The next week was a mixture of heaven and hell on earth between Paige’s wrath and Reid’s healing lips. My parents were pissed. She wasted no time telling them I was shacking up with Reid. I avoided their calls. Paige glared at us both from a distance while keeping hers. She refused to speak to either of us. As soon as we clocked in on the same shift, I could feel the heat wave she let off. Reid tried to approach her a few days after she kicked me out, but she just walked away and embarrassed him. We were completely screwed in our footing. I wasn’t welcome back to her house, and she made it known by telling my parents everything, which put me in the doghouse with them as well.
I avoided it all, completely fixated on my bubble with Reid. When I got to The Plate Bar, I went straight to work, doing my best to avoid Paige as we all scurried around like mice trying to tame the dinner rush. But that Friday, we were so busy at one point Paige got temporary amnesia, and we worked together to get through it. My hopes of any sort of truce were dashed when an hour after the doors closed, she slammed her hands into Reid’s chest and yelled at him without an ounce of restraint.
“My sister? You. Fucking. Asshole! You just couldn’t help yourself, could you? Well, you wanted her, you got her!”
Leslie came out of her office and nipped it in the bud, but Paige’s tear-filled and angry eyes were enough to silence us both until we reached the parking lot. Reid had a Chevy truck that was ten years older than I was and had just been repainted black. The repairs from the accident had taken forever because the car was considered a classic. The AC barely blew enough air to cool us both, and the switch was one of those you had to push to the right with your finger to amp it up. But he loved that truck. It was obvious. The cabin was clean and in decent shape. It wasn’t what I pictured him driving, but when he chauffeured me around in it, I couldn’t see him in anything else.
I stared at his profile as he took us through the streets that led us back to safety, away from the scrutiny of my sister. “Why is she doing this?” I asked
Reid drove silently for a few minutes. “Because she loves me, but she thinks I’m a piece of shit, Stella.”
Once we pulled up, we sat in his truck. A silent relief radiated between us both.
“And you believe her,” I stated and turned to face him on the bench seat.
“Nope, no, we’re not arguing tonight,” he said as he leaned in and took my lips before he pulled the key out the ignition and gripped the door handle. “Don’t believe her,” I said as he ignored me and got out of the truck. I wasn’t having it. I met him at his stairs. “Reid, look at me,” I demanded. His tired eyes met mine as I laid my hands on his chest. “Believe me, not her. Not what goes on inside that head of yours. Believe me.”
“Stella, it’s not that easy.”
“It is that easy. You aren’t who you were yesterday or the day before. Believe that. You are not your circumstances. You aren’t that empty apartment.” I nodded toward the door. “That isn’t who you are.”
I stood one step above so we were eye level.
He pushed a piece of hair from my lips and brushed it past my shoulders. “And who do you think I am, Stella?”
“You’re the band nerd who grew up to be a rock star. This is just the in between.”
I got a smirk.
“And who are you?”
“I’m the woman who’s going to watch it happen. I’m the woman with a huge I told you so on the edge of her tongue.”
Reid hoisted me over his shoulder, and I yelped as he slapped my ass. “Enough with the pep talk I didn’t ask for, Grenade.”
“I’m starting to love that nickname.” Love you. Starting to love you, Reid.
Later that night, I peeked over my laptop to watch Reid pace his apartment and smoke like he was about to get on an overseas flight. He’d gotten off the phone with his mother an hour before the march started and refused to talk to me. From what I gathered, his dad was getting worse. I was too afraid to push. Far too unsure of what my place was, if I had any at all. Reid hadn’t said a word about the fact that I’d been there for days. He knew it was just a matter of time before I got my own apartment. Still, he was quiet when the pacing stopped. He scribbled in his notebooks and chain-smoked on his balcony. I wondered if we hadn’t gotten busted by Paige if I would even be here, if I would be welcome. But then his dark eyes would find mine in the space between us and he’d give me that smirk, and I just knew. We were okay. It was okay.
“When are you going to let me look at your music?” I asked as he sat on the concrete on his balcony, boots crossed, cigarette in his mouth, pen in hand.
He shrugged and kept writing.
“You’re probably drawing puppies anyway.”
He ran his hands through his hair and sighed. Even though he was blatantly ignoring me so I would shut up, I couldn’t help it. I smiled. And then I found someone else to pester.
Hey, Ben’s bitch! What’s the good word?
Lexi: I’m nobody’s bitch. Days. I’ll be there in days!
Ten!
Lexi: Days sounds better. How is it going?
I feel weird being here. It’s like he has to keep me because we had sex. How screwed up is this? I’ll never forgive Paige. Seriously, I hate her right now. I’m setting out on foot tomorrow to find a place and it will be done. I have two places in mind.
Lexi: Is he worth it?
He’s sad and he’s beautiful. I’m done with musicians. That’s what I said, remember? And you didn’t bother to remind me of that. I’m sitting on a floor staring at him. That’s how it’s going.
Lexi: You are so going to fall for him.
Maybe. But Ben’s waiting on you to get here and you are looking pretty screwed yourself.
Lexi: Are we groupies?
No. We are music enthusiasts who occasionally sleep with musicians. We aren’t quite Meg Ryan playing Pam Courson giving Jim Morrison head in the sound booth.
Lexi: I would totally do that.
You’re a groupie. No doubt.
Lexi: Tomorrow makes nine days.
Love you, bitch.
Lexi: X
“Now let me see what you just texted,” Reid said, standing above me.
“What?” I looked up and my smile slipped. “How the hell did you sneak up on me like that?”
“Don’t change the subject. Let me see it,” he said, cupping his hand in front of my face in wait.
“Uh, no,” I said, quickly shoving my phone down my pants.
He arched a brow. “You think I won’t go after that? Read it . . . out loud.”
“No way, man,” I said, shooting to my feet and putting the island between us.
Reid seemed satisfied as he watched my chest heave. “My songs are just as personal to me until I’m ready to share them.” He gave up, victorious.
“Fine. I’ll read it out loud,” I said to his retreating back.
I looked like an idiot pulling my phone from my pants, and I caught his smirk. I cleared my throat, scanned the text, and slumped in defeat. I saw groupies, whores, and head in a booth. “Never mind, carry on.”
His loud laugh was the best part of that day.
Well, that and the fact that an hour later, he found his way into my phone holster.
1,2,3,4
Plain White T’s
“You really don’t have to do this,” I said to Reid as he sat in his truck, waiting on the address. “I can find my way around.”
“Where to, Stella?”
I gave him the name of the street and he nodded. “You know where this is?”
“I do.”
“Is it a decent area?”
“For you, it’s safe enough.”
“Enough?”
“Safe is an illusion, Stella,” he said as he turned on the radio.
“I see you’ve had your morning box of Lucky Charms.” He cut his eyes at me and pulled out of the parking lot. We asked Leslie to schedule our shifts as close together as possible for the next week. It took little maneuvering due to Paige’s outburst, and she agreed, but only after giving us a lecture on leaving our personal shit at our front door.
Reid and I had both been humiliated and punished for our decision. And as the days passed, I was starting to care less and less about how everyone else felt. Except for Reid. In his company, I couldn’t shut up. Under his stare, I’d never felt so beautiful. And beneath him . . .
“What?” he asked as I grinned at my window. “I can see you smiling.”
“I was just thinking about Jim Morrison.”
Reid wasn’t buying it. “Jim Morrison?”
“Yeah, he was fascinating. And you’re kind of like him in a way. He was shy. He didn’t like to perform at first, always had his back to the audience when he was singing. But then he became notorious.”
Reid shook his head.
“I want to visit his grave in Paris. Bucket list.”
“He had some good tunes.”