Phone Calls Double Edition

Chapter One

You’re lucky to have me as a big brother.

I ignored Seth as I concentrated on the energetic rock band jumping around the stage on VTV, my favorite music channel, and spooned chocolate chip ice cream in my mouth. The scream of their guitars reverberated off the walls thanks to the surround sound system my dad had finally installed earlier that summer.

Don’t you want to know why you’re so lucky to have me? Seth persisted, leaning over the back of the couch and invading my personal space. I licked my spoon clean and dropped it in the empty bowl before sliding it across the coffee table. I sat up so I could listen to his latest lecture.

Yes, dear brother, I began in a sarcastic tone. Do tell why I am so fortunate.

Because I am about to rescue you from boredom. It’s your last weekend home before the parents ship you off to that snobby boarding school of yours and I’m going to make sure you enjoy it.

I pointed at him, narrowing my suspicious eyes. He was three years older than me and looking at him was almost like looking in a mirror – our resemblance was so great. We both had blond hair, green eyes and slim builds. He, being male, was more muscular and towered over me. Of course, I had inherited my mother’s height, so it wasn’t much to brag about when he pointed out how much taller he was.

"You graduated from that so-called snobby boarding school, so don’t get on your high horse. Besides, who said I was bored? Maybe I want to waste away in front of the television." I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest to illustrate my point.

He rolled his eyes, hopped over the back of the sofa and dropped beside me. His lips curled into a smug smirk as he shifted so he could pull an envelope out of his back pocket. He handed it to me, and I peered inside cautiously. Seth usually was a good big brother, but he’s been known to pull a prank or two - especially on me.

My eyes grazed the contents of the envelope and I gasped, immediately growing lightheaded. He couldn’t be serious! Seth…how…no way… I sputtered, causing his smirk to widen. I mean… how? Who did you have to kill?

He snatched the concert tickets out of my hand and carefully shoved them back inside the envelope. Easy. Pete has connections. And since Pete can’t go, I thought I’d take you. He smacked his palm with the envelope, a look of superiority on his face.

"What do you mean, ‘since Pete can’t go?’ I should have been your first choice!"

He laughed and chucked me under the chin like a cute little kid. Didn’t you just say last week these guys were a bunch of hopped up Neanderthals who probably savaged innocent girls for kicks?

Okay, so maybe I did. But that didn’t mean their music wasn’t fantastic. That doesn’t matter, I quickly amended. I love baseball even though I think a lot of the players are overpaid jocks.

You are such a hypocrite, he muttered, taking the tickets out of the envelope to peek at them again. What, did he think they suddenly changed into tickets for…I don’t know…Julio Iglesias? If that was the case, he could definitely count me out.

I am not a hypocrite; I’m a music fan. Big difference. I refrained from sticking my tongue out at him. I was about to enter my senior year of high school so I figured I’d act a little mature.

Whatever, he grinned. So are you going or what?

Are you serious? Of course I’m going. For someone with a high GPA, he sure seemed pretty dumb.

The concert is tomorrow night. Pack a bag because we’re getting a couple of rooms. He leapt from the couch and bounded up the stairs, laughing at my slack-jawed response. For safety purposes, he called over his shoulder.

"Safety purposes my butt," I mumbled as I slumped back into the sofa.

***

So tell me, dear Isabella, am I or am I not, your favorite brother? Seth grinned as we made our way to our front row seats. When I say front row, I mean front row balcony and not front row as in right in front of the stage. I mean, I know Seth is good, but he’s not that good. Still, the seats were pretty awesome.

Let’s forgo the clichéd ‘you’re my only brother’ and just say, yeah, Seth, you are my favorite brother. I took the concert shirts he handed me and frowned. Just because he bought them didn’t mean I had to lug them around all night. Did it?

I’m going to get us something to drink. I’ll be right back.

I just nodded and gazed at the crowd below me. I loved to people watch. My roommate from school, Annie, always says I’m weird but I prefer the term ‘observant’. After all, if I hadn’t been so observant, no one would have ever known Dean Gold spiked the punch at the Fall Festival. Okay, bad example. No one really cared who spiked the punch because obviously they all liked to have their good judgment impaired with alcohol. I guess it gave them an excuse to act like idiots - or more so in some cases.

Me, I prefer not to drink. Not only am I too young, but the stuff tastes nasty. And, I like to keep a clear head in most situations.

I watched the ladies line up in front of the stage. ‘Ladies’ was probably too polite a term, as most of them were dressed in scanty tops and tight jeans and motioning wildly for the roadies to throw them something; guitar pick, drum stick, chest hair, whatever. I rolled my eyes and leaned forward to get a better look. One lady in particular caught my attention. I pressed Seth’s binoculars to my eyes and focused on her. She was dressed similar to the girls around her but she was old as in I-left-the-three-kids-at-home-with-the-hubby old. Didn’t she watch VTV and see that the guys in this band were young? I mean early twenties young? Talk about your desperate housewife!

