Senior Week Crush Page 8

  Whatever he saw in my expression stopped him just as he was about to speak. He studied me closer, his brows furrowing in concern. “Hey, are you okay?”

  Before I could answer. No, I’m not okay. It wasn’t supposed to be you! Mattie’s voice behind me interrupted.

  “Oh my God, you guys were amazing!” And just like that, I was swept up in a crushing hug before Mattie turned to Jack and all but tackled him with an embrace.

  Mattie’s constant chatter broke the tension as we cleared out our gear and loaded it into Jack’s truck. I avoided Jack’s searching looks, but I could feel his eyes on me just as surely as if he was touching me.

  With Mattie filling the silences, my brain was free to overanalyze to its heart’s content. Were all kisses like that? Heady and euphoric and freakin’ hot as hell? Was it just adrenaline talking or had he really been attracted to me? Why had I kissed him back? What had come over me?

  Ugh, where was Amy when I needed someone to analyze with? She would know the answers, she’d kissed guys before. She hadn’t been saving herself for the one, only to cave to some jackass she barely knew.

  Disappointment and confusion and other emotions too complicated to name had me staring silently out the truck window as we drove back to Mattie’s apartment. It was stupid to get so worked up over this but I couldn’t help it. I was a romantic through and through. I’d been dreaming about my first kiss for so long that it had started to become something more than the physical act. It was the sign of true love. It was supposed to signal the start of my epic love story—with Dylan.

  I managed to avoid Jack’s prying eyes for a while after we returned. With Mattie around, it was easy enough. She didn’t seem to notice anything was amiss, chattering excitedly as she got ready for bed and pulled out blankets and an air mattress for me and Jack.

  The plan was for Jack to take the couch and me to take the air mattress. Nothing inappropriate but still way too intimate for my liking. The living room wasn’t big and we’d be basically sleeping right next to each other, just on different surfaces.

  Jack silently helped me set up the air mattress while Mattie gathered spare sheets and pillows. Her energy was boundless, it seemed, and her excitement over our apparent success was palpable.

  I slid Jack a look from the corner of my eye. Was he happy with the way it had gone? I was almost certain he was, but it was hard to tell now judging by his unreadable, stoic expression. He turned toward me to grab one of the pillows and I quickly turned away, heading to the bathroom to brush my teeth and change into pajamas.

  Thank God I’d brought an oversized T-shirt in addition to that ridiculously small camisole. There was no way I could have strutted out of there sporting that revealing top and little short shorts when we were basically sleeping together.

  By the time I came out, makeup scrubbed off, teeth brush and hair pulled back into a ponytail, Mattie had disappeared into her bedroom and Jack was reading on the couch. He didn’t look up and I futzed around with my toiletries, putting things away and rearranging my bag as if the sovereignty of our nation depended on it.

  When I couldn’t avoid it any longer, I turned around and headed to my air mattress, slipping beneath the sheets quickly, despite the fact that Jack had closed his eyes, the paperback sprawled open on his chest as if he’d passed out while reading.

  I tried not to look at him, but the light was still on—it was closest to him—and I could see him clearly. I could study him, even, given the fact that his eyes were closed.

  He was attractive. There’d never been any doubt about that. He didn’t have the classic good looks of Dylan, of course, but there was no denying he was hot in an edgier, rougher way.

  Definitely in an out-of-my-league kind of way. I curled up on my side, facing Jack so I could study his profile in the dim light. I wasn’t trying to be harsh on myself. It wasn’t like I thought I was a dog. And maybe if I always dressed up like I had tonight I’d be in his league. But right now, with no makeup, no form-fitting outfit—I was just me. And he was… well, he was Jack. There was nothing “just” about Jack.

  “Admiring the view?” Jack’s low murmur startled me out of my thoughts and my cheeks burned with humiliation as I realized that he knew I’d been watching him like a creeper.

  I rolled onto my back, staring up at the ceiling.

