Spider

by Ilsa Madden-Mills

  She gestures to her phone. “Look, I found your video. It already has a million views.” She holds her phone up, and I peer down at the video on YouTube where Spider and his band are playing their “Superhero” song on the rooftop of a high-rise in what looks like New York. Just like from the show, Spider is wearing his blue mink coat and those leopard print bikini underwear, showcasing his six-pack and tattoos. It’s over the top, but so him. I watch as he struts around with his guitar, his body bending and whipping with the music. My eyes trace his sculpted chest, eagerly taking in the finely chiseled V-line where his waist disappears into his pelvis.

  He’s sex with a side of hard music. And it makes my heart hammer.

  His arm brushes mine as he puts his hand on the table to stand so he can watch it with me. As if my body has a mind of its own, I lean closer to him. “I love that song,” I murmur.

  “Do you like it better than “Albatross”?” His voice is warm and right next to me, the heat from his body intoxicating. I know if I turn to face him, our faces would be inches apart.

  I lick my lips. “I love “Albatross” because you sing it . . . and it’s a ballad.”

  “I’ll think about you the next time I sing it,” he says softly.

  “Yeah?”

  “Most definitely.”

  It feels as if there’s a current running from me to him, and if I get any closer, if I touch him, I’m going to get fried, but my body doesn’t care. I turn to face him, and it’s apparent we’re invading the other’s personal space, but neither of us seems to care. His eyes peer down at me, his gaze searching mine. My breath stalls. He’s so close to me and for a moment it almost seems as if we’re alone . . .

  “Excuse me,” Aria says, cutting into my thoughts. “Can you get us some menus, please?”

  Spider seems to come out of a fog, taking a step away from me and sitting next to Aria.

  I’m still recovering from the intensity of him when Trenton taps his Ray-Bans on the table to get my attention.

  I almost forgot he was here.

  “Hey, Rose. How’s it going?” He gives me his famous hot guy chin nod. “You look great. We missed you at Jo’s while you were gone.”

  I smile. He mentioned he’d stayed in town for the break. “That’s sweet. Thank you.”

  Aria rolls her eyes, but Trenton doesn’t see it. She’s good about hiding what a real mean girl she is.

  I focus back on Trenton. Tonight he’s wearing a Claremont shirt, jeans, and a ball cap. Classically handsome and from a wealthy family, he could date anyone he wanted. I’m not sure why he’s interested in me except that I don’t chase after him or text him or try to get his attention. We had a Biology Lab together freshman year, and although he was dating someone at the time, there was a spark of attraction there. He’s since broken up with that girl, and we seem to be tip-toeing around each other, deciding if we really like each other or not.

  “I got my acceptance letter from NYU. I’m pretty stoked,” Trenton says to me. “Did you hear back?”

  I nod. “I was accepted.” But that doesn’t mean I’m going. I don’t say that part because I don’t want to be lame and I don’t want to put a damper on his excitement over his own acceptance.

  He stands up, obviously excited as he comes around to where I am and picks me up and gives me a hug. “That’s awesome, Rose! I’m glad we’ll both be there.”

  He eases me down and I feel the heat of Spider’s gaze on me. When I look at Spider his face is inscrutable except for a telltale tic in his jaw, and I wonder what that means.

  I think I know. He doesn’t like Trenton.

  Aria’s voice, annoyingly shrill, cuts in. “I’m not sure what it takes to order some food around here, but I’d sure like to.”

  Trenton waves her off. “Hold your horses. This is great news. New York’s a big city and it’ll be nice to know some people there.” He grins at me, his teeth straight and white against his tan skin. “Maybe we’ll have some classes together.”

  If I get to go . . .

  “How nice,” Spider says, and I hear the sarcasm in his voice. Thankfully, no one else seems to notice or if they do, they don’t acknowledge it.

  I dart a look at him, taking in the way he’s sizing up Trenton.

  Trenton doesn’t seem to notice because his sky blue gaze is on me.

