Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 129207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Rock laughs, and I can imagine the way he would drag his hands down his face. “Alright then,” he says. “Any idea of yours, even a shitty one, is better than doing nothing.”
“Okay,” Dylan says. “Let me do some digging, and if I think it’s actually manageable, I’ll put it forward. But beware, Ezra’s gonna be pissed.”
“Shit,” Rock mutters. “I’ll take pissed Ezra a million times over watching him waste his life away. At least it gives him something to fight about.”
“True.”
“Alright, I’m out,” Rock says. “I’ve got some shit to do, and then I’m spending the night looking over Lenny’s suggestions for new guitarists. The sooner we get someone in, the quicker we’ll know if they’re a good match.”
“Yeah, alright,” Dylan says. “I’ll talk to Ezra and make sure he’s sober enough to start rehearsals tomorrow. Knowing him, it’s bound to be a fucked-up night after that meeting.”
“Okay. Keep his ass out of the media. The last thing we need is another fucking scandal right before announcing the commencement of the tour.”
“I’ve got it, man.”
And with that, their voices fade away, leaving me here with nothing but my internal torture, desperately wishing there was some way to make it all . . . disappear.
10
Raleigh
14 YEARS OLD
The band plays as I sit cross-legged on the couch that Axel and Ezra picked up off the side of the street. I was hesitant to sit on it for the first six months. The couch is old and falling apart, and it came with a pungent stink to it, but after Mom got sick of staring at the stains every time she walked into the garage, she finally hit it with the carpet shampooer and suddenly it was good as new. That didn’t stop me from laying a sheet over it first.
My laptop rests against my knees as I do my thing, working on the design of the guys’ first flyer for their upcoming gig. It’s nothing astronomical, just a forty-five-minute set at one of our local bars that offer live music, but it’s their first real stepping stone, and since the moment we heard the news, it’s been guns blazing around here.
Every spare moment, the guys practice. If they’re not at school, they’re right here, and I’m not going to lie, I don’t hate it. I know technically I’m not in the band, but I might as well be. I’ve been right here since day one. I know their songs just as well as they do, know all the ins and outs, know all the drama that’s going on behind the scenes, and honestly, the drama isn’t that great. They really need to work on that if they intend to be rockstars.
Axel is too focused on the band to worry about having a girlfriend. Rock and Dylan are the manwhores of the group. They tend to have random girls show up during practice who think they’re about to become the apple of the boys’ eyes. As for Ezra . . . Well, he’s somewhat focused on me.
God, just the thought of it makes my cheeks flame.
Since day one, Ezra has been at the very front of my brain. I’m so aware of him it’s ridiculous. When he walks into a room, I don’t just see it, I feel it. When he brushes past me, my skin burns from his touch. When he looks at me, my heart explodes into a million tiny Ezra-shaped pieces. Sometimes when it’s just the two of us, he will drape his arm over my shoulder and gently press a kiss to my temple, and I swear I could fly.
I’m in love.
Scratch that. I’m not just in love. I’m head over heels, unbearably falling for a boy who I’m not sure is even okay for me to want. He’s seventeen now, and no matter the age difference, I always feel like some dumb kid in comparison. Yet, when he looks at me, I swear he feels something too.
Maybe I’m insane. He’s the most gorgeous boy I’ve ever met. Girls are always falling at his feet, and that’s before they’ve heard him sing. He could have anyone he wants, yet whenever I’m in the room, it’s my stare he seeks out.
Don’t get me wrong, he’s never actually said that I’m anything more than just his best friend’s little sister. He’s never touched me or kissed me for real. He’s never done anything that warrants me believing there could be something between us, but I feel it.
When he looks at me, it’s not just a passing gaze, it’s a deep, longing stare that has a million messages passing between us, and it’s everything to me. The second our gazes collide, there’s a connection that’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt, and I don’t ever want to let it go. When he’s not here, I feel cold, and when his mom insists on family weekends out of town, my soul physically aches, and while I’ve never found the guts to tell him that, I think he knows.