  The silence in the room was palpable. I could hear my heartbeat and the sound of air-conditioning buzzing in the background. I became distinctly aware of the sound of my breathing and soon I was too focused on it, making me feel like I couldn’t drag in enough oxygen.

  I swallowed and tried for even, steady breaths.

  What I got was borderline hyperventilation.

  The silence was suffocating me, as was the all the unspokenness going on between us. There was an elephant in the room in the shape of a kiss and if we didn’t talk about it, if we didn’t talk about something, I was sure I was going to explode.

  “Why did you kiss me?” The words came tumbling out before I could stop them.

  I turned my head so I could see Jack again, and though his eyes didn’t open, I watched as his lips slowly curved up.

  I’m not gonna lie, it was sexy. Crap. I didn’t want to find him sexy. He was Jack. The wrong guy, I reminded myself.

  “Because I wanted to,” he said.

  Then his eyes did snap open and his head turned so our gazes locked. It happened so quickly I didn’t have time to look away. And then, once his gaze met mine, I couldn’t have looked away if I’d wanted to. His gaze was piercing and something about that intensity made it feel as though I couldn’t avert my eyes. He’d honed in on me like a laser and now I was stuck, caught in the crosshairs.

  “Why did you kiss me back?” His face gave nothing away. He didn’t so much as smirk. Right about now, I would’ve settled for a smirk. Heck, I would have been glad for one, because a smirk would have meant that he was laughing at me for making too big a deal out of it.

  He wasn’t smirking and he wasn’t laughing. It was impossible to know what he was thinking, about me, about the kiss. Because I wanted to. What kind of answer was that? Had he always wanted to or was it more of a swept up in the moment kind of want?

  I couldn’t bring myself to ask, and I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t have answered. He was still waiting for me to speak. Why had I kissed him back?

  I don’t know!

  But that didn’t seem like a good enough answer. I nibbled on my lower lip as I tried to rehash what had happened, replaying those brief moments when we’d gone off stage. The adrenaline had been pumping, my body had been pulsing with that electric thrill that only came with being on the stage.

  And with being kissed by Jack.

  No. That wasn’t possible.

  He raised his brows in a silent prompt for an answer.

  I took a deep breath, pulling the blanket up so it was to my chin. Clearly it had been the buzz from performing. It must have carried over, and when Jack kissed me, I confused the thrill of a live performance with the thrill of his kiss.

  There. That explanation calmed me a bit and I was finally able to speak. “I was swept up in the moment, I guess.”

  After a heartbeat more of that solemn staring, he finally gave me that smirk that I typically loathed.

  But while I sighed in relief, I also felt my stomach sink at his silent mockery. Maybe it was because I didn’t know why he was laughing at me, only that he was. Maybe he didn’t believe me, or maybe he thought I was lying, or…

  Or, maybe it didn’t matter, I reminded myself. Rolling over once more, I stared up at the ceiling, ignoring his gaze altogether.

  My explanation made sense—more than his, at least—and it also helped to ease some of the guilt I’d been feeling. And yes, I knew it was stupid to feel like I’d cheated on Dylan. We weren’t a couple… yet. But I had felt guilt, not to mention disappointment in myself for caving to that odd spur of the moment temptation when I was supposed to be here winning over the love of my li
fe.

  But my reasoning helped me to explain away my actions, to Jack and also to myself. Of course I’d gotten swept away. That kind of raw, pulsating energy from the music and the crowd—I’d never felt anything like it. My performances on stage up until that point had come close, but they’d never been so, so… passionate. So wild. There had been something so visceral about it all, I’d been consumed by the feel of the music, the sounds of the crowd, the sight of Jack on his guitar and the crowd dancing with abandon.

  I let out a sigh without meaning to. “I had fun tonight.”

  He didn’t respond right away and I turned my head to see him. He was still watching me but his little smile didn’t seem so mocking.