  I feel uncomfortable and I’m just about to dash off to grab some menus to get away when Oscar covers his heart with his hand. “Spider’s song and Trenton’s acceptance to NYU is incredible, but you know what would make this moment truly wonderful?”

  “What?” Aria snaps as she glares at Trenton and me. She’s obviously annoyed because Trenton likes me. She doesn’t think I’m good enough for him. I’m tempted to stick my tongue out at her—but that’s too childish. But, man, sometimes, I really want to.

  “Yeah, what?” Lexa asks. She’s been watching the entire interaction quietly, playing it cool.

  Oscar clears his throat. “Well, seeing as Trenton invited Rose to the Spring Fling, I think it would be super special if Lexa and I were also invited?” He bats his eyes at Trenton.

  I suppress a giggle. Oscar has no shame.

  Trenton nods like a king. “Done. You’re both invited.”

  Well, that was easy enough.

  Aria puffs up. “We can’t just go around inviting everyone, Trenton. It’s an exclusive party—that’s the whole point.”

  Trenton shrugs. “I’m the Class President, and I say they can come.”

  Garrett, who’s been silent up to this point—I suspect because he’s slow and unable to follow our conversation—decides to speak up, “Looking hot in that polo, Rosie. If I tip you big enough, do I get a private lap dance later?” He waggles his eyebrows.

  Spider immediately scowls, his face hard. “Shut up, arsehole. Show some respect.”

  Garrett sneers. “Whatever, dude. It’s Tin Town Rosie—she knows I’m just kidding, right?”

  My fist tightens within the pocket of my apron at the stupid nickname. Some of the students called me that when I first arrived and it still comes back to haunt me.

  “Of course. You’re hilarious,” I say. “But I don’t give lap dances to baseball players who lost their starter status. Only the best for me.”

  It’s no secret that the coach recently benched him. Rumor is he’s been partying too much and not showing up to some of their practices.

  “Crash and burn,” Oscar says, tittering like an old lady as he makes an exploding sound.

  Spider’s face is red and tight, and I watch as he leans over the table and whispers something under his breath to Garrett. I try to hear what it is, but I can’t, not with Aria in my ear. “Menus? Today?” she calls out loudly.

  “Right.” I flounce off and am halfway back to the kitchen when Trenton catches me at the counter. “Hey, sorry about Garrett. His mouth is out of control sometimes.”

  I nod.

  “Why don’t we go to dinner this week?” he says. “Like a real date before Spring Fling gets here.”

  I’m barely listening though, my eyes on Spider as Aria flirts with him.

  Garrett seems to have left because I don’t see him anywhere. I wonder what Spider said to him.

  Just then Aria touches Spider’s neck tattoo, and anger flies over me.

  Ugh. I’m so jealous.

  “Rose?”

  I look back at Trenton, coming to a quick decision. “I’d like that.”

  “Good. I’m looking forward to it.” He hesitates and then briefly kisses my cheek. “I’ll grab the menus for our table. You do whatever you need to.”

  “Okay,” I say, feeling rather bemused as he walks away.

  I pass the rest of the night in a hurried kind of crazy, trying to get to all of my tables before my shift ends, my feet aching. My classmates order their meals then I barely check on them, instead sending my co-worker Cyndi, promising her the entire tip.

  I keep a wary eye on the table as I take orders and bus tabl
es, looking up every now and then. Each time I do, Spider meets my gaze . . . and so does Trenton.

  Later, I head to the restroom to avoid saying goodbye. I barely have my hands washed when Spider walks in and closes the door behind him.

  My eyes flare. “What are you doing?”

  He crosses his arms, a sure sign that he is either closing himself off or feeling vulnerable. “Your friends are all arseholes—except for Oscar.”

  “Okay.” I cross my own arms. “You seem to be having a good time with Aria.”

  He lets out a frustrated growl. “For someone so smart, it’s interesting that you’re missing what’s right in front of you.”

  I shake my head. “What are you talking about?”

  He grinds his teeth together and glares at me. “I’m at a diner . . . in a restroom that reeks of Clorox . . . to talk to a girl that . . . that . . . I like.”

