How to Seduce a Band Geek

by Cassie Mae

  I take it a lot slower down the stairs this time, and I run into Dad’s belly as I turn the corner to the kitchen.

  “Watch out there,” he grunts, and I take a step back to look up in his face.

  Oh, that’s why he’s a little grumpy. He’s got on his sweats and has a gym bag tossed over his shoulder. Mom slides up next to him and takes his hand.

  “You ready?” she asks.

  He grunts again.

  Mom pretends it’s the most enthusiastic answer ever, and she squeals. “Okay! I think we should try three miles today.”

  Dad looks like he’d rather hit McDonald’s for breakfast and watch TV on his day off, but Mom has been “gym, gym, gym” ever since his last doctor’s appointment.

  “Who was at the door?” I ask, sliding around my dad’s mass to check into the kitchen for blond hair or blue eyes.

  Mom puts her sunglasses in her hair and tangles her fingers with Dad’s. “Zak was picking Zoe up for work.”

  Phew! Hopefully Levi will show after Mom and Dad have vamoosed.

  “Well, have fun!” I say, trying not to look like I’m shoving them out the door.

  Mom sees right through it. Her smile twitches at the corner. “What are your plans for the day?”

  “Nothing. Watch a movie, maybe. Or go for a walk. Or I can make you guys lunch. Or whatever you want. Yeah. I’m not doing much at all.”

  Damn. It. Sierra!

  Dad raises an eyebrow and eyes my curled hair. Then he takes a huge whiff of me, like I need to take a bath or something. “Uh…” he mumbles and looks at Mom with this expression of “Help me!”

  Mom sniffs me too. I’m tempted to do the same because what is the big deal?

  “You smell like apples.”

  Well, that’s exactly what I was going for, so good. “Thanks.”

  She cocks her head to the side and studies my outfit too. “You smell like very potent apples.”

  So I went overboard on the body wash (and I may have used a little bit of dish soap), but Levi said he liked it, so I’m ignoring her assessment.

  Dad coughs and adjusts his gym bag on his shoulder. Before he or Mom can make me any more self-conscious about how I smell, the doorbell rings.

  I want to grab my parents and push them out the back. Even if that was possible, it wouldn’t help any. I fan my face from all the heat in my cheeks, hoping I look semi-normal when Mom opens the door.

  Levi must have some superpower that melts body parts. I’m a pile of apple-scented goo on the floor the second his eyes flit past Mom and land on me. Then he smiles, and I have to search my gooey self for my lips so I can smile back.

  “Hi, Levi. Sorry, Zoe just left for work.” Mom goes to shut the door, but Levi quickly jumps in.

  “Oh, I’m here to see Sierra.” He nods in my direction, and so much for fanning myself to calm down, because I’m a total fiery, puddled mess.

  Mom turns her head toward me, and I refuse to look at Dad because I can feel his gaze burning a hole through my brain. Mom gives me that “I know what’s going on” smile, and I want to crawl under the stairs and die.

  “Are you expecting Levi?” she asks me, and my cheeks go instant puffer fish.

  “Uh…”

  “You two are going to be here alone?” Dad turns purple. Total grape juice face. I feel like I’m being interrogated for stealing the last of his pork rinds. His eyes flick to Mom. “Maybe we should skip the gym today.”

  Way to use me as an excuse to get out of it, Dad.

  Mom ignores him, grabs Levi’s arm and pulls him inside. He sorta trips over his feet and sidles next to me, adjusting the backpack on his shoulder.

  Then we get the stare down. Purple face from Dad, narrowed (yet totally excited) eyes from Mom, and—kill me now—the pointer finger.

  “Rules.” She points to the living room. “Opposite ends of the couch. Blinds open. Cell phones on and in reach.” She grins and brings her finger back to me and Levi, wiggling it back and forth between us. “You’re lucky, Sierra. If it was some other boy, there’s no way we’d be leaving you alone. But we’re not telling you how long we’ll be. We could be all day, we could be twenty seconds.” Then she waves her hand in the air just as my stomach falls out my rear. “We could walk through that door at any moment.”