Stop glaring jealously at the girls in the front row, Seth said as he handed me a plastic cup full of alcoholic no-no. I winced at the smell and handed it back. Didn’t he remember I was underage and not a drinker? He rolled his eyes but placed the cup on the floor near his seat.

And I am not jealous of the bimbos in the front row, I pouted, crossing my arms over my chest. Look at them! How disgusting. Do they think one of the guys from the band is going to pluck them from the crowd and make them their wife?

You’re too funny, Bella, Seth chortled. He took a long drink from his cup, and I laughed at his foamy mustache. He wiped it on his sleeve and scowled at me just as the house lights went down and the crowd roared.

The opening band had one hit—period. They played the video over and over on VTV, and it was a decent song, though I was personally getting tired of it. I gave them the benefit of the doubt and listened, deciding their other songs weren’t too bad—but I couldn’t get into the music. I was too excited for the main act; Controlled Environment.

I watched the front row bimbos jump up and down in excited furor. Even the mommy was jiggling, trying to attract attention. It was comical, to say the least, and I hoped I’d never behave that way. Maybe they all had consumed alcohol or maybe their blood sugar was low. Who knew, and frankly, who cared. The band finally finished, and the house lights came back on. I watched the roadies converge on the stage and take apart the equipment while the bimbos called out to them, begging for souvenirs.

Seth struck up a conversation with a couple sitting next to him. He could be blindfolded, standing in front of a firing squad, and before a single assassin could squeeze off a shot, he’d make lifelong buddies out of them all. He made friends very easily. Me, not so much.

He mumbled something to me about getting more drinks with his new friends and promised to bring me back a soda. I hoped he’d return before Controlled Environment came on stage. I was afraid he’d get wrapped up in some kind of weird conversation and forget all about the concert. And my soda.

But he didn’t forget. He made it back just as the house lights went out and the crowd jumped to their feet, screaming wildly. Yes, I joined them - I couldn’t help it. I love music, especially live music. And especially if it was done well. Controlled Environment did music very well. They hadn’t been around for a long time but as soon as they emerged on the music scene, they exploded. Their first album had gone platinum and their second was well on its way.

The band came out on stage and burst into their first song. The crowd screamed hysterically. Did I say they were good? They were awesome! And okay, they were a little cute. None of them were Orlando Bloom or Johnny Depp hot, except for possibly Nick, but they weren’t hard on the eyes. Jake Johnson, the lead singer, had black, and I mean jet black, hair gelled into some kind of organized mess. In his videos his eyes always appeared so piercing blue, you wondered if he wore colored contacts. He was tall and lean with a slight build as though he tried to work out when he had time.

Nick Collins, the drummer, was the best looking. He was built better than the others and wore his bleached blond hair spiky. He had sweet green eyes and a sweet smile to match. And his drumming skills were often compared to some of the great legends.

Ronnie Stone and Matt Wenslow were tall and thin, like the others, with messy brown hair. They weren’t overly attractive but you’d never know by the crowd reaction. Just strap a guitar around their necks and they suddenly became Mr. Universe.

Jake strutted up and down the stage in torn jeans, a white t-shirt and a brown leather jacket. Leather jacket? On that hot stage? Typical bad boy attire if you were James Dean maybe. But then, they were labeled the bad boy band. Tabloid reporters followed their tour bus around practically drooling. Rumors circulated like wild fire that they even trashed an entire floor of some posh hotel in Boise, Idaho. I didn’t even know they had posh hotels in Idaho.

Some of their lyrics didn’t help this bad boy image either. Don’t get me wrong, they didn’t throw the F-word around in their songs just because it’s America and they have Freedom of Speech. No, they used explicit words tastefully. Well, as tastefully as possible when using explicit words. See, that’s one of the reasons I loved this band. Not only was the music superb but the lyrics were remarkably clever. Jake and Nick did all of the writing, so of course, they were pegged as tragic, angry young men taking out their miserable childhoods in their music. Did they actually have miserable childhoods? I didn’t know. Were they angry? They seemed pretty well-adjusted to me.

Seth and I screamed, clapped and stomped our feet with the rest of crowd until the house lights came back on following two encores. Seth took firm hold of my arm as we wrestled with the crowd. I glanced over my shoulder and laughed as the front row bimbos tried to wrangle something, anything, from roadies. Preferably Jake’s boxers.

Seth’s grip began to hurt, but he wouldn’t loosen up. Sometimes he took the big brother role a little too seriously.

I’ve invited a few people up to our rooms, he informed me. My stomach fell to my feet. Wonderful. A mass of strangers drinking who knows what until all hours of the night. So much for sleep.