  I grow warm. “Is that a bad thing?”

  “It is when you’re my stepsister and I’ve been warned to stay away from you.” He gets a frustrated look on his face.

  No. I don’t want that.

  “Is that what you want?”

  He stares at the floor. “The only reason I came here was to see you and tell you my good news, and now I’ve figured out that Trenton is the guy you were reading the book for. Am I right?” He looks back up, and there’s wariness in his gaze, almost as if he’s preparing himself.

  “Yes.”

  He exhales and rakes his hands through his hair. “Fuck me.”

  “Why do you care?”

  “Nothing. Just . . . nothing.”

  “You’re jealous,” I say softly, the realization so clear that I’m giddy.

  He ignores that. “And you’re going to NYU with him?”

  I pause, my chest tightening as I think back to my dream. “Anne won’t let me. I didn’t want to ruin his news, so I didn’t say anything.”

  “But you want to go?” He studies me.

  “Not for him. I want to go for me. My Granny always promised me that she and I would leave Tin Town and run away to New York.” I grimace, thinking of her dying when I was ten, a year before Mama. “It was just something she said, and I guess I’m still trying to get there.”

  He spears me with devastatingly beautiful eyes as he palms his spider tattoo.

  “What?” I ask.

  He lets out a heavy sigh and rakes a hand through his hair. “I just can’t stand the thought of you with him. Hate it so much it makes me want to pound on him—and don’t even get me started on Garrett. I told him to leave the diner or else.”

  My mind is reeling from hearing this. I want to throw my arms around Spider and hug him. Maybe more.

  He pivots around to head back out the door.

  “Spider! Wait,” I call out. “You can’t leave after that.”

  But he doesn’t turn around or stop.

  Since it’s the end of my shift and I don’t have any more tables left, I hurriedly undo my braid and apply a quick swipe of lip gloss I have in my apron. Spider and I are going to talk.

  I fly out the door just a couple minutes after him, but he’s gone already.

  In fact, the entire place has nearly emptied except for Oscar and Lexa. They both give me quick hugs and leave too, saying they have homework waiting on them. Cyndi comes up to me, glowing because Spider left her a hundred-dollar bill as a tip. She offers to give me half, but I sigh and say no.

  I just want him, not his money.

  Spider

  I RUN MY HAND ACROSS the dashboard of my Jeep. It might be close to six years old, but Father kept it in pristine shape while he stored it in one of his garages at the house. It brings back good memories . . . and bad. Aria was right—I was a hell raiser in prep school. I even ran away a couple of times, anything to get my father’s attention.

  I watch Rose as she carries her tray back to the kitchen. It appears to be the end of her shift as she busies herself cleaning up the tables.

  Why does she work when she doesn’t have to? I think it’s admirable.

  I rub at the leather wrapped around my steering wheel. She isn’t like any girl I’ve ever met before. She has this way of looking at me like she can see every detail of my insides, as if she knows exactly what I’m thinking.

  My phone rings—Sebastian. He’s called me three times already today from his apartment in New York, once to tell me the news, and then two more times to update me as the views on the video kept rising.

  “Dude!” he yells into my ear as I answer it. “Are you watching the views?”

  “Yeah, it’s sweet.”

  He laughs. “It’s insane. And . . . get this . . . one of the music producers we were interested in called me today. He saw the video and wants to meet with us in LA.”

  That’s huge. It’s the cherry on top of the video.

  “I’m ready to get to LA and just get going, you know? Find an apartment and a studio. We need so much shit!”

  I grin at his exuberance.

  He continues, giving me updates about the other band members. “Rocco and I are flying out to LA this weekend to look for a place to live. When’s the soonest you can get there? We need to start working on the new songs for the album.”

  I just got here; I’m not ready to leave.

  Which is funny, because normally I can’t wait to get out of Dallas.

  “I made this deal with my father that I’d stick around for a while. He’s going to give us some startup money. You think you can wait?”

  He sighs. “I don’t know, man. We need to jump on this while it’s hot. With this video thing going viral, Mila’s already working on setting up some interviews with some shows, maybe even Kimmel. It would be nice if you were there already if we get the call.”

