle things to make it happen, but Bobby J can always cover too. He’s a good guy.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, still not meeting my eyes.
“You know, I like science stuff too.” I smiled when he looked up. “I do. I don’t know as much as you, but I’d like to. It’s important to follow your passion. Don’t worry about what’s popular. Popular kids worry about stupid shit too. ’Scuse my French. Be happy. If studying the intestines of frogs is your thing, go for it. What I’m trying to say is…we can make time to do things you like too.”