  “Good,” he said at last. And then he rolled away from me and muttered under his breath so I almost didn’t hear. “Me too.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The club where the songwriter auditions were to take place looked dingy by day. My guess was it looked cool and hip at night in dim lights, but in the afternoon, it smelled like cleaning fluid and stale beer, looked like it could use a good scrub down, and was jam-packed with fellow anxious-looking musicians of varying ages. Just going off their appearances, my guess was they were of varying musical backgrounds as well. Some looked like rappers, while others looked like they’d just fallen off the country music bandwagon.

  One thing they all had in common? They all looked nervous as hell. Some hid it better than others, but the room stank of perspiration and fear. It was almost like being backstage opening night, except no one was talking to one another. If they came in pairs, like Jack and I did, then they might be murmuring quietly between themselves, but everyone was studiously ignoring the competition.

  I turned to Jack, expecting him to crack a joke about the cowboy sitting across from us, or maybe tease me for the way I couldn’t stop pulling down Mattie’s leather skirt, which felt ridiculously short, especially given the air-conditioning. Basically, I expected Jack to be Jack.

  But when I caught sight of his tense jaw and the tightness around his eyes, I realized that Jack was not Jack. At least, he wasn’t the Jack I knew. He wasn’t smug, or irritable, or bossy… though he was still sexy. My mind flashed back to the night before and the kiss, which was never far from my mind despite the fact that we’d avoided talking about it all morning and were acting like it had never happened.

  No, Jack was nervous.

  I wanted to tease him about it—I mean, fair was fair. He’d done little but mock me from day one and here, now, the cocky jerk was finally the weak one. But, much as he might’ve deserved it, I couldn’t bring myself to tease him.

  He was nervous, and I supposed he had every right to be. His future was on the line.

  I’m a little embarrassed to admit that it wasn’t until that moment that I thought to wonder what exactly the winner won, if anything. Was this just a showcase to get in front of producers or was it a competition to win something specific.

  I thought to ask Jack now, but decided against it. There’d be plenty of time to chat on the hour and a half ride to the shore and, in the meantime, it didn’t make a difference. Not to me, at least. And for Jack, the last thing he needed was to focus on what was at stake.

  He needed to focus on… well, anything else, really.

  I nudged his knee with mine, no real plan in mind except to get him out of his head. “Hey.”

  He turned to face me but had to blink a few times before his eyes focused on me. He looked expectant, waiting for me to follow up on my eloquent ‘hey.’ I tried to think of what I would say to Amy if they were waiting around for an art competition. “What are we going to do to celebrate after?”

  He looked confused for a second before a flicker of a smile appeared and I felt a surge of triumph that was way out of proportion to the moment.

  Then his attitude seemed to shift again just as quickly. “Why, are you worried I’m going to kiss you again?”

  My cheeks were on fire in an instant but I tried to ignore it. Something told me this was less about teasing me and more about distracting himself. Besides, avoiding the topic had been awkward in a whole different way. Since I’d been thinking about that stupid kiss all morning, it was weirdly a relief to have it out in the open. “That’s not what I meant.”

  His grin was a satisfyingly cocky smirk. It wasn’t like I was missing the arrogant, entitled Jack of my nightmares, but I kind of needed him right now. That super confident Jack was the one who’d calmed me down before our big gig the night before. He was the one who’d talked me into singing for him in the first place.

  He was the one who’d kissed me, a little voice whispered, just in case I’d forgotten.

  I hadn’t forgotten.

  “Don’t worry,” Jack said with that little smirk. “It won’t happen again.”

  “Good.” I said it quickly, automatically, even though his words stung a bit. Which was stupid, I know, but I guess rejection hurts no matter what, even if you don’t want the one you’re rejecting. I mean, everyone wants to be wanted, right?

  Ugh. I was confusing myself.

  “Good,” Jack repeated, his eyes never leaving my face.

  I ducked my head. My face needed some time away from Jack’s intense stare. More specifically, my cheeks needed a breather before they burst into flames.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  My head shot up, fiery cheeks forgotten as I stared wide-eyed at the miracle of all miracles that had just transpired in front of me. Jack Abrams had apologized. “Y-you’re sorry?”

