Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 81520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
As I’m introducing Layla to Declan, Kaylee and Tori walk in. They’re cool chicks, so I nod for them to come over and introduce them to Layla. The girls hit it off right away and spend the next few minutes getting to know each other while we wait for the teacher to start class.
“What’s with you and the new girl?” Braxton asks later at lunch. Word has already gotten out around school that there’s a new girl, and since I walked her to our first three classes, she’s obviously been linked to me.
I’m scribbling words into my notebook, hoping eventually some of them will get turned into lyrics, so I don’t look up when I say, “Nothing. She’s my new next-door neighbor.”
“She’s hot as hell,” Gage says, sitting next to me and dropping his tray of shitty food on the table.
“Fuck yeah, she is,” Declan agrees, sitting next to Braxton and across from me. “But not as hot as your sister.”
I look up and glare at him. “Don’t talk about my sister.” I point my finger at him. Fucking dick has been obsessed with my older sister, Kendall, since he met her. She’s seven years older than us and doesn’t even know he exists. “And she’s off-limits.”
“No shit. She’s dating that actor…”
“Not her… though she’s definitely off-limits as well, even if she wasn’t dating that dumbass. I’m talking about Layla. She’s off-limits.”
Braxton’s brows hit his forehead. “You laying claim on her?”
“She has a boyfriend back in Michigan. But even if she didn’t, it’s not happening.” There’s no way I’m letting my asshole friends anywhere near her. They would use her up and spit her out just like they do the rest of the girls at this school.
Declan scoffs. “It’s sounding a whole lot like her boyfriend is sitting at this table.”
“We’re friends,” I say dryly, going back to working on some lyrics.
“Whatcha got there?” a feminine voice asks a few minutes later.
Looking up, I find Layla sitting next to me, her raspberry-vanilla scent invading my nostrils, and her eyes on my notebook.
“That’s his journal,” Braxton says, answering for me. “It’s where he writes all his secrets.”
“Aw, that’s cute,” Layla coos. “I have one too. I keep it under my bed…” She scrunches her face up in an adorable way, making her twin dimples pop out. “But I probably shouldn’t have said that out loud, huh?”
“Good to know,” Braxton says, “in case I’m ever in your room.” He shoots her a wink, and I kick him in the shin, making him groan in pain.
“This isn’t a journal like that. It’s where I jot down my ideas for songs.”
“You write songs?” Her voice perks up, and she moves closer to sneak a peek.
I close my book. Nobody’s allowed to see what I write—hence Braxton talking shit. “I do,” I tell her. “We’re in a band.” I nod to the other guys.
“Really? You didn’t tell me that last night.” She playfully jabs my side. “You any good?”
“Damn good,” Kaylee says. “They’ll be playing Friday night at the party Ricky’s throwing. You should totally come.”
“I’m there.” Layla’s eyes meet mine. “I can’t wait to see you guys play.”
After school, since Layla and I don’t have our last class together, I text her, telling her to meet me in the student pickup so she can ride home with the guys and me. Bailey texts that she’s going home with a friend.
When we get home, Layla says she’ll see us tomorrow and then heads over to her house. Before she gets to her door, I call out her name. “We’ll be practicing all afternoon if you want to come over and hang out.”
A huge grin spreads across her face. “Let me just say hi to my mom, and then I’ll come over.”
The afternoon is spent practicing while Layla videos and takes pictures. I’m not sure what she’s doing, but she’s so into the music and us, I don’t question it. At some point, Dad comes home, and I introduce him to Layla.
“Did you make that today?” he asks her from behind her laptop. I’m on the other side so I can’t see what he’s talking about.
“Yeah, I’m just messing around. My dad bought me this new program.”
“Can you play it back for me from the beginning?” he asks.
Curious, the guys and I walk around behind her to check it out. It’s a rough cut of us practicing, homing in on each of us from different angles—still shots, video clips—showcasing each of our best attributes. I’ve seen my sister and dad play, have watched their live performances and music videos, but this is the first time I’ve seen myself and the guys as an outsider. We’ve been playing for years, but at this moment as I watch ourselves from Layla’s perspective, I feel like we’re actually a fucking band.