  She’s still doing that weird spooky you-better-be-scared wave at us as she drags Dad’s stubborn body out the door. He’s giving Levi a look of death as Mom calls out, “Have fun!” and lets the door click behind them.

  Is there a code for parents? Something about embarrassing their kids any chance they get?

  I don’t dare put my eyes on Levi. Overanalyzing what his expression is after that humiliating lecture is not something I want to start this date out with. Or non-date. Or whatever the hell… urg. Sometimes I want to squelch all my brain cells and make my body create new ones that will let me think straight and not freak out over every little thing.

  “Um, want something to drink?” I ask in my shakiest voice ever. I should really try out for the choir because my vibrato rocks.

  “Sure,” he answers through a laugh, and I finally let my eyes go up to his instead of talking to his DCs. His ears are a little red, but he seems relaxed in his super cute khaki shorts and polo. I giggle as I read the print stitched on his chest. BAND GEEKS RULE. Hell yeah, they do. The first second I can I’m finding that shirt on Pinterest and pinning the sucker.

  I let the tension my parents put in my chest seep out and lead him into the kitchen. He drops his pack on the floor next to the barstool he slides on.

  “Sorry about”—I nod at the spot where my parents gave us the no touchy rules—“that.”

  He half-smiles at me, and my hand slips on the fridge door. “They’re just looking out for you.”

  Arguing would totally be pointless, especially since I find coherent thoughts difficult around him. So I just nod and toss him a can of Pepsi. He fumbles, and it slips through his fingers and lands with a crash to the floor.

  “Guess I can’t open that one for a while,” he says, picking it up.

  I grab another can and walk over to him this time, trading the shaken soda for the fresh one. Our hands totally rub against each other, and I’m so glad I’m holding something ice cold to keep my body from exploding in heat.

  “So…” There goes my rocking vibrato. “What movie did you want to watch?”

  “Ah,” he says, reaching down and grabbing his backpack strap. His hair flops over his forehead, and he flips it aside when he sits upright. I wonder if GQ is hiring. He could make a killing. “I came prepared.” He pats his pack and smirks. I grasp onto the countertop to keep from falling through the floor.

  Dang it, Sierra. Get. A. Grip!

  We make our way to the couch, and I hear him inhale behind me. A smile creeps on my lips. See, Mom? I didn’t put too much apple scent on me. My hips wiggle back and forth with that small accomplishment.

  “Okay, what’s on the agenda?” I ask, flicking on the Blu-Ray.

  Levi crouches on the floor and digs through his backpack. “I brought over the best movies in the world. Well written, and awesome scores.” He takes his hand out of the bag and points at me. “You aren’t allowed to make fun.”

  I press my lips together and nod, holding back the biggest smile I think I’ve ever had. He pulls out five or six cases, and the top one has a big huge shark on the front.

  I can’t help it. I laugh.

  “Hey, hey. You aren’t allowed, remember?” He smiles though and straightens, holding out the movies.

  “I just didn’t expect Disney movies,” I say, taking the cases.

  “Disney/Pixar,” he corrects, taking a step toward me. My heart starts going haywire, shorting out my internal circuits when he helps me flip through the different ones he brought. His hands hover over mine, and I’d be surprised if he didn’t feel the current pumping through my skin. “So, you pick. We got Finding Nemo, UP, Monsters Inc., WALL-E, and Toy Story 3.”

&n
bsp; “Why Toy Story 3? Why not the first or second?”

  “Why Toy Story 3?” His mouth drops in mock shock. “Sierra, that’s the best one. Made me cry like a baby.”

  I laugh again, leaning forward so much my forehead accidentally smacks his chest. I jump back, still laughing, but now it’s that awful pig snort going on. I’m so awesome.

  He doesn’t seem to notice my totally not-hot laugh, and inhales again, this time closing his eyes.

  “Damn, you smell so good.”

  I’m pretty sure both our faces are up in smoke. I’m not sure if he meant to say it out loud, but it sure came out, and I’m freaking and smiling and totally fire-faced, and it looks like he’s doing the same thing.