  He nodded. “You seemed pretty freaked out last night and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable around me, especially since you’re doing… this for me.” He gestured to the room at large and I knew without a doubt that this was his way of saying he was grateful I was here.

  A weird warm feeling washed over me, something gooey and sweet, and not even in the same universe as my typical emotions around Jack. It was something like friendship, maybe.

  He turned to face the stage, his expression shifting to a cocky look I knew well. “Besides, if I’d known how bent out of shape you’d get over a stupid kiss, I would never have touched you.”

  All warm, fuzzy feelings did an immediate and abrupt about-face. I recognized the mocking tone in his voice. He was teasing, I knew he was teasing, but it still stung. Maybe it was because I felt silly for making too big a deal out of a kiss, or maybe it was because he’d called the kiss ‘stupid.’ Altogether, the words had me more upset than they should.

  Pride beat out the other raging emotions and I found myself lying. “I wasn’t bent out of shape.” And it wasn’t a stupid kiss.

  Or was it? I didn’t know, but I hated the way he dismissed it like it meant absolutely nothing. It was a big deal to me, whether it made sense or not.

  He turned his head slightly to see me, one brow raised in disbelief. “Really? Because you seemed pretty freaked.” He shifted to face me, that smug grin taunting and terrible. “Was that your first kiss or something?”

  My eyes widened in horror. How did he know?

  His gaze met mine and two things happened at once. I realized that he’d just been teasing.

  And Jack figured out that he was right.

  I prayed for the ground to open up and swallow me whole as a whole world of emotions flickered across Jack’s face, so fast and fleeting I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

  Heck, I didn’t even know what I was thinking.

  I knew what I was feeling, though. Mortified. Embarrassed that he knew, and hurt that he’d dismissed my first kiss as if it meant absolutely nothing, and angry that it didn’t mean absolutely nothing to me.

  Only because it was my first kiss. And only because I’d been saving that moment for Dylan. That was why it had been so meaningful.

  Jack leaned forward and his voice cut into my rationalizations. “Layla, I—”

  “Jack Abrams, you’re up,” a voice from the side of the stage called out, making me j
ump and Jack’s attention snap back to the front of the room.

  There was no time for talking after that. There was no time to think or worry or even get nervous, as we were hustled up onto the stage.

  We were first. The first act. In front of a room full of competitors, I sang and Jack played. I knew the producers were out there but I wasn’t sure where. Despite the dingy setup, the stage lights were on, making it difficult to see.

  For that, I was grateful, because at this show there would be no crowd dancing, only people judging.

  But I wasn’t nervous this time. Not as nervous, at least. When I glanced over at Jack he didn’t look nervous either, not like he had before.

  I drew in a deep breath and turned to face the microphone. Well, at least that humiliating revelation had done the trick. I’d well and truly distracted Jack from his nerves.

  For me… I shut my eyes for one long moment and listened as Jack played the opening chords to a song I was starting to know so well it felt like a part of my soul.

  Channeling the rock goddess persona wasn’t hard this time, I slipped into the character like she was my second skin. When I opened my eyes and faced out into the lights, I was her. Layla James, rock star goddess. And for the second time, I felt the music, I lived it. It may sound cheesy, but I felt the connection to Jack. My gaze never moved his way, but we communicated in the music, his guitar and my voice perfectly synchronized, reading one another in a way that can’t be spelled out with trebles and clefts.

  Jack was allotted two songs, one up-tempo and one ballad, to show off his songwriting prowess. When the last notes of the ballad faded out, we were done. In complete contrast to the night before, there was no euphoric applause and dizzying kiss backstage. There was some tepid clapping from the other contestants as we hurried out into the blinding sunlight.

  It was all pretty anticlimactic, really. We agreed in murmured assurances that the songs had gone well, but there was no telling how it had gone over with the producers and they weren’t going to announce the winners for weeks. Since there was no need to stick around and watch the others, we didn’t.