“Great,” I say calmly. Even though I want to shout, “Hallelujah!” And as we begin to walk together to the corner, I add, “By the way, I’ve got two ears, but I only need one. So, please, feel free to talk one of ‘em clean off.”
Four
Fish
As soon as Alessandra and I reach the loungers in the far corner of the patio, a roving waiter appears like a genie to take our drink orders. We make our requests—a craft beer for me and bottle of water for Alessandra—and get situated.
There’s another splash in the pool and we both glance over. This time, it appears Keane and Zander are competing in some sort of belly flop contest.
“They’ve been friends forever,” I explain. “They’re total goofballs.”
“They’re funny.”
And you’re cute, I think. But what I say is, “Yeah, they’re really funny.”
We’re quiet for a moment.
Smiling at each other.
Fidgeting.
I can’t believe she’s not immediately launching into asking me a thousand questions about my band. About Dax, maybe. The making of the video for “People Like Us.” How we got our name. How and when we formed the band. All the usual topics that always flow with every pretty girl I’ve met around the world—especially the ones who cop to loving my band.
But, nope. Apparently, even though Alessandra has already admitted she loves 22 Goats, she’s apparently not going to gush about us. Nor is she going to flirt with me or otherwise blow smoke up my ass. Which, I freely admit, is something I’ve come to count on in situations like this. I’ve got no game, after all. Or, at least, very little, when it comes down to it. So, of course, I’m relieved when a woman I’m talking to takes the reins and starts brazenly flirting.
I fidget again, at a loss for what to say. I kind of feel like I should stop asking her about school, but it’s the only thing popping into my head. I ask, “What year are you at Berklee?”
“I just finished my second year.”
“So, that makes you . . . nineteen . . . twenty?”
“Nineteen. I’ll be twenty at the beginning of August.”
“Cool.”
There’s a beat. Another awkward silence. Another series of shy smiles exchanged.
Alessandra chews on the inside of her cheek while I twiddle my fingers and race through possible discussion topics again. World news? God, no. My band? No. If we’re going to talk about that, she should be the one to bring it up, or else I’ll come off like a narcissist.
The waiter comes with our drinks, saving me from myself, and we thank him. When he leaves, I sip my beer and try to act relaxed and casual, even though my heart is racing and my skin is alive with an intense attraction to her.
“Where are you from?” I ask. That seems safe.
“Antelope Valley. About an hour from here.”
“I’ve never been there.”
“There’s no reason to go. It’s in the boondocks. Known for poppy fields and not much else. My mother is a florist, so it’s a good place for her to live.”
“Ah. That’s cool. My mother is a teacher. Third grade.”
“That’s cool. Where are you from?”
“Seattle.”
“I’ve never been there.”
“It’s awesome. You should go.”
“I’d like to. From what I’ve seen in movies and stuff, it looks amazing.”
I nod. “Dax, Colin, and I grew up there.”
“That’s so cool you grew up together, and now you’re traveling the world together, living your dreams.”
“Yeah. It’s the best.”
Kat’s laughter rises up, and we turn to look at her. She’s throwing her head back while conversing with her husband and their two best friends.
“That’s Dax’s big sister. Kat.”
“I met her. She seems nice. I don’t think I realized she’s Dax’s sister, though.”
“Keane’s, too. She’s evil, by the way. Pure evil.”
Alessandra’s eyebrows ride up.
“I meant that as a compliment. She’s the best. Very good at getting what she wants.”
Alessandra grins. “My stepsister Georgina is evil in that same way. She’s insanely smart and always figures out a way to get what she wants, without anyone realizing that’s what she’s doing.”
“Exactly. That’s an impressive skill, isn’t it?”
“Very impressive. Unfortunately, I’m not evil like that. At all.”
“Me, either,” I say, chuckling. “Not at all.”
We share another smile and then sip our drinks again.
There’s another long moment of silence. Clearly, she’s still nervous around me. And, frankly, I’m still nervous around her. Clout chasers and fame vampires are easy. They do all the talking and flirting, while I sit back and do absolutely nothing but answer the same questions, time after time. But with Alessandra, I feel like I’ve got to keep the conversation going. And that’s not my strong suit when it comes to pretty girls.
Oh, I’ve got it! Astrology. I know nothing about it, but Kat loves talking about that shit. I can’t even count the number of times she’s gone on and on about it. Specifically, about me being a Taurus meaning such and such. “I just turned twenty-five at the end of May,” I say, out of nowhere. “That makes me a Taurus.”