Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 88586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
“I am a rock god,” I bluffed, pouring my coffee methodically.
He gave a half laugh. “Right.”
“They didn’t say much. I told them we had a tricky relationship.” And now that we’d officially crossed into “Things we didn’t talk about for a reason” territory, it was time to change the topic. “How’s your mom?”
Tegan frowned. “Who told you?”
“Justin. He wasn’t sharing secrets. He was warning me not to fuck with you…if that makes you feel any better.”
“Hmm. She’s okay.”
Silence.
I studied the skull tattoo partially hidden under his white tee before trying again. “How’s your dad doing?”
“He’s a mess, but he’s playing it cool.”
“I’m sorry, T.”
“Thanks. Me too. They weren’t sure how far it had spread initially, but supposedly vigorous treatment will help and…She’ll be okay. I have to believe that, ’cause the alternative is just…” He sighed, shaking his head like he was clearing cobwebs.
“I know. I wish…I wish you’d told me sooner.”
Uh oh. Big mistake. Tegan gaped at me for a beat or two, then set his mug on the counter and narrowed his eyes.
“Are you kidding me? I wouldn’t tell you if I cut myself shaving. Do you really think I’d tell you anything that matters? No fucking way. Don’t think anything changed because of the other night. Don’t think we’re friends, don’t think I like you, don’t think…”
I gritted my teeth and tuned him out. First of all, I didn’t do well with a lot of negativity. I liked happy, cheerful things, and though I’d quit trying to please everyone a long time ago, I hated being told anything was impossible.
So, I watched his mouth instead. He had sexy full lips. I’d always thought so. Well…after I clued in to my bi side.
Fun fact…Tegan was the first guy I’d ever kissed. It was at his family’s annual holiday party when we were fifteen. I hadn’t really wanted to go, but his mom sent a special handwritten request telling me how much the Monroes missed me, and my mom had a house to show in the area the same afternoon, so I figured why not?
At that point, any communication I had with T had been linked through video games and occasional texts. We hadn’t physically seen each other in two years. When my mom married Sam, we moved to the OC. It was just a forty-minute drive from Long Beach, but it might as well have been another state. We’d slowly drifted apart, which wasn’t a major surprise. We went to different schools, made new friends, and had new interests. And in my case, new family members.
My stepdad and stepbrothers were okay, but my hormonal teenage self hadn’t adjusted well to the sudden influx of family. I think my mom hoped a trip to my old hood would be good for me. It was certainly…enlightening.
That was the night I found out that Tegan had taken up the drums and joined a band. It was also the night I found out that I was very attracted to him. And yes, it was the first time we kissed.
It happened so organically. Like it was always going to be part of our story. But it started out a little stilted. We didn’t know how to talk to each other in person anymore. We stood around like a couple of morons, tipping contraband beers and making painful small talk about mutual acquaintances we didn’t care about while “Holly Jolly Christmas” blared in the background.
I was two seconds away from calling my mom to pick me up early when Tegan asked if I wanted to check out his drums. I shrugged, then followed him as he navigated the holiday crowd and slipped out the kitchen door.
The garage was a separate structure behind the house, which according to Tegan made it an ideal studio. I wasn’t sure what I expected, but I was impressed. He wasn’t playing around. The drum kit was badass, and his bass and acoustic guitars were the real deal. And so was Tegan. He actually knew how to play everything.
I was awestruck and I didn’t bother hiding it. I hung on his every word as he showed me a few tricks and tapped out a jazz beat his new music instructor taught him. And just like that, we were “us” again. The teenage version of the best buds who finished each other’s sentences in grade school.
Tegan stepped away from the drums and grabbed the bass. He told me to help myself to the guitar and urged me to play a few chords. My stepbrother, Aiden, taught me a couple of Prince songs, so I played what I could remember from “If I Was Your Girlfriend,” singing the lyrics because it helped me remember where to position my fingers on the fret. I remembered his wide grin as he followed my lead, and I remembered our whoop of laughter when we hit the final note, congratulating ourselves for being rock stars in the making. And I remembered the poignant silence afterward.