by JL Paul
“I do. It’s called expanding your vocabulary. You should try it sometime.” So there, I wanted to add but that darn maturity thing got in the way.
He shook his head and turned it back to the window. “I do expand my vocabulary. I write music you know.”
“You call ‘I like you best when you work your magic below my chest’ expanding your vocabulary?” I uttered.
“Actually I call it artistic,” he snorted. “What would you call it?”
“Pornographic,” I sneered. That particular song always made me blush – especially in mixed company. But I’d never, ever admit that to him.
“What do you know about writing lyrics, huh? You’re obviously not a fan.” He scowled out the window, arms folded neatly across his chest in a pout. The light from the street lamps flickered across his face, one minute illuminating his features and the next casting them in the shadows. My nervous heart kicked up a notch.
Baby! I wanted to shout. Instead, I opened and closed my mouth a few times. “I am too a fan,” I said in a near whisper.
“Well you could have fooled me,” he said. “Especially the way you rip apart my songs.”
Was he for real? I made one little comment. Couldn’t he take constructive criticism? I sighed, feeling a little sorry for him. “Not all of your songs. Only one or two -the vulgar ones.”
“Vulgar? What is so vulgar about my music?” he demanded, facing me again.
“Do you want me to sing them to you?”
He laughed hollowly. “Sure. Be my guest.”
I glanced at him, hoping he was kidding. He wasn’t. A knowing smirk was plastered across his face. I quickly turned back to the road, embarrassment thundering in my ears. “Well too bad because I am not going to sing. You know what I mean, anyway. They’re your songs; you should know the words.”
Finally a little animation filled his face as he scooted as far up on the seat as the seatbelt would allow. Hey, when did he buckle up? I’d have to give him a little credit for thinking of safety. Not that I wanted to, but it was only fair. “Do you ever really listen to the words? Do you know what the songs are about?”
“I…” I stammered. I didn’t quite know what to say. I didn’t want to come off as some sort of know it all…hussy, but then I’d already revealed too much naiveté’ as it was. Some of that stuff, well, let’s just say I’d need a dictionary and perhaps a drawing or two to get the meaning.
“I thought so,” he replied smugly. “They’re not all about sex, you know. If you’d listen you’d know that most of them are about how the guy doesn’t always just want a physical relationship. Sometimes he wants more than sex.”
“Sorry,” I muttered. “I guess I missed that.” I turned my shameful eyes back to the road.
“You would,” he grumbled.
The guilt I’d felt moments go moved aside and allowed anger to take its place. It roared inside my head and demanded I set it loose on the man. “Hey! That’s not fair. How can you judge me when you don’t even know me?”
“Sorry,” he said and again I doubted his sincerity.
“And how about the songs about drugs? What are they about?” Ha. I had him this time.
He sighed and shook his head. I’m pretty sure he rolled his eyes too but I missed that part - I was trying to pay attention to the road. “What would you have us write about- rainbows and butterflies? Spoiled little girls whose hearts get broken when Mr. Popularity doesn’t ask them to the prom?”
The sting behind my eyes reminded me tears were near. I didn’t want to break down in front of him so I swallowed extra hard and concentrated on the road. I hated that I was such a crybaby at times—especially when I was angry. “You pretend you know me when you don’t. How about you stop being so judgmental and try being a little grateful? I could have left you behind to be mauled by your hormone-crazed fans.”
His eyes bored into the side of my head but I kept my chin up, pretending not to notice. The tears were still there, but I was doing a wonderful job of containing them. “You’re right,” he whispered. “Really, I’m sorry.”
I chanced a quick glance at him, and he gave me a brief smile. I returned it and stared at the dark road.
“Where are we?” he asked, eyes drifting to the shadows outside his window.
“I’m not sure but I think I’ll turn around. I need to find another Burger Kastle.”
“You need to what? How can you think of your stomach at a time like this?” His voice rose to the ceiling, and I wondered if he’d ever hit a note that high. So much for that smile. His hands were planted on the dashboard as though he were bracing himself for a crash.
