by Lauren Rowe
Chapter 55
Keane
Friday, 5:48 p.m.
I rap on the front door of Maddy’s apartment, my pulse racing. Why hasn’t she answered any of my calls or texts all day long? Since this morning, I’ve left Maddy a total of five messages—two voicemails and three texts—all of them asking her to please give me a call because I have something important to tell her. I thought for sure when my plane landed in L.A. and I turned my phone back on, there’d be a text or voicemail waiting for me from Maddy—but, no.
And now, honestly, I’m freaking the fuck out, imagining Maddy lying in a ditch in her car or huddled in some far corner of campus after having been assaulted by some sicko. Oh my God, if a single hair on Maddy’s beautiful head has been harmed in any way, I’ll never recover. Just the thought of something happening to Maddy is turning me into a psychopath.
I knock on Maddy’s apartment door again, panic threatening to overwhelm me.
Now that everything’s clicked inside me, I’m a man possessed. If I don’t talk to Maddy right away and tell her how I feel, I’m gonna explode.
I raise my fist to knock a third time, but the door abruptly opens and Hannah’s bespectacled face greets me.
“Keane?” she says. “What are you doing here?” Her tone makes it clear she’s less than thrilled to see me.
“Is Maddy okay?” I blurt.
“Yeah. She’s fine.” Hannah’s face flashes concern. “Why? Did something happen?”
“No, I’ve tried calling and texting her all day, but she hasn’t replied.”
“Oh,” Hannah says, her face relaxing.
“Is she here?”
“She’s out.”
“I’ve texted and called her all day and she hasn’t replied,” I repeat.
The faintest hint of a smirk dances on Hannah’s lips. “Gosh, that must feel pretty shitty to be ignored like that, huh?”
My face flushes. “Will you please just tell me where she is?” I ask evenly, choosing to ignore Hannah’s obvious barb.
“Why don’t you hang out at Dax’s for a while?” She motions across the hall. “I think Dax and the guys are at the studio all day, but I’ve got the key to their apartment if you need it. Just hang out there and I’ll text you when Maddy gets home.”
“No, I need to talk to Maddy.”
Hannah makes a “suit yourself” face at me and begins closing her door.
I stick my arm out to stop the movement of the door. “You think maybe Maddy’s at school? At the library?”
Hannah leans against the doorjamb, cool as a cucumber. “Maddy’s not at school.”
Holy fuck, Hannah sounds like a cold-blooded killer right now. I’ve never seen her like this. “Well, then, where is she?” I ask, suddenly certain Hannah knows exactly where her sister is.
“I’m not at liberty to divulge that information,” Hannah replies primly, staring me down.
I clench my jaw. “Hannah, please. Just tell me where she is. I hopped a flight just to talk to her. I’ve got something important to tell her.”
Hannah’s face softens. “You flew down here just to talk to her?”
“Yeah. I’ve got no other reason to be here. Dax doesn’t even know I’m here. She didn’t answer my calls or texts so I booked a flight and hopped on a plane and here I am.”
Hannah twists her mouth. “Well, that’s kind of awesome.” She looks at me sideways. “Will Maddy like what you came here to tell her?”
“If she still has feelings for me, then most definitely. And if not, then at least she’ll enjoy the satisfaction of watching me grovel.” Hannah’s clearly on the cusp of helping me—it’s written all over her face—so I go in for the kill. “Please, Hannah,” I say earnestly. “I know you’re pissed at me for hurting Maddy’s feelings, but I—”
Anger flashes across Hannah’s face. “You didn’t ‘hurt Maddy’s feelings.’ You broke her heart.” She lets out an angry puff of air. “Maddy’s sensitive, okay? More sensitive than the average bear. Maybe what happened would have been no big deal to another girl, but Maddy’s not like everyone else. She’s not used to being used and thrown away. I know it’s par for the course for you, Ball Peen Hammer, but for Maddy, feeling so special like that and then being tossed aside like it was nothing was a crushing blow. She thought you two had something really special.” She glares at me. “And now she feels stupid—pathetic—like she made the whole thing up in her head.”
A huge lump has risen in my throat. “She didn’t make it up,” I say. “Everything she felt, I felt it, too. I was just too big a chicken shit to admit it.”
Hannah crosses her arms over her chest. “Maddy’s been the saddest little puppy dog you ever saw since you left. This should be the time of her life—she’s at her dream school, studying the thing she loves more than life itself, meeting new people every day who share her greatest passion—and yet all she does is mope around here, missing you and then feeling like a moron for missing you.”