Oh, joy, I muttered sarcastically.

***

My stomach rumbled as I brushed past a guy with long, greasy hair standing in the doorway of our connecting rooms. I was grateful I’d left all my valuables at home as Seth insisted I keep the adjoining door open to give our guests more room.

I flipped through the room service menu and frowned at my options - everything was too fancy for my taste. I had a craving for something sloppy and greasy, and I knew I wouldn’t get it here. Besides, I didn’t want to share my food with the twenty-some extra people. Let them raid the vending machines down the hall.

I threw the menu on the table and pushed my way through the throng, glaring at the blonde shamelessly flirting with my brother in the corner. Neither one took any notice of me, so I lifted Seth’s keys from the top of the television and squeezed back through my room. I slipped quietly out the door and ran to the elevator. Freedom was a sweet victory - until I stepped out in the cool night air and cursed my brother for not giving me enough time to change out of my thin t-shirt. Although it was August, the late night breeze drew chilly goose bumps on my flesh.

I jumped in Seth’s car and headed for the main strip. I knew there were a couple fast food joints, and that was exactly what I needed. Some people were addicted to drugs, others to alcohol, but for me, it was junk food.

Deciding that a Big ‘Un, a double cheeseburger from my favorite Burger Kastle, with all its messy goodness sounded wonderfully delicious, I turned into the drive-thru. I placed my order and checked for accuracy on the screen like a good customer. I kept my window down because I’d only have to roll it back down in a few minutes anyway and I’d hate to burn out the power window motor thing—if that was possible. Seth would have a fit.

I fiddled with the radio while throwing occasional glares at the car two ahead of me who was holding up the entire line. He must have ordered a hamburger with no ketchup, no mustard, no onions, add two and a half slices of cheese. One of those sorts who disrupt the entire drive-thru natural balance.

I huffed in impatience and played with the radio knobs again, trying to find the perfect song to fit my mood. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find the Frustrated Drive-Thru Customer station anywhere.

A loud bang startled me, and I looked up in time to see a guy dressed in jeans, a dark hoodie and a baseball cap run out the back door of the restaurant. He pulled the hood over the cap as he darted around the dumpster in an obvious attempt to get away from something. He sprinted toward my car. My car! The first ever Burger Kastle burglar wants to use my car as an escape vehicle. Okay, so technically it was Seth’s car, but I don’t think he really cared at that moment.

I instinctively hit the power lock button as he reached the passenger door to lock the already locked doors but hit the unlock button instead. The stranger yanked the door open and dived inside, ducking out of view.

Drive, he ordered. Now, woman. Damn it!

But I didn’t get my food yet, I answered, brain swirling in total confusion.

Please, get me out of here. I’ll buy you anything you want, I promise, he begged in a high, desperate voice.

What did you do in there? I asked as I pointed at the door. The entire ridiculousness of the situation hadn’t penetrated. I guess Seth was right when he said I had a thick skull.

Nothing, now will you please get me out of here before they find me?

But, I began, brow furrowed. If you robbed the BK I’ll get a reward for turning you in—maybe a lifetime supply of Big ‘Uns.

I heard before I saw a horde of teenage girls stampeding around the corner of the building. They stopped as though they were one entity, and all looked anxiously around – one of them even peeking in the dumpster. If they were looking for the robber then they had another thing coming—I was getting all the loot myself.

You’re kidding me, right? I stared seriously at his dark face. I couldn’t make out his features because the combination of the baseball cap and the hood shadowed it. He let out a long sigh. I knew that sound. It was the same one Seth used on me when I pushed him a little too far. He lowered the hood and removed his hat.

I gasped, hand to my chest, before hitting the gas, swerving in time to miss the vehicle in front of me, and squealed out of the line. I turned quickly into traffic and drifted away from the restaurant.

His climbed onto the seat and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. Thanks. I really appreciate this.

I stared at the road in front of me, startled by the identity of my carjacker and a little befuddled by the entire situation. My tired, hungry brain began to shut down and no coherent thoughts entered my mind. So, as usual, I spoke the only words I could comprehend at the moment.

You owe me a Big ‘Un.

Chapter Two

It took my bewildered mind a couple minutes to grasp the situation. It was like my entire head went numb and I couldn’t seem to jump up and grab on to reality. I didn’t know exactly what I was doing as I continued to drive to nowhere in particular. Finally, after a few awkward moments, I managed to lift one shaky hand off the wheel to point at him.

You’re Jake Johnson.

He grunted and continued to sulk in his little corner of the car. Great. First I’m nearly mauled by a bunch of crazy fans, and then I jump in the car of a groupie. Can this night get any better?

Hey! I shouted, startling us both. "That’s not nice. I’m not a groupie! I don’t hang out hoping you or one of your little friends will toss me a lock of your chest hair. If you even have any."