  “Um, thanks.” And we plunge into awkwardness. He’s shaking when he fixes the movies in my hands.

  “So…which one?” Now he’s rocking the vibrato.

  I shake my head and eye the movies because his nerves aren’t helping mine. Though, they do make me feel better, because if he was all smooth and I was a snorting, melting, tongue-tied idiot, I’d start thinking there was something very wrong with the way I’m going through puberty.

  “Well, I’ve never seen Finding Nemo—”

  “You what?” He snatches it from the top of the stack. “Okay, it’s a must, and we’re watching it.”

  He’s so cute. And even though I hate seeing him open the distance between us, I sort of need the breather.

  He pops the movie in, and I grab all the remotes and hop into the couch cushion. Before he sits, he gives me a wink—that wink again. I’ve got to find out what it means—and opens the blinds enough so people can see in, but there’s no glare on the TV. Then he takes a spot as far away as humanly possible on the couch.

  Right. Those rules. And with my big daddy, I’d probably listen if I were him too.

  Unless he doesn’t want to cuddle with me. I may be in wishful dreamland thinking that my yummy smell and adorable band looking outfit would make him want to be super close.

  I’m going to blame my parents though. Makes me feel better.

  I sit cross-legged and get the movie started. Levi leans forward, locking his fingers together while his elbows rest on his knees.

  “This opening is the best,” he says, staring at the screen. I try to move my eyes to the TV too, but they keep floating back to him. His knees bounce as he keeps talking. “This one was nominated for four Oscars and only took home one. It should’ve taken them all. Especially Original Screenplay. The writing is genius. And the music, ah… I mean watch this. And listen.”

  I turn back to the screen, and there’s this barracuda with big teeth attacking the little fishies! I gasp and hide my face. Disney? Are you pulling another Bambi? Because I can’t deal with that.

  I peek through my fingers because I don’t hear anything anymore. I thought maybe Levi turned the TV off, but it’s still on, and the little orange guy floats around looking for his baby fish and his fish wife. My mouth drops and tingles go to my eyes, and I wasn’t even watching this for real just a second ago, and I’m about to cry over a fish and his family.

  I can feel Levi watching me, but I keep my eyes glued on the screen till the title pops up and the background music plays. I quickly swipe at my cheeks.

  “Genius, right?”

  “What? That was awful! Poor guy.” I frown.

  “Yeah, but if you listen to the music, it makes you feel it all. Even though it’s just a fish.”

  I look at him, and he’s still leaning on his knees, a big grin on his face. “But there wasn’t any music,” I say, wanting him to look at me too.

  He doesn’t, but he does answer. “That’s the whole point. Sometimes no music is the most powerful. So when the music starts playing, it hits you hard.”

  He keeps talking, going on about the people who provide the voices of the characters and how amazing actors they are to portray every emotion through just their voice. And how awesome the animators are for giving fish expressions. There’s more, and I’m giggling at him before I can stop it.

  “What?” he asks, finally tearing his gaze from the screen.

  “You’re one of those people who talks through movies.” I bite back my smile and adjust my feet under me.

  His ears go red. “Sorry. I know I get carried away, and it bugs the hell out of my sister.” He does a pretend zipper across his lips. “I’ll keep it down.”

  “No.” I take a deep breath and give a quick glance at the door before doing something I didn’t think I’d have the guts to do—I slide across the couch and land on the middle cushion. I leave enough room so there’s definitely space between us, but so it’s up to him to close the distance. If he wants. But now he knows that I want it. I let out that breath I’d sucked in. “I like hearing you talk. So don’t be quiet.”

  His eyes are stuck on the couch cushion. “This isn’t exactly opposite ends.” He gulps, and I panic for a second, thinking he’s about to jump up and sit on the floor because I’m too close.

  Instead of sliding over to meet me, he takes my hand and pulls, leaning back into the couch so I can collapse onto his chest. I settle there like he’s my big body pillow, only I never hear my pillow’s crazy heartbeats, and my pillow never holds me back. His hand rests on my hip and gives it a little squeeze. Before I can even freak out over what’s happening, Levi’s random facts about Disney and Pixar spew from his mouth, distracting me.

