Chapter 17
Heard a noise, I check to see.
“Lynda,” he says, as I stumble back. “I’m glad I found you. I’m sorry, did I scare you?”
I can’t hide the fear from my face and he stops, his grimace changing to a grin. I take a few steps back and look around, but no one’s in sight.
Why is he holding his hands behind his back?
“I loved the show tonight.” He stares at me, waiting for a response, but I take another step back. “You were better tonight. Mesmerizing.”
“I have to go,” I mutter and take another step back.
“I just—I wanted to see if you’d sign your autograph on my version of Away With You? I have the whole band’s signatures and I wanted to add yours, too.”
The thought of getting close to him—no, I can’t.
My phone vibrates and Taylor’s message appears: On the street across the road from the front door.
Howard’s arm moves, revealing the album, and holds it out to me. He produces a Sharpie from his other hand, just like the guy in the crowd did. I don’t want to be rude, but I don’t want to be alone with him anymore, either. My chest tightens and I don’t know what to say—how to get out of it.
“Please?” he asks. “I just know you’re going to be famous someday. It would mean a lot.”
Am I ungrateful if I don’t do it? My dad always taught me to be gracious through his own interactions with fans, but he spoke to Byron a handful of times, and could have never realized how close he was coming to a psycho.
The thought sends chills across my body and I turn away from him. “I’m sorry, not tonight.”
His creepy smile remains. “Maybe tomorrow night?”
I keep turning around and march through the dark parking lot, my head held high, until I reach the street. I turn back, and he’s still standing there amongst all the cars, watching me. Why is he doing that? Which car is his?
I need more distance from him. I can’t wait around to see if he gets into a black car with tinted windows.
Cars drive both ways on the busy street in front of me, and I wait for a break from the stoplight, dashing between them across the street to Taylor’s car.
I open the door, and before I duck in, I hear his voice. “Wow, nice costume! That blood looks real. What are you? A sexy zombie bride?”
“Sure,” I huff, ducking in and pulling the rest of my dress in with me. “We’ll go with that.” I slam the door shut and lean back against the seat, catching my breath.
“How was the show?” he asks.
“Fine,” I say in a breathy whisper.
He grips the steering wheel and turns to me. “Sorry I couldn’t make it. I’m totally coming tomorrow night, though.”
I finally turn to him. He’s wearing an outfit that’s similar to the other night, and he smells the same, too, but it doesn’t have the same effect on me. It’s like the connection’s been lost between us.
He reaches for my hand and I pull away. I can’t just lose myself with him like I did the other night after what just happened with Howard—or maybe because of what Jamie told me.
He turns back, facing forward, giving me space.
“Are you dressing up for Halloween tomorrow?” I ask.
He cocks his head to the side with a little smile. “I’m not really the dress-up type.”
“Too cool for it?” I shoot him a look and smirk.
He shrugs and leans against his seat with a smirk of his own.
“I think I’m going as Samara tomorrow night.” I tuck my hair behind my ear and he moves his hand to the gear stick and puts it in drive. “The band’s doing a whole horror theme-thing.”
“Nice.” He checks his side mirror, glances over his shoulder, and pulls away from the curb with more speed than I expected.
“You don’t know who Samara is, do you?” I laugh and he shakes his head with a smile. “The girl from The Ring.” He presses his lips together with a little smile and glances at me. “From the well?”
He shrugs. “I don’t do horror.”
I turn to look out the window as we drive through the city, clutching my bag in my lap.
“So, how’s it going with the band?” he asks.
“Getting better, I think.” I turn to him. “Do you know any of them?”
“A couple, yeah.” His expression doesn’t change, staring at the road ahead.
“Like who?”
“I know the girls a bit.” He shrugs and glances at me from the corner of his eye.
“Oh yeah, how do you know them?”
He scratches his head. “Just from around.”
“Did you ever have a thing with Pascha?”
He frowns and turns his head toward me without facing me, staring at the road as we merge onto the highway. “No. Why?”
Do I play coy? Do I even care if he’s been with her? Do I even want to be with him again?
“Whatever.” I sigh. “We don’t have to talk about it.”
“No, tell me why you’re asking.”
“It’s something I heard, actually.”
“Nah, we never hung out like that.”
He seems unbothered. Is he lying or is Jamie?
“That’s weird.” I can’t hide the edge to my tone.
“You don’t believe me?”
“If you say you haven’t been with her, I believe you. I just don’t know why someone would lie about that.”
“People think they know things,” he mutters. “Gossip and that shit.”
“I guess.”
He turns up the music, and for the rest of the drive on the highway, we’re both quiet. All the excitement I had to see him has dissipated. I don’t even want to ask him in. Do I believe him? What happened to our chemistry? Is it because I’m wearing my wedding dress? Did I just have a