Heat rushed to my cheeks as I realized how immature I sounded, but I blamed it all on my still stunned mind and empty stomach.

He laughed, his voice as deep and rich as it had been hours earlier on stage. I watched out of the corner of my eyes as he appraised me then relaxed his shoulders. Sorry. Didn’t mean to insult you.

I bristled, doubting his apology was sincere. Well I don’t flounce around after tour busses offering myself up to the first rock star I meet, if that’s what you think.

Who uses the word ‘flounce’? he asked. His tone was a cross between amused and flabbergasted.

I do. It’s called expanding your vocabulary. You should try it sometime. So there, I wanted to add but that darn maturity thing got in the way.

He shook his head and turned it back to the window. I do expand my vocabulary. I write music you know.

You call ‘I like you best when you work your magic below my chest’ expanding your vocabulary? I uttered.

Actually I call it artistic, he snorted. What would you call it?

Pornographic, I sneered. That particular song always made me blush – especially in mixed company. But I’d never, ever admit that to him.

What do you know about writing lyrics, huh? You’re obviously not a fan. He scowled out the window, arms folded neatly across his chest in a pout. The light from the street lamps flickered across his face, one minute illuminating his features and the next casting them in the shadows. My nervous heart kicked up a notch.

Baby! I wanted to shout. Instead, I opened and closed my mouth a few times. I am too a fan, I said in a near whisper.

Well you could have fooled me, he said. Especially the way you rip apart my songs.

Was he for real? I made one little comment. Couldn’t he take constructive criticism? I sighed, feeling a little sorry for him. Not all of your songs. Only one or two -the vulgar ones.

Vulgar? What is so vulgar about my music? he demanded, facing me again.

"Do you want me to sing them to you?"

He laughed hollowly. Sure. Be my guest.

I glanced at him, hoping he was kidding. He wasn’t. A knowing smirk was plastered across his face. I quickly turned back to the road, embarrassment thundering in my ears. Well too bad because I am not going to sing. You know what I mean, anyway. They’re your songs; you should know the words.

Finally a little animation filled his face as he scooted as far up on the seat as the seatbelt would allow. Hey, when did he buckle up? I’d have to give him a little credit for thinking of safety. Not that I wanted to, but it was only fair. Do you ever really listen to the words? Do you know what the songs are about?

I… I stammered. I didn’t quite know what to say. I didn’t want to come off as some sort of know it all…hussy, but then I’d already revealed too much naiveté’ as it was. Some of that stuff, well, let’s just say I’d need a dictionary and perhaps a drawing or two to get the meaning.

I thought so, he replied smugly. They’re not all about sex, you know. If you’d listen you’d know that most of them are about how the guy doesn’t always just want a physical relationship. Sometimes he wants more than sex.

Sorry, I muttered. I guess I missed that. I turned my shameful eyes back to the road.

You would, he grumbled.

The guilt I’d felt moments go moved aside and allowed anger to take its place. It roared inside my head and demanded I set it loose on the man. Hey! That’s not fair. How can you judge me when you don’t even know me?

Sorry, he said and again I doubted his sincerity.

And how about the songs about drugs? What are they about? Ha. I had him this time.

He sighed and shook his head. I’m pretty sure he rolled his eyes too but I missed that part - I was trying to pay attention to the road. What would you have us write about- rainbows and butterflies? Spoiled little girls whose hearts get broken when Mr. Popularity doesn’t ask them to the prom?

The sting behind my eyes reminded me tears were near. I didn’t want to break down in front of him so I swallowed extra hard and concentrated on the road. I hated that I was such a crybaby at times—especially when I was angry. You pretend you know me when you don’t. How about you stop being so judgmental and try being a little grateful? I could have left you behind to be mauled by your hormone-crazed fans.

His eyes bored into the side of my head but I kept my chin up, pretending not to notice. The tears were still there, but I was doing a wonderful job of containing them. You’re right, he whispered. Really, I’m sorry.

I chanced a quick glance at him, and he gave me a brief smile. I returned it and stared at the dark road.

Where are we? he asked, eyes drifting to the shadows outside his window.

I’m not sure but I think I’ll turn around. I need to find another Burger Kastle.

You need to what? How can you think of your stomach at a time like this? His voice rose to the ceiling, and I wondered if he’d ever hit a note that high. So much for that smile. His hands were planted on the dashboard as though he were bracing himself for a crash.

I haven’t eaten in hours. And hours. I’m hungry, I protested. I was tempted to knock on his head to see if it was hollow. I need a greasy burger. It’s like a crack addiction except for me, it’s fast food.

Wonderful, he muttered, staring at the sky. Opinionated and a junk food junkie.

I am not opinionated! I wanted to fold my arms over my chest and huff but someone had to steer, and he wasn’t volunteering. Not that I was asking.