  Finding Nemo has officially become my favorite movie ever.

  Chapter 11

  I can’t even be mad at her for ruining the moment.

  His fingers keep tapping my side in tune with the music on the movie. He’s bopping his other hand on the arm of the couch, and his knee bounces. He’s so wiggly, but I’m not moving from the spot. I close my eyes and feel his rhythmic taps on my hip, and the light bulb goes ding!

  “Do you miss it?” I blurt because I’ve lost all control of my body parts.

  His knee stops and so does the hand on the couch, but his fingers still rap against the top of my jeans. “Yeah. Every day, I miss it.”

  I’m so glad he knows what I’m talking about. I squish closer to him and play with the buttons on his polo. “Why did you sell them?”

  I thought it was an innocent question, but Levi stiffens underneath me and moves so I sit up. We’re not touching anymore. I refuse to let my bottom lip poke out.

  “Uh… I don’t really want to talk about that.” He does this twitchy smile thing, and it gets me all sorts of worried, but I let it drop. Sensitive subject I guess.

  “Okay…” New question, quick! “Will you tell me why you went for the… pick a bopper thing?”

  He chuckles and it releases whatever drummer tension I caused. He pulls me back on his chest. “Piccolo. It was the only instrument left in the house.”

  “You just happened to have a piccolo sitting around?”

  “Actually, yeah.”

  My nose and lips smoosh as I look up at him, and his chuckles send my head bouncing.

  “My dad had a collection of every marching band instrument there is.”

  “Why?” I ask before I can stop it. My breath gets stuck in my cheeks, and he lightly pokes them to get the air to come out.

  “It was his goal to learn them all. He did pretty good too. Wasn’t the best on the trumpet, but still decent.”

  Call me crazy, but I’d pick a trumpet over a piccolo. Even if I looked as sexy as Levi when I play it.

  “So…I’m still not getting it.” I poke at his polo buttons again. “If you have all these instruments lying around—”

  “I don’t.” He stiffens again. Gosh, I need a conversation filter. A list of what not to say, or what to say, or something so he stops closing off. He takes a deep breath, squeezing my hip. At least he doesn’t shove me away this time. “The piccolo was the only thing he didn’t take when he left.”

  Let’s all smack Sierra in the forehead. I knew his dad wasn’t around. Why did that not even zap into my brain wh
en he mentioned him?

  A million fuzzies clog my mind as I try to come up with anything to change the subject. But damn it, that never works when I’m under pressure like this.

  Then just when I think I’ve royally screwed up any chance of friendship, relationship, whatevership with him, Levi turns on the couch so he can look me in the eyes. He’s got that adorable smile that only lifts halfway, and even though I’m not leaning against him anymore, our faces are closer, our knees full blown pressed against each other, and his hands are on mine. He’s holding my hands, and it’s not ‘cause I’m freaking behind a podium. I can’t help but grin like a lovesessed fool and bounce a little in the cushion.

  “I’m not very good at it,” he says, pulling me back into whatever it was we were talking about.

  “Huh?” I pant at him, which makes him laugh and play with my fingers.

  “The piccolo. I kind of suck.”

  “No you don’t.”

  He shakes his head. “Thanks, but I think you’re the only one who thinks that.”

  “Is it your first time playing it? Because people should give you a break. It’s not like someone can learn overnight.”

  “I played a bit when I was a kid. My dad wanted me to try to learn all the instruments too. I spent about five months on the piccolo before he moved me to the flute.”

  Wait…“So, you know how to play…everything?”

  His eyes go to our hands, and he starts running his fingers over mine. Does he know he’s doing that? I start bouncing in my seat again.

  “Not everything. When I got to percussion, I stopped because I liked the drums. And he left not long after that. He took his drum kit, but my mom got me the one I used to play.” He pushes his eyes back to mine, and the look he gives me is so intense I shoot my gaze to something that won’t make me lose my mind. But the print on his shirt is not nearly as interesting, so my gaze goes automatically back to his.