me. We didn’t agree on something—it’s why I was bummed last night. I’m afraid she’s mad at me, and I don’t know what to do.”
“Just give her some time to cool off. Ashlyn won’t hold a grudge. Especially not against you.” Troy put his hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze that sent zips of electricity from this touch to the center of her core. She wanted to throw her arms around him and have him hold her again, the way he did when he’d discovered her outside of the band room. Instead he dropped his hand, and the spot where it’d been suddenly felt too cold. “Anyway, I’ve got to go, but I’ll catch you later.”
It took her a moment to switch gears from lusting after him to the fact that he was taking off again. “Right. You have to go plan your underground resistance.” Another thought popped into her head, something to describe his odd behavior. It was a ridiculous idea, one that she worried might be the truth. “Or is it…something more illegal?” She told herself she should keep her mouth shut, but he was there for her, and she’d hate to see him ruin his life on something stupid. She lowered her voice. “Are you dealing drugs or something?”
Troy’s eyebrows scrunched together, the corners of his mouth tilting down. “You think I’m a drug dealer?”
“No. Yes. Well, I don’t know. I mean, how would I know? You’re always leaving mid-convo, in a hurry to get somewhere; you’ve managed to make friends with everyone; you carry sunglasses around—I was thinking you must carry them to hide the signs. It all kind of fits.”
“Ouch. I thought you knew me better than that.” He studied her for a moment and let out a long exhale. “I’m friends with everyone because I’m so charming.” He grinned to prove the point. “The dark glasses are because it’s sunny here in California. And as for where I’m always running off to…” He held out his hand. “Come on then. I guess it’s time to show you what I’ve been doing in my spare time.”
Summer slipped her hand into his, her heart fluttering when he automatically curled his fingers around it. He led her across the school grounds to the far back corner, where she’d had her crying break down a little over a week ago. He pushed open the door to the band room and walked in. Motes of dust floated in the beam of light from the doorway, the air stale because the room didn’t have near enough windows.
“Mrs. Wilkes lets me practice during lunch and after school,” Troy said.
Troy released her hand and moved to the lockers lining the wall. He retrieved a pair of drumsticks and sat down behind the drums. He sucked in a big breath, and then the sticks in his hands were moving across the surface, pounding out a rhythm. She moved closer as he played, feeling the beat vibrate across her skin. His eyes followed the quick movements, his brow wrinkled in concentration, and one corner of his mouth twitched up in an adorable half smile that changed with the beat. At the end of the song, he made a big booming finish, complete with tossing a stick in the air and catching it and an obligatory cymbal crash.
Troy grabbed the cymbal to silence it and shot her a devastatingly cute grin. “So, there you go. I play the drums.”
Summer ran her finger along the edge of the cymbal. “And why is this a big secret?”
“It’s not so much a secret as…Well, you know my mom would be horrified. She already hates that I’m always going to listen to bands play all the time—that I’m as into music as my dad was. At first I was just messing around. I tried the guitar first—not for me. But then I grabbed a pair of drumsticks, and from the first time I played, I was hooked. I’m not going to leave the people I love to do it, but I can see how easy it would be to get caught up in it.”
Summer placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’re a teenager in high school. You don’t have a family to take care of. It’s okay to pursue your dream.”
“I don’t think that’s what my mom will say.” He stared across the room for a moment, a million miles away. Then his eyes focused and he turned his attention back to the drums. “Okay, tell me what you think about this one I’ve been working on…” He banged out another rhythm, glancing over at her now and then as he played. Any second she’d turn into a puddle of a girl on the floor—as if he wasn’t hard enough to resist
“Imagine it with some guitar mixed in, and you’ve got a song.”
Summer grinned at him. “You’re making magic.”
He titled his head. “Magic?”
“Music can transport you to another time with a couple of notes. It makes you feel the heartbreak or the love, right along with the singer. The right song speaks to your soul in a way nothing else can. It’s magic,” she whispered. Heat crept into her cheeks. She’d always believed that about music, but even in all her gush sessions with Troy, she’d never vocalized it like that.
Luckily, he nodded, a huge smile stretched on his perfect lips. “I couldn’t have put it better myself, Sunshine.”
Summer held out her hands. “Okay, hand over your sticks. I’ve always thought I should dye my hair hot pink and join a band. I probably should learn an instrument because I know I’ll never be a vocalist.”
Troy gave her the drumsticks and moved to the side.
Summer sat down and banged on the drums, thinking anything she did would sound at least semi- awesome. Instead, it sounded like a mess. “Hmm, it’s harder than it looks. That was pretty awful.”
“Hit it lighter. Hold the sticks loose, like this…” Troy slid behind her and put his arms around her to demonstrate how to hold the drumsticks.
Suddenly, she could care less about the drums. Their bodies were touching almost everywhere, his thighs pressed against the outside of hers, his chest against her back. She felt it rise and fall with his breaths, felt the exhale fall from his lips and stir her hair.
“Now hit this like…” Troy guided her hand, using it to tap the snare. His lips brushed her cheek when he spoke, sending a pleasant chill down her spine. “See, that sounds better. Try it out.”
Using her wrist to flick the drumstick, she repeated the hit. “Like that?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder to look at Troy. Only a few inches separated their lips. Her heart thumped once. Twice. Before she overthought and blew the moment, she decided to go for it. She closed the gap and pressed her mouth to his. Both sticks clattered to the ground as she twisted toward him. His hand slid behind her neck, pulling her closer. Heat coiled through her body as she parted her lips and deepened the kiss. He slipped his tongue into her mouth, running it across her top lip.
Someone pushed against the door, the sound echoing off the walls.
Summer jumped up as people burst into the room. She was so dizzy from the kiss that she had to steady herself on a nearby chair. It took a couple of seconds for her brain to kick into gear.
“Crap, I’ve got to get to my next class.” She glanced at Troy, who was staring up at her, a stunned look on his face. “I’ll, um, see you later.”
She rushed down the steps, pushed past a few stunned-looking freshmen trying to get into the room, and sprinted all the way to her next class. Mrs. Crawford was closing the door as Summer slipped inside. She fell into her desk, gasping for air. She didn’t have any of her materials, but she didn’t care.
All practice, the girls’ barbed remarks didn’t get to Summer. The insults simply bounced off her. Troy saturated her thoughts, blurring all her other problems. Her gut wouldn’t let her forget she needed to make things right with Ashlyn, though—she planned on calling her the second she got done with practice. Make that when she got home. Driving and talking on your cell could get you pulled over.
As soon as practice let out, Summer walked outside, already formulating her apology to Ashlyn. When she saw Troy’s Jeep in the parking lot, her stomach got all fluttery, and her lips burned again with the memory of that kiss in the band room today. She pulled out her phone, thinking she’d call and see if he was almost done practicing his drums. Maybe even see if he’d like to give her another lesson.
Then she saw Troy.
And the volleyball player.
Summer’s heart dropped as she watched them talking and flirting.