Listen to you ramble, he snorted.

I do not ramble, I fumed.

You haven’t shut up since I got in this car, he said as he gawked out the window, attempting to hide his laughter. It wasn’t hard to tell what he was up to – his entire body was shaking. He was getting to me and he knew it, and it only fueled my anger.

Be nice. Don’t make me pull over. All the blood in my circulatory system flooded my face and I knew, even though it was pretty dark in the car, he could see it. Did I really say that?

I must have because he was beside himself in laughter. He leaned against the door as his body trembled, and his face turned as red as mine had to be. I…can’t…believe…you said that, he guffawed. I haven’t…heard that…in a long time!

Yeah well my blood sugar must be very low. I muttered irritably. We were heading back down the main strip, and I couldn’t locate a single Burger Kastle except the one where I rescued Mr. Laugh-It-Up. I didn’t think it would be a good idea to return to the scene of the crime so I found an all-night burger stand instead. I made sure the doors were locked as I placed our order and collected our food, not even bothering to ask him if he’d like something other than a burger.

I decided to drive to this cool place I’d found one night while I was waiting for my friend Annie to come home. It was a tall hill that overlooked a sprawling corn field. Sounds corny, no pun intended, but it really wasn’t. It seemed as though you could see for miles, and it was so tranquil that I often went back when I needed somewhere quiet to think.

I drove through Annie’s subdivision, ignoring the huge, brightly lit houses. Jake peered absently out the window as the greasy cheeseburger scent filled the car and made my stomach rumble.

Where are you taking me? Jake asked.

You’re the one who carjacked me, remember? I reminded him. The asphalt ended and the dirt road began, inclining as it twisted around the trees. My window was still down, and I could hear the crickets singing to each other in sweet harmony.

Do you think it’s safe for you, a young helpless girl, to take me, a strange man, to some place so secluded?

I am not helpless, I told him. I wanted to punch him to prove it, but I refrained. My father had convinced me and my mother to take self-defense classes a couple of years ago when a man had gone crazy attacking women in our town. Still, I knew Jake had a point, but I didn’t want to admit it—I couldn’t bear to tell the arrogant idiot he was right. Besides, my dad always said trust your instincts, and Jake made me feel oddly comfortable.

Whatever you say, he said with a shrug.

We finally reached the top of the hill, and I parked the car. I hopped out, taking the bag of food with me, and climbed on the hood, basking in its warmth. Jake followed slowly and walked around to lean on the driver’s side.

Where are we? he asked.

Just a place I come to now and then, I replied as he accepted the cheeseburger I shoved in his face. I moved over, and he climbed on the hood next to me. We ate in silence, listening as the insects serenaded us. It was perfect, except for the breeze that made the hair on my arms stand at attention.

This is kinda cool, he admitted in a low voice. He finished his cheeseburger and shoved the wrapper in the bag. He reached in the front pocket of his sweat shirt and fished out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one as he leaned against the windshield.

Do you always have to be a tough guy? I blurted. So much for tact. I mean, there we were, two people enjoying wonderfully-greasy fast food, and I had to open my mouth. I prepared to apologize, but his laughter stopped me.

What are you talking about? he asked as amusement danced in his eyes. Poor guy. What he must think of me.

You’re all tense and stuff. And then you light up a cigarette. That’s a nasty, unhealthy habit you know.

He crushed his cigarette out on the bottom of his boot and stuck the butt in his pocket. Happy? I nodded, attempting to keep my mouth shut for once. He stretched his legs out and crossed them at the ankles. Come over here and check this out.

I gawked at him for a moment. What was he, mental? Huh?

Scoot back here by me. It’s cool.

I bit my lip then shrugged. What the heck? I slid back and leaned against the windshield. Smiling, he looked at the sky. I did the same and what do you know, he was right. The stars were sprawled before us, shimmering and twinkling in the darkness, reminding me of poetry and children’s tales. I guess I’d never really taken the time to notice them before, and I wondered why.

Kinda makes you feel insignificant, huh? Jake asked. His arm pressed against mine, and a shudder wracked my body. Are you cold?

I’m fine, I lied. There was no way I could tell him that it was his nearness making me tremble—I didn’t have the courage. Sitting up, he yanked his sweatshirt over his head, knocking his baseball cap to the car.

Here. He held it out to me, and I stared dubiously.

Won’t you be cold? I eyed the thin t-shirt he’d had on under the hoodie.

I’m fine. Take it.

I didn’t argue. I pulled it over my head and was immediately rewarded with warmth. Thanks, I said, giving him a hesitant smile.

Sure, he said as he fell back to the windshield. I joined him, a little closer than I was before. Tucking an arm behind his head, he pointed out several constellations with his other hand. I was extremely impressed.