“I haven’t eaten in hours. And hours. I’m hungry,” I protested. I was tempted to knock on his head to see if it was hollow. “I need a greasy burger. It’s like a crack addiction except for me, it’s fast food.”
“Wonderful,” he muttered, staring at the sky. “Opinionated and a junk food junkie.”
“I am not opinionated!” I wanted to fold my arms over my chest and huff but someone had to steer, and he wasn’t volunteering. Not that I was asking.
“Listen to you ramble,” he snorted.
“I do not ramble,” I fumed.
“You haven’t shut up since I got in this car,” he said as he gawked out the window, attempting to hide his laughter. It wasn’t hard to tell what he was up to – his entire body was shaking. He was getting to me and he knew it, and it only fueled my anger.
“Be nice. Don’t make me pull over.” All the blood in my circulatory system flooded my face and I knew, even though it was pretty dark in the car, he could see it. Did I really say that?
I must have because he was beside himself in laughter. He leaned against the door as his body trembled, and his face turned as red as mine had to be. “I…can’t…believe…you said that,” he guffawed. “I haven’t…heard that…in a long time!”
“Yeah well my blood sugar must be very low.” I muttered irritably. We were heading back down the main strip, and I couldn’t locate a single Burger Kastle except the one where I rescued Mr. Laugh-It-Up. I didn’t think it would be a good idea to return to the scene of the crime so I found an all-night burger stand instead. I made sure the doors were locked as I placed our order and collected our food, not even bothering to ask him if he’d like something other than a burger.
I decided to drive to this cool place I’d found one night while I was waiting for my friend Annie to come home. It was a tall hill that overlooked a sprawling corn field. Sounds corny, no pun intended, but it really wasn’t. It seemed as though you could see for miles, and it was so tranquil that I often went back when I needed somewhere quiet to think.
I drove through Annie’s subdivision, ignoring the huge, brightly lit houses. Jake peered absently out the window as the greasy cheeseburger scent filled the car and made my stomach rumble.
“Where are you taking me?” Jake asked.
“You’re the one who carjacked me, remember?” I reminded him. The asphalt ended and the dirt road began, inclining as it twisted around the trees. My window was still down, and I could hear the crickets singing to each other in sweet harmony.
“Do you think it’s safe for you, a young helpless girl, to take me, a strange man, to some place so secluded?”
“I am not helpless,” I told him. I wanted to punch him to prove it, but I refrained. My father had convinced me and my mother to take self-defense classes a couple of years ago when a man had gone crazy attacking women in our town. Still, I knew Jake had a point, but I didn’t want to admit it—I couldn’t bear to tell the arrogant idiot he was right. Besides, my dad always said trust your instincts, and Jake made me feel oddly comfortable.
“Whatever you say,” he said with a shrug.
We finally reached the top of the hill, and I parked the car. I hopped out, taking the bag of food with me, and climbed on the hood, basking in its warmth. Jake followed slowly and walked around to lean on the driver’s side.
“Where a
re we?” he asked.
“Just a place I come to now and then,” I replied as he accepted the cheeseburger I shoved in his face. I moved over, and he climbed on the hood next to me. We ate in silence, listening as the insects serenaded us. It was perfect, except for the breeze that made the hair on my arms stand at attention.
“This is kinda cool,” he admitted in a low voice. He finished his cheeseburger and shoved the wrapper in the bag. He reached in the front pocket of his sweat shirt and fished out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one as he leaned against the windshield.
“Do you always have to be a tough guy?” I blurted. So much for tact. I mean, there we were, two people enjoying wonderfully-greasy fast food, and I had to open my mouth. I prepared to apologize, but his laughter stopped me.
“What are you talking about?” he asked as amusement danced in his eyes. Poor guy. What he must think of me.
“You’re all tense and stuff. And then you light up a cigarette. That’s a nasty, unhealthy habit you know.”
