I can’t stop laughing. “Please, you’d love it. You’d follow me on tour just to steal the mic during rehearsals.”
“Guilty,” he admits with a grin, his fingers moving effortlessly across the strings. The sound fills the empty music room, warm and alive, and for a moment I forget about Maya’s glare, about school, about everything except the way Vincent always knows how to make me laugh—even when I’m supposed to be sulking.
He glances sideways at me, that crooked grin still tugging at his lips. “See? You’re smiling again. Mission accomplished.”
“You should learn to singLady Marmalade. That would make me the happiest person alive,” I giggle, nudging him with my shoulder.
He tilts his head, pretending to think it over, then flashes me that crooked grin. “If it means you never stop smiling like that... I just might.”
And just like that, he dives fully back into the song, his voice smooth and unguarded, as if the whole world could crumble and he’d still keep playing.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Vincent Cooper
PAST (2018)
––––––––
"I mean, the sound of an amplified guitar in a room
full of people was so hypnotic and addictive to me,
that I could cross any kind of border to get on there."
Eric Clapton
––––––––
I don’t know if I’m more in love with Nova dancing toHands on Meby Ariana Grande, or with the genius who decided to play it right as she hit the dance floor with Aurora.
It’s July 9, and Nova convinced me, Aurora, and Max to go to Chrissy Thompson’s birthday party.
None of us actually know Chrissy. Truth is, I don’t even know what she looks like—we just crashed the party, sneaking in behind a group of guys who’d been let through before us.
Chrissy is filthy rich, and her mansion overlooks Ocean Beach. I wish Steven had come with us, but he chose to stay home. Nova tried to insist, but he refused flatly. He’s still recovering from his radiotherapy sessions in May, and I understand why it’s hard for him to be around people without snapping and saying things he doesn’t mean—especially with his character, and with everything he’s been through. It’s not easy to find yourself at eighteen, fighting the same disease that took away the most important person in your life.
I just wish there were something I could do to help him. I even suggested psychotherapy, but he told me to “fuck off” before burying his nose in a One Piece volume.
I’m the only one who knows about Steven’s health condition. Neither Nova nor Aurora have any idea, and Steven would take me down if I ever tell Max.
I get why he hates him, even if I don’t agree with his reasons. He’s afraid I might replace him, because Max wormed his way into our group so fast. He constantly feels threatened by new people, terrified of being abandoned, and right now he’s just having a shitty time. He’s quick to anger and snappy, but I understand why. He doesn’t want to lose us.
If only he would open up to Nova. She’d understand him instantly—she’s the most empathetic person alive. Just the other day, she apologized to a stray cat who scratched her after she’d brought it food from the supermarket. And she cries every time we watch aDoraemonmovie.
If Steven explained why he bites at Max, or why he avoids hanging out when she arranges something, she’d forgive him without a second thought.
She’d make it easier for him. Meanwhile, he already connects well with Aurora—they’re so alike they practically understand each other telepathically and he doesn’t need to explain himself to her.
Of course, Steven needs to attend a course of anger management. But he’s not a bad guy. Far from it—he’s one of the best friends I could ever ask for. To me, he’s more like a brother than anything.
“When are you going to tell her?” Max asks suddenly, dragging my attention away from Nova.
I lean back against the wall and sip from my Cherry Coke. “Tell who what?”
He rolls his eyes, and drops down beside me, his gaze fixed on the girls. “To Nova, duh. You’ve been eating her alive with your eyes. I’m surprised she’s not already pregnant.”
I chuckle. “Look who’s talking...”