Did you major in astronomy or something? I asked.

Nah. My dad used to take me camping a lot when I was a kid. He taught me and my sister all about that kind of stuff, he explained. I couldn’t imagine a big rock star like him having a father and a sister and sleeping in a tent. Yes, it was stupid, but really, when you thought about it, it’s hard to imagine. Of course at this particular moment, Jake seemed like just an ordinary guy. And he hadn’t been a bit arrogant since we got out of the car.

Where do your parents live? I asked, genuinely curious. I wasn’t one to read every single scrap of information on my favorite bands, so I actually didn’t know much about him. I knew his music was good and his lyrics excellent and that was about all.

My dad and my younger sister, Greta, live near Chicago. I don’t know about my mother. She left shortly after Greta was born. He didn’t seem terribly sad, but I did sense an awkward pause coming so I jumped off the car and grabbed his hand.

Dragging him to the edge of the hill, I stopped short. I pointed to the fields below and next to me, Jake gasped. The corn was tall but that wasn’t what caught our attention. Swooping in and out of the stalks were thousands of fireflies, flickering on and off and lighting up the field. It was an amazing display of nature’s own light show.

This is amazing! he declared, squeezing my hand. I nodded, a little embarrassed because I had forgotten to let go. He didn’t seem to mind. How did you find this place? Do you live around here?

I live about forty-five minutes away but my roommate lives nearby, I explained. I found the place when I was waiting for her to get home one day.

Hang on, he said, turning to me. His face was close to mine, and it did funny things to my stomach. Maybe it was the burgers... How does your roommate live nearby but you don’t? How can you be roommates?

We’re roommates at school. We go to Meridian Valley. It’s a boarding school.

His lips curled in a delighted smile. Boarding school? Are you serious?

Yes, I said, releasing his hand to plant my fists on my hips. Do you have a problem with that?

No, he said, eyes shining with laughter. Is it for like…juvenile delinquents?

My breath hitched, and I took a swing at him. He anticipated it, though, and ducked neatly out of the way. That didn’t deter me in the least, and I took another step toward him, swinging again. He dodged my fist, laughing hysterically the whole time. But he ran out of real estate when he backed into the car. I grinned evilly and launched again. He grabbed my arm and held it above my head, capturing my other wrist when I raised it. He yanked, and I stumbled into his chest—his hard chest. He was taller than me, and I had to look up at him. His eyes were sparkling, and I couldn’t tell if they were the same piercing blue as on TV.

You’re way too easy, he chuckled.

My cheeks grew instantly hot as I ducked my head. I have never been accused of that in my entire life.

Laughing even harder, he loosened his hold on my wrists. "I didn’t mean that way! I meant easy to annoy. I tried to yank my wrists out of his hold, and he let me loose, grabbing my shoulders instead. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. How old are you … umm… I don’t even know your name."

It’s Isabella Ames, I spit, yanking my shoulders from his clutch. And I’m nearly eighteen.

Nearly as in when? he asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Two weeks. Why? Thinking about molesting me? I asked sarcastically. Not nice, I know, but I was pretty upset and utterly humiliated.

Please, he muttered. I don’t have to molest anyone. Did you see the girls chasing me back there?

Wrenching my shoulders out of his grip, I climbed on the hood of the car. I dug out my cell phone to check the time, eager to end the conversation. It was pretty late, or really early, depending on how you looked at it. He hopped up next to me, and we both settled on the windshield again.

I didn’t mean to embarrass you, he whispered.

You didn’t, I lied.

Do you need to be home or something?

No, I said with a half laugh. I proceeded to explain about Seth’s hotel room party. I’m in no hurry to get back.

He nodded. I understand. Our manager usually arranges all these after-party things, but I just wasn’t in the mood to attend tonight. So, I snuck out and grabbed a cab because I wanted something to eat. Stupid move on my part—I should have just hid out in my room.

Are you staying at the hotel where the concert was?

Yeah, he said stretching his arm behind me. It’s pretty nice.

It is, I said, eyeing him suspiciously as the Idaho hotel sprang to mind. . Don’t trash it, okay?

Geez, he said as he ran his hands through his thick, dark hair. I’ll never hear the end of that one, huh?

I sat up, gaping in disbelief. Did you really trash that hotel?

He flashed a crooked smile, making the skin around his eyes crinkle. My heart fluttered. Believe what you will, Iz.

Huh? I gawked at him, my mind a swirl of confusion. What is… Iz?

He closed his eyes and shrugged nonchalantly. Your name.

Just wonderful, I muttered, falling back to the windshield. I very much enjoy sarcasm.

Chuckling, he ruffled my hair. Tell me about your school.

I leaned against his outstretched arm, my own arm brushing his side. I prattled on about my school, my friends, and my classes. I glanced at him every few minutes to make sure I wasn’t boring him, but he really seemed enraptured by my descriptions.