He crushed his cigarette out on the bottom of his boot and stuck the butt in his pocket. “Happy?” I nodded, attempting to keep my mouth shut for once. He stretched his legs out and crossed them at the ankles. “Come over here and check this out.”
I gawked at him for a moment. What was he, mental? “Huh?”
“Scoot back here by me. It’s cool.”
I bit my lip then shrugged. What the heck? I slid back and leaned against the windshield. Smiling, he looked at the sky. I did the same and what do you know, he was right. The stars were sprawled before us, shimmering and twinkling in the darkness, reminding me of poetry and children’s tales. I guess I’d never really taken the time to notice them before, and I wondered why.
“Kinda makes you feel insignificant, huh?” Jake asked. His arm pressed against mine, and a shudder wracked my body. “Are you cold?”
“I’m fine,” I lied. There was no way I could tell him that it was his nearness making me tremble—I didn’t have the courage. Sitting up, he yanked his sweatshirt over his head, knocking his baseball cap to the car.
“Here.” He held it out to me, and I stared dubiously.
“Won’t you be cold?” I eyed the thin t-shirt he’d had on under the hoodie.
“I’m fine. Take it.”
I didn’t argue. I pulled it over my head and was immediately rewarded with warmth. “Thanks,” I said, giving him a hesitant smile.
“Sure,” he said as he fell back to the windshield. I joined him, a little closer than I was before. Tucking an arm behind his head, he pointed out several constellations with his other hand. I was extremely impressed.
“Did you major in astronomy or something?” I asked.
“Nah. My dad used to take me camping a lot when I was a kid. He taught me and my sister all about that kind of stuff,” he explained. I couldn’t imagine a big rock star like him having a father and a sister and sleeping in a tent. Yes, it was stupid, but really, when you thought about it, it’s hard to imagine. Of course at this particular moment, Jake seemed like just an ordinary guy. And he hadn’t been a bit arrogant since we got out of the car.
“Where do your parents live?” I asked, genuinely curious. I wasn’t one to read every single scrap of information on my favorite bands, so I actually didn’t know much about him. I knew his music was good and his lyrics excellent and that was about all.
“My dad and my younger sister, Greta, live near Chicago. I don’t know about my mother. She left shortly after Greta was born.” He didn’t seem terribly sad, but I did sense an awkward pause coming so I jumped off the car and grabbed his hand.
Dragging him to the edge of the hill, I stopped short. I pointed to the fields below and next to me, Jake gasped. The corn was tall but that wasn’t what caught our attention. Swooping in and out of the stalks were thousands of fireflies, flickering on and off and lighting up the field. It was an amazing display of nature’s own light show.
“This is amazing!” he declared, squeezing my hand. I nodded, a little embarrassed because I had forgotten to let go. He didn’t seem to mind. “How did you find this place? Do you live around here?”
“I live about forty-five minutes away but my roommate lives nearby,” I explained. “I found the place when I was waiting for her to get home one day.”
“Hang on,” he said, turning to me. His face was close to mine, and it did funny things to my stomach. Maybe it was the burgers... “How does your roommate live nearby but you don’t? How can you be roommates?”
“We’re roommates at school. We go to Meridian Valley. It’s a boarding school.”
His lips curled in a delighted smile. “Boarding school? Are you serious?”
“Yes,” I said, releasing his hand to plant my fists on my hips. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“No,” he said, eyes shining with laughter. “Is it for like…juvenile delinquents?”
My breath hitched, and I took a swing at him. He anticipated it, though, and ducked neatly out of the way. That didn’t deter me in the least, and I took another step toward him, swinging again. He dodged my fist, laughing hysterically the whole time. But he ran out of real estate when he backed into the car. I grinned evilly and launched again. He grabbed my arm and held it above my head, capturing my other wrist when I raised it. He yanked, and I stumbled into his chest—his hard chest. He was taller than me, and I had to look up at him. His eyes were sparkling, and I couldn’t tell if they were the same piercing blue as on TV.
“You’re way too easy,” he chuckled.