  I rub my forehead. Mila is our PR girl who mostly works for peanuts and the chance to hang out with us. We attended prep school together and since she’s a trust fund girl, she has the time and money to do our promo. We’re her pet project, and admittedly, she’s done a fantastic job. She set up our merchandise on the website, organized the music video, and even scheduled tour stops. She’s irreplaceable, and free—can’t forget that. She currently lives in Dallas but wants to move to LA to be near us. I should probably go see her or call her, but I haven’t yet. She has a crush on me and I don’t want to encourage it.

  I sigh. “My father got married, mate, and there’s this girl . . .” My fingers toy with the steering wheel again. “She’s different.”

  Different is an understatement, and I’m intensely aware of her, from every shift of her shoulders to the pulse in her neck.

  I thought she was simply pretty.

  She is fucking luminous.

  And the best thing I can do is avoid her.

  “Dude, there are beautiful girls for days in LA.” His voice is light but I sense the unease. I’ve let him down before when I’m using . . . getting in fights or showing up to practice trashed.

  I’m distracted as I watch Rose pick up her jacket from the coat rack and slip it on.

  “Spider? You there?” Sebastian asks.

  “Yeah, yeah. I’ll work on it and let you know.”

  Tension crackles through the phone as his voice deepens. “I need you, man. We’ve spent five years on the road and it’s starting to pay off. Don’t let us down.”

  Rose exits the diner, gets in her car and pulls out of the parking lot.

  “Got to go, bro. I’ll call you later.”

  “Wait—” I hear him say, but I already ended the call.

  I crank up and follow her taillights.

  Rose

  AFTER PARKING, I REACH THE sidewalk that leads up to the entrance of my dorm, cursing under my breath that the streetlight on this side of my building is out. Considering how much the tuition is—thirty thousand a year, including boarding—you’d think maintenance would do a better job. On top of that, clouds obscure the quarter moon, leaving me with almost no light. I should have brought a flashlight.


  I cross the darkness quickly, eager to get to my room and hop in the shower. I get within five feet of the door close to the parking lot before I realize it’s past ten, which means the side entrance will be locked and I’ll have to skirt around and go in through the main lobby. Ugh.

  I flip back around, taking the long sidewalk that winds through pretty landscaping and trees. Anxious to get to a well-lit area, I fiddle with my backpack and dig around for my keys.

  A rustling sound comes from behind me.

  Without pausing, my eyes scour the parking lot to my left and the darkened landscaping to my right. Nothing moves, but my pulse kicks up a beat.

  You’re fine, I tell myself. Besides being one of the richest neighborhoods in the world, Highland Park is also one of the safest.

  With a bit more pep in my step, I focus on getting to the front door.

  Another sound reaches my ears, this time a scuffling sound that stops when I do. I look over my shoulder, tingles making my scalp prickle.

  Someone is out there.

  Watching me.

  Following me.

  “Who’s there?” I call, peering into the blackness.

  Silence.

  “I have Mace,” I say. “And I’m not afraid to use it.”

  My hands grow clammy. I’m only about fifty yards from the main entrance. I could drop my backpack and make a dash—

  “Don’t freak out. It’s just me, babe.” I hear a chuckle and then Garrett emerges from behind a small shrub. Wearing a black beanie, he sticks his hands in his pockets and strikes a nonchalant pose, yet his steps are steady and purposeful. “I thought this was where you lived. My dorm’s right next to yours. I actually saw you parking in the lot and thought I’d say hello.”

  Hello? Yeah, okay.

  I take a step backward, my brow wrinkling. “It’s late. What do you want?”

  He shrugs, easing in closer and stopping about five steps from me. Over six feet tall with bulky muscles, he’s intimidating.

  “Nothing much. Just want to talk.”

  My stomach goes cold.

  There’s a sly tone to his voice.

  I shouldn’t have smarted off to him. I should have just let him get in his little snide remark about the lap dance and let it go, pride goeth before a fall and all that jazz.