Your parents must be loaded to afford that place, he mused.

They do okay, I guess, but my grandfather actually pays my tuition. He owns the law firm where my parents practice. After my grandmother died, he decided to spend his money on Seth and me. We’re his only grandchildren.

I bet your dad hates that, he said.

Not really. I mean, all that money will go to my dad someday anyway.

I guess, he said. He gave my shoulder a quick squeeze. Do your parents get along okay?

Ugh! Disgustingly well. They’re always off on second honeymoons. I winced a little bit. Yeah, it was nice that my parents were still in love all these years later, but it could sometimes be embarrassing.

And you and your brother are close? he asked.

Yeah, we are. We hang out a lot in the summer. He can be overprotective but not in an irritating sort of way, I explained.

Me and Greta are sort of close. We don’t really hang out a lot but we talk. She calls me when she needs to vent and stuff like that. I’m glad; helps me keep track of her.

How old is she?

A fond smile graced his lips. She’ll be nineteen in January. She’s starting her first year of college, but her school is in Chicago so she still lives with Dad. His smile widened. Dad is great. He’s close to us both. He’s always been so supportive of my career and never missed a gymnastics meet or dance recital of Greta’s. He paused to study the sky as a pleasant silence descended upon us. The night songs were fading, but the sun was still an hour or two away. Are you excited about your senior year?

Not really, I admitted. I was actually afraid it was going to be as boring as past years.

Why not?

I don’t know. It’s just another school year, I said, hoping he would get the hint in my voice.

It’s got to be a guy or something, he said as he sat up to study me better. He cocked his head, waiting for my reply.

No, I said as I ducked my head. I knew a blush was sure to follow.

He laughed and took my hands. Come on, Iz! Don’t tell me you’re shy? I continued to avoid his eyes and his laughter intensified. You’ve been rambling on and on to me all night!

That’s because I was nervous because you carjacked me! I defended. He continued to stare at me so I released my best Drama Club sigh. He can have pretty much any girl he wants.

Jake cupped my chin and stared into my eyes, sending my pulse into outer space. You’re a very pretty girl, Iz. All you need is a little self-confidence, and he’ll be eating out of your hand.

My cell rang, and I reluctantly pulled my chin out of his grasp as I yanked the phone out of my pocket. It was Seth. I groaned and answered. Yes, Seth? Need me to go on a beer run?

Jake raised a brow at my tone but I ignored him.

Where are you? Seth demanded.

I was hungry so I went for a burger. I’ll be back in a few.

Fine, Seth conceded. I cleared everyone out, and it’s nearly four in the morning. You need to get back now.

Yes, master, I muttered as I ended the call. Jake chuckled next to me. I have to go. It really is late.

Jake slid off the car and helped me down. I really didn’t need the help, but I loved the chivalrous gesture all the same. We climbed in the car, and I started the engine. I threw my phone on the dash. Jake snatched it.

Do you mind? he asked. I shook my head and heard a string of beeps but never actually heard him speak. Once he finished fiddling with the phone, he placed it on the dash and stared thoughtfully out his window.

When we made it back to the hotel, we caught an elevator without incident. My heart was heavy as I knew I had only minutes left in his presence. I didn’t want the magical night to end.

I programmed my cell number in your phone and yours in mine.

My eyes snapped to his as my mouth fell open. No way! I gasped. He grinned and nodded. I stared at the instrument in my hands, astonished it now contained such an important number.

The doors opened for my floor, and he positioned his body to keep them from closing. He pulled me into an impromptu hug. Thanks for a great night, Iz. I’ll call you. Winking, he placed a chaste kiss on my lips. He stepped back in the elevator and allowed the doors to shut. I stood there stunned, touching my lips softly - totally mesmerized by my first kiss.

Chapter Three

Quit organizing and get ready, Annie Conrad ordered. I paid her no heed as I studied my bookshelf. Tapping my finger against my chin, I considered switching all the books from their current alphabetical by author arrangement to alphabetical by title. Annie twirled me around, causing me to spill the books in my arms. Let’s go, Bella! The party started half an hour ago!

I stifled my irritated groan for the time being - I was sure there would be plenty of opportunity for it later. You drag me to this stupid thing every year and then abandon me as soon as the first cute guy looks your way.

A smattering of guilt touched her cheeks as I bent to collect my books, but she did a remarkable job pretending it didn’t exist. She planted her fists to her hips in my favorite pose, glaring. Come on! It’s fun and you know it! Besides, Dean and Lance will be there.

Okay, so she got me there. Lance Roberts is the most handsome boy on campus. I’ve had a crush on him since freshman year, but he hardly noticed me outside of the friendship thing.