My cheeks grew instantly hot as I ducked my head. “I have never been accused of that in my entire life.”
Laughing even harder, he loosened his hold on my wrists. “I didn’t mean that way! I meant easy to annoy.” I tried to yank my wrists out of his hold, and he let me loose, grabbing my shoulders instead. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. How old are you … umm… I don’t even know your name.”
“It’s Isabella Ames,” I spit, yanking my shoulders from his clutch. “And I’m nearly eighteen.”
“Nearly as in when?” he asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“Two weeks. Why? Thinking about molesting me?” I asked sarcastically. Not nice, I know, but I was pretty upset and utterly humiliated.
“Please,” he muttered. “I don’t have to molest anyone. Did you see the girls chasing me back there?”
Wrenching my shoulders out of his grip, I climbed on the hood of the car. I dug out my cell phone to check the time, eager to end the conversation. It was pretty late, or really early, depending on how you looked at it. He hopped up next to me, and we both settled on the windshield again.
“I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” he whispered.
“You didn’t,” I lied.
“Do you need to be home or something?”
“No,” I said with a half laugh. I proceeded to explain about Seth’s hotel room party. “I’m in no hurry to get back.”
He nodded. “I understand. Our manager usually arranges all these after-party things, but I just wasn’t in the mood to attend tonight. So, I snuck out and grabbed a cab because I wanted something to eat. Stupid move on my part—I should have just hid out in my room.”
“Are you staying at the hotel where the concert was?”
“Yeah,” he said stretching his arm behind me. “It’s pretty nice.”
“It is,” I said, eyeing him suspiciously as the Idaho hotel sprang to mind. . “Don’t trash it, okay?”
“Geez,” he said as he ran his hands through his thick, dark hair. “I’ll never hear the end of that one, huh?”
I sat up, gaping in disbelief. “Did you really trash that hotel?”
He flashed a crooked smile, making the skin around his eyes crinkle. My heart fluttered. “Believe what you will, Iz.”
Huh? I gawked at him, my mind a swirl of confusion. “What is… Iz?”
He closed his eyes and shrugged nonchalantly. “Your name.”
“Just wonderful,�
�� I muttered, falling back to the windshield. I very much enjoy sarcasm.
Chuckling, he ruffled my hair. “Tell me about your school.”
I leaned against his outstretched arm, my own arm brushing his side. I prattled on about my school, my friends, and my classes. I glanced at him every few minutes to make sure I wasn’t boring him, but he really seemed enraptured by my descriptions.
“Your parents must be loaded to afford that place,” he mused.
“They do okay, I guess, but my grandfather actually pays my tuition. He owns the law firm where my parents practice. After my grandmother died, he decided to spend his money on Seth and me. We’re his only grandchildren.”
“I bet your dad hates that,” he said.
“Not really. I mean, all that money will go to my dad someday anyway.”
“I guess,” he said. He gave my shoulder a quick squeeze. “Do your parents get along okay?”
“Ugh! Disgustingly well. They’re always off on second honeymoons.” I winced a little bit. Yeah, it was nice that my parents were still in love all these years later, but it could sometimes be embarrassing.
“And you and your brother are close?” he asked.
“Yeah, we are. We hang out a lot in the summer. He can be overprotective but not in an irritating sort of way,” I explained.
“Me and Greta are sort of close. We don’t really hang out a lot but we talk. She calls me when she needs to vent and stuff like that. I’m glad; helps me keep track of her.”
“How old is she?”
A fond smile graced his lips. “She’ll be nineteen in January. She’s starting her first year of college, but her school is in Chicago so she still lives with Dad.” His smile widened. “Dad is great. He’s close to us both. He’s always been so supportive of my career and never missed a gymnastics meet or dance recital of Greta’s.” He paused to study the sky as a pleasant silence descended upon us. The night songs were fading, but the sun was still an hour or two away. “Are you excited about your senior year?”
“Not really,” I admitted. I was actually afraid it was going to be as boring as past years.
“Why not?”
