“Not in a while.” I used to write in my journal daily, and not just lyrics. My every thought, frustration, hope, and dream. Since my dad died, I haven’t written a word. Writing about it means thinking about it, and thin
king about it means feeling it.
“It’ll happen,” Dylan says, reading my thoughts. I bite down on my lip, swallowing hard.
I reach for his beer, taking a swig before pasting a smile onto my face. “So,” I say, slapping the table, “let me hear what you’ve been working on.”
The front door swings open, and we both swivel our heads around at the sound. Hunter, the bassist for their band The Liars, walks in wearing only a pair of basketball shorts and a backwards hat. He’s six-foot-four—I know this, because somehow, it always ends up being the topic of discussion—and has to be at least two hundred and fifty pounds. Between his ginormous frame, his tattoos, and his beard, chicks cling to him like cellophane. Caleb, the drummer, is right behind him, clothed and a few inches shorter, but never lacking in the female department with his blond hair and blue eyes. Total boy band material. That face was made to grace the bedroom walls of teenage girls everywhere.
Caleb has a girl riding piggyback and another few pour in behind him.
Hunter smacks a girl’s ass, and she twirls around. “Don’t you have a girlfriend?” She giggles.
“Nah, she died,” he says, sporting his best puppy dog eyes, bottom lip jutting out.
The girl gasps, her smile dropping. “I’m so sorry. How did it happen?”
“Plane crash.”
“Oh my God…”
“Help me forget?” Hunter pulls her to his front and kisses her. Hard.
Dylan looks over to me, raising a brow, knowing that’s a load of shit. Hunter’s ex is alive and well. “I guess we’re partying.”
“Can’t.” I pout. “I have class tomorrow.”
“Allie!” Hunter shouts after he comes up for air, like he hasn’t seen me in years. “What’s up?” he asks, dipping down to hug me in the chair where I sit. I laugh, circling my arms around his neck, and he takes the opportunity to lift me up, spinning me around. It’s impossible to be in a bad mood around Hunter.
“Allie Cat,” Caleb says, shucking the girl off his back, letting her land on the couch before coming in for a hug of his own. “What are you guys up to?”
“Trying to talk your lead singer over here into playing a new venue.”
“I’m in,” Hunter declares, clearly unconcerned with the specifics.
“Fuck yeah,” Caleb agrees. “As long as it’s not during finals.”
Hunter and Dylan share a look, and I know it’s because they feel like Caleb has one foot out the door. The band isn’t his life, like it is for Dylan and Hunter. I get the impression that Caleb is just passing time with the band until he graduates.
“Talk him into it,” I say, flicking my chin toward Dylan. “I’ve gotta go.”
Dylan stands, reaching into his front pocket for his keys. “I’ll be right back,” he tells the guys. “I’m gonna take her home.” The girls, now all three huddled up on the couch, eye fuck Dylan as we walk through the living room, but he doesn’t so much as acknowledge their existence.
“So, how are you liking your new digs?” he asks, once we’re on the road.
“It’s good for now,” I say, leaving it vague. “Getting to school is a pain in the ass, but it’s free and Lo’s cool.”
The distance between Dylan and Lo’s house is only a couple of miles, but with the windy roads through the woods, it feels much farther. “Turn here,” I say, pointing. Once we’re pulling into the driveway, Dylan turns to me, looking like he wants to say something.
“All—” he starts but stops when another vehicle swings into the driveway next to us. A black truck. And out comes none other than Jesse fucking Shepherd.
Dylan works his jaw and I close my eyes, dropping my head back against the headrest. “He doesn’t live here,” I say. I don’t owe Dylan an explanation, and he has no say in where I decide to stay or whom I decide to spend my time with, but for some reason, I get the impression that his feelings are hurt.
He bobs his head, not saying a word. Jesse, obnoxious as always, opens the passenger door.
“Going in?” he asks, ducking down so his face is visible. I shake my head at him, trying to convey that now is not the time.
“Go inside, Allie,” Dylan says, starting the engine back up. I look over at him, but he stares ahead, not meeting my eyes.