Shawn Scarlett stands to Adam’s right, his talented fingers shredding lead guitar, his messy black hair wild over deep green eyes locked on the vibrating strings. Heat dances up the back of my neck, and Kale mutters, “He’s not even the hottest one.”
I ignore him and command my feet to move, carrying me around the pool to where a huge crowd is gathered to watch the band. In my combat boots, torn-up jeans, and loose tank top, I’m severely overdressed standing behind bikini-clad cheerleaders who wouldn’t know the difference between a Fender and a Gibson even if I smashed both over their bleach-stained skulls.
The song ends with me standing on my tippy-toes trying to see over bouncing heads, and I turn on Kale with a huff when the band thanks the crowd and starts packing up their stuff.
“Can we go home now?” Kale asks. I shake my head. “Why not? The show’s over.”
“That’s not why I came.”
Kale’s gaze burrows under my skin, and he reads my mind. “You’re seriously going to try to talk to him?”
I nod as we walk away from the crowd.
“And say what?”
“I haven’t figured that out yet.”
“Kit,” Kale cautions, his navy-blue Chuck Taylors slowing to a stop, “what do you expect to happen?” He looks at me with sad dark eyes, and I wish we were standing closer to the pool so I could push him in and wipe that expression off his face.
“I don’t expect anything.”
“Then why bother?”
“Because I have to, Kale. I just have to talk to him, even if it’s just to tell him how much he changed my life, okay?”
Kale sighs, and we both let the conversation go. He knows that Shawn is more than just a teenage crush to me. The first time I ever saw him play guitar was at a school talent show when we were both still in junior high. I was in fifth grade, he was in eighth, and he and Adam put on an acoustic performance that gave me goose bumps from my fingers to my toes. They both sat on stools with guitars on their laps, with Adam singing lead vocals and Shawn singing backup, but the way Shawn’s fingers danced over the strings, and the way he lost himself in the music—he took me with him, and I got lost too. I convinced my parents to buy me a used guitar the next week, and I started taking lessons. Now, my favorite thing to do will forever be linked with the person who taught me to love it, the person I fell in love with that day in the junior-high gym.
Love, as much as I hate to admit it. The kind that makes me ache. The kind that would probably be better kept secret since I know it will only break my heart.
I know I’m fucked, and yet an undeniable part of me still needs him to know what he did for me, even if I don’t tell him what he is to me.
With my body on auto-walk and my mind a million miles away, Kale and I find Solo cups in the kitchen and head toward the keg out back, my thoughts slowly coming back to the present. I’ve had beer with my brothers before, but I’ve never operated a keg, so I watch a few people fill their cups before me to make sure I don’t make myself look like an idiot when it’s my turn at the tap. I nervously pick it up, fill my cup and Kale’s, and then wander Adam’s property while my brother and I begin our underage drinking. Adam’s yard is big enough to be a public park, surrounded by a wrought-iron fence that protects the pool, a few large oaks, and enough teenagers to fill the school gym. I spare a glance at my brother and follow his gaze to a group of guys laughing by the side of the pool.
“He’s cute,” I offer, nodding my head toward the one that Kale is now pretending not to have been staring at, a cute tan boy in Hawaiian board shorts and flip-flops.
“He is,” Kale challenges with feigned indifference. “You should go talk to him.”
I give my twin a look, he gives me one back, and I say, “Don’t you ever want a boyfriend?”
“You do realize Bryce is still hanging around here somewhere, right?”
I scoff. “So?”
Kale gives me a look that says it all, and I try not to let him see how much his refusal bothers me. It’s not that I don’t love being the one who keeps his secrets—it’s just that I hate that this is one he feels needs to be kept.
“So if Shawn isn’t the hottest one,” I say to change the subject, “who is?”
“Are you blind?” Kale asks while pushing his face close to mine to inspect my eyes. I use my free hand to push his forehead away.
“They’re all pretty cute.”
A girl nearby screams bloody murder as the boy in board shorts picks her up and jumps in the pool. Kale watches them and sighs.
“So which one?” I ask again to distract him.
“Mount Everest.”
I chuckle. “You’re only saying that because Adam is a man-whore. He’s the only one you could probably get to switch teams.”
“Maybe,” Kale says with a tinge of sadness in his voice, and I frown before taking his cup to the keg to refill it. I’m squeezing the tap when he elbows me in the arm.