I stared at him in absolute confusion. “Huh?”
“It took you a while to read the screen,” he explained. “Ergo it had to be from a chick. Two guys messaging back and forth to each other will keep it to five words or less per text...or they’ll just call. So yeah...you were most definitely sexting.”
“Whatever.” I shook my head as I walked off. “You’re weird. Stop being so weird.”
“That’s okay if you don’t want to talk about her yet,” he yelled after me. “I’ll learn who she is soon enough.”
“Freak,” I muttered under my breath. But for some strange reason, what he said stuck in my head. Making sure he wasn’t looking, I pulled my phone from my pocket and reread my conversation with Sticks.
Sure enough, everything I’d typed to him had been squeezed into five words or less. His shortest text to me had been ten words long.
“Huh,” I murmured, frowning as I shoved the phone back into my pocket. Then I finished my shift and didn’t think about the bizarreness of it again.
“¡Dios mío! I am such a moron.” I tossed my cell phone onto the coffee table as if it was infected and swiped my hand across my forehead, utterly mortified.
I’m surprised Asher hadn’t called me a freak and told me not to bother coming to the show tomorrow. What I’d just texted him had been beyond idiotic.
I’d started out, trying to be funny, but then it’d sounded like I was being too sophomoric. Yet when I tried to explain what I’d really meant, it’d all just gone downhill from there and splashed right into shit lake.
“Ugh.” This was his fault, I decided. The guy was just too hot. After spending hours in his company, listening to him sing, I was still rocking too many raging hormones.
But Asher had shocked me today. In a good way. After my first encounter with the group, I’d had it stuck in my head that Galloway was their leader. That had concerned me. I mean, not enough that I didn’t want to play with them tomorrow, but it’d still been a distressing, disturbing, depressing thought.
After this afternoon, however, it was apparent that Asher took care of things. He knew where the songs were kept, had paid the bill for the studio rental, he’d made all the suggestions on changing and fine-tuning songs here and there, and he’d been the one to remind us where we were supposed to meet for our next gig. Him, I might be able to get behind as a leader...especially since he had such a nice behind. But Gally? Hell to the no. I would never stick with a band longer than one gig if he led it.
Remembering Asher’s reminder about our gig, I’d realized I hadn’t gotten an exact time. And thus had begun the ten-minute debate with myself whether I should call or text him...and it had to be him I contacted; he’d been the only band member who’d bothered to exchange numbers with me. So, I’d ended up going with a text, since calling would be disastrous; I knew too well what hearing his voice did to me.
And yet I still managed to flub even texting up. I was once again groaning through my embarrassment when the front door blew open and Jodi breezed inside, toting a small bag and a big smile.
“Hey, puta. Damn, do I have some goodies for you!” Then she pulled to a stop as she got a look at me. “You’re still in your mask.”
“Huh?” I blinked at her before I realized... “Oh, shit. I am. I just got home from band practice.” As I slowly peeled my “Sticks” mask off over my head, I grinned, giddy from actually being able to say I’d been to a practice...with my new rock band! “You know, I actually dig this whole gay idea.” I had already texted her that the guys had caught me scoping out Asher’s bare chest and about the whole gay conversation that had followed. “Now I can check out a guy,” meaning Asher, since I was sure I wouldn’t notice other men while he was around, “and no one will think it’s weird. Shit, why didn’t I come up with this idea before even auditioning with them? It’s brilliant.”
Then I scratched at a place right on the inside of my upper thigh where my man panties I hadn’t taken off yet were chaffing.
Jodi squinted at me scratching myself. “Sweetie, you do remember you’re a girl, right?”
I jerked my hand from my crotch. “Yes. Hush. Besides, the man panties you made me were itching like crazy.”
She sighed. “I’ll forget you just bashed my clever invention, because I’m still too jazzed about all the awesome shit I just did for you.”
“Why? What’d you do?”
Sniffing airily, she fluttered out a hand in a girly, dramatic fashion. “Well... despite the fact I don’t approve of this idea and I think you’re crazy for actually going out like this in public tomorrow, I decided to show my support for you, anyway. And I bought you a couple things you’ll need.”
Sitting up straighter, I clapped happily. “Really?” Ooh, gifts! I loved gifts. “I knew there was a reason I adored you. What’d you get me?”
“For starters, there’s this...” She pulled a small chunk of plastic that looked like a credit card from the bag and waved it with a flourish before stopping to display it for me. “A fake ID!”
Blinking, I slowly slid it from her hand. “Oh, wow. You shouldn’t have. This is so awesome, Jodi.”
The last time I’d tried to get a fake ID, I was seventeen and my uncle had discovered it before I could even try to go to a bar with it. Surprisingly it was still naughtily thrilling to have one, even at twenty-three.
Jodi had taken a couple pictures of me after dressing me up the first time, but I figured it was for school credit or something...not this. I snickered at my manly mug set alongside my real name and weight and height. Actually, the only thing that wasn’t true, was the picture...and honestly, that was me too, just...an altered version. Even the gender was marked the same.
“Wait, this says I’m a female.”
Scowling, Jodi ripped it from my hand and carefully tucked it into a brand new wallet. “As if anyone’s going to check for an F or an M. Gah.” She handed the wallet back, which must be another present from her. “You probably won’t even get carded.”