Fine, fine, I’ll go. I plopped to my bed and dug my tennis shoes out from under it. I shoved them on my feet while Annie threw a mild fit.

You can’t go like that!

I finished tying my shoes and stood. I looked down at my t-shirt and jeans and frowned. They were clean and wrinkle free. What was the problem? Why not?

You have to change, she demanded.

No, I don’t, I said firmly. I think Annie and our other friend, Cammy, were on some secret mission to make me more girly. I truly hoped they’d fail. It’s dark outside, Annie. It’s a bonfire. Who’ll notice what I’m wearing?

Crossing her arms, she huffed, typical Annie response, and then grabbed a jacket. She, of course, looked amazing in her white denim skirt, pink tank and matching flip flops. If Lance noticed anyone it would be her. Let’s just go.

With a triumphant grin, I grabbed Jake’s hoodie. I’d forgotten to return it that night and even though I did feel a little guilty, I was glad to have some kind of souvenir. I’d only told Seth about my adventure, and after he’d lectured me for twenty minutes about how stupid I was to take a strange man to a secluded area, he quizzed me on everything Jake. I’m still not totally sure he believed me.

Is Camryn here yet? I asked as we crossed the campus, the chilly breeze toying with our hair. Cammy promised to get to school in time for the bonfire, but I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of her yet.

She wasn’t due to return from Ireland until last night I think, Annie mused as she looped her arm through mine, hurrying me toward the football field. She was supposed to call this morning but she didn’t. She probably forgot.

I snorted. Annie was more than likely right. Cammy could be a little bit of a space case from time to time. I hope she gets in tomorrow.

She will, Annie assured me. So, Krysti and Lance broke up.

I stopped in my tracks, jolting Annie in the process. What? When did this happen?

Annie’s glossy lips curved into a knowing grin. Apparently Krysti attended a Controlled Environment concert last Saturday, and rumor has it that she might have cheated on Lance with a roadie.

It took all of five seconds for me to drop to my knees and clutch my stomach as the laughter tickled my throat and spewed from my mouth. I don’t mean chuckle or giggle but deep belly laughs. All I could think about were the front row bimbos. I imagined Krysti as one of them, hopping up and down, begging for attention. Tears leaked from my eyes as I struggled to control myself. Annie leaned against a tree and studied her nails. That set me off in another fit of laughter which, thankfully, didn’t last as long. Finally, I got to my feet and wiped my eyes. Okay, better.

Annie raised a doubtful brow. You sure?

I chortled a bit and coughed to hide it. Yeah. It’s just that I went to the Controlled Environment concert, and I was imagining Krysti in the front row with the rest of the bimbos. I felt another bout of laughter and choked it back.

Her jaw nearly hit the ground. You went to the Controlled Environment concert? How? The tickets sold out within minutes!

Seth, I simply answered. Growling, she performed a perfect pirouette so she could stalk off, fuming.

It sucks that all I have are younger brothers and you get the cool, older one.

Yeah, I grinned, smug as could be. He comes in handy sometimes.

***

The bonfire was blazing, the flames reaching for the sky, by the time we made it to the football field. We located a couple of girls from our class near the coolers, and I grabbed a soda as Annie, in perfect form, caught up on all the gossip from the summer. It didn’t take long for Zach Washington to steal her attention, though, so I rolled my eyes and wandered away to the bleachers. I spotted Lance and Dean in the distance, talking to a couple of cheerleaders. My heart leapt to my throat. Lance seemed to have grown taller over the summer, if that was possible. His curly brown hair was cut shorter than usual, but it emphasized his chiseled features. His gray t-shirt stretched across his broad chest, and I couldn’t imagine a more beautiful male.

He’d never be interested in someone like me, I sighed. I was just too ordinary. Krysti was very curvy and pretty and full of pep. Me, not so much.

I pulled the hoodie over my head as the wind picked up – I was far enough from the bonfire to not benefit from the warmth. Just as I was yanking my ponytail from beneath the sweatshirt, my phone rang. I answered, frustrated, as my eyes strayed back to Lance.

Hello?

Hey, Iz, how are you? a deep voice rumbled in my ear.

My heart leapt and my stomach quivered. Jake! I squealed. How are you? Carjack anyone lately? I didn’t think you’d ever call!

He chuckled. Take a breath, angel.

Sorry, I mumbled as my cheeks flushed. How are you?

Tired. I’m trying to sleep in the back of a tour bus. It’s not easy - especially when your band mates are goofing off a couple feet from you. He yawned as if proving his point. What are you doing?

He did sound tired. The exhaustion in his voice caused my heart to ache. Sitting on the bleachers at a stupid bonfire at school. It’s really boring.

What are you doing on the bleachers? You should be mingling with your friends.

He obviously didn’t know me well. I was not much for socializing even with people who attended boarding school with me.