My heart is squeezing painfully inside my chest. My eyes are stinging. “I get it,” I breathe. I run my hand over my newly cropped hair. “That’s why I came down here. To tell her I fucked up.”
“I love your hair, by the way,” Hannah says, her attention obviously drawn by my hand movement. “It makes your eyes pop. Jeez, your eyes look like they’re photoshopped.”
“Thanks.” I drop my hand from my head. “Hannah, please. Just tell me where she is. I got some incredible news today—game changing, amazing news. And the minute I got it, the only person in the whole world I wanted to share it with was Maddy.” I look into Hannah’s eyes. “Please, Hannah. I hopped a flight to tell Maddy I’m an idiot. Please let me throw myself at her mercy before I combust. At the very least, give your sister the satisfaction of hearing me say I’m sorry and turning me down. Please.”
Hannah visibly softens. But then she does something I’m not expecting whatsoever: she rolls her eyes. “Jesus, Keane. Great timing, you idiot.”
The hairs on my arms stand on end. “Why? What’s happened?”
Hannah looks up at the ceiling, shaking her head with disdain. “After weeks of wallowing in misery, Maddy finally decided to move on today. She said pining for you was too hard and she had to face the fact it wasn’t gonna happen. This morning, she said she was gonna turn the page and move on.”
“What the fuck does ‘turn the page and move on’ mean? How the hell is she planning to do that?”
“She’s on a date, Keane.”
“A date?” I blurt. “With who?”
“Some guy she met on the drive from Seattle. She said he’s here visiting his brother.”
“Oh motherfucker. Hell no. The dude from the mini-mart?” I grit my teeth. “Hannah, you gotta tell me where she is right fucking now. Please, Hannah. If you don’t, I’m gonna go DEFCON-one here.”
There’s a beat as Hannah makes up her mind. “Okay. Come on, Ball Peen Hammer,” she finally says, rolling her eyes. She opens her front door wide. “Maddy didn’t say where the guy was taking her tonight, but I’ll track her iPhone on my laptop.”
Chapter 56
Maddy
“What’d I tell ya?” Brian says as I bite into my hamburger. “Legendary, right?”
I nod, still chewing.
“Best burger ever,” Brian says.
“Pretty good,” I say. I take a long sip of my water. “It’s got a surprising kick to it.”
“Yeah, it’s the kick that keeps you coming back for more.” He smiles wickedly.
I return Brian’s smile, but mine is merely polite. Was that Brian’s attempt at sexual innuendo? I resist the urge to sigh loudly. “It’s funny you should say that,” I say, doing my best to keep our stilted conversation humming along. “Because I was just reading an article in UCLA Magazine about the top ten places to get a burger in L.A. and it said the—”
“Maddy.”
I look to my right and instantly have a seizure. “Keane?” I blurt, blood rushing into my face
. “What...?” Oh my God, he looks insanely hot. His spikey blue mop has been shaved down into a dirty-blonde buzz cut—and now that Keane’s face doesn’t have to compete with his hair for attention, his gorgeous eyes are glowing like two blue coals.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, baby doll,” Keane says smoothly, a smile dancing on his beautiful lips. “I was outside, parking my white horse.’”
I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. What the fuckity is Keane doing here? And now of all times, when I’m sitting here with frickin’ Brian on a freakin’ date?
“The guy from the mini-mart?” Brian blurts. “Seriously?”
“Hey, Brian,” Keane says, smirking. “Sorry to cock-block you again, brah, but I gotta talk to my girl.” He looks at me. “Hey, babe, you didn’t send me my homework assignment this morning. How am I supposed to be Ball Peen Hammer without my partner in crime, Maddy Behind the Camera?”
I’m speechless. That’s why Keane’s here, out of the blue—when I’m on a date with frickin’ Brian—because I didn’t send him a text instructing him what freaking video to record this morning?
“I... was...” I stammer. Oh good lord. My tongue feels thick and useless inside my mouth. “I... um. Didn’t. Gah.”
Keane seems unfazed by my inability to string two words together. “So, seeing as how you left me to my own devices, I was forced to use my pea-brain to come up with my own idea for today’s video,” Keane says, his eyes twinkling. “And, actually, if I do say so myself, I totally nailed it.”
I can’t fathom what’s happening. Why is Keane here out of the blue—and looking so goddamned gorgeous? Is he trying to torture me?
“And then, lo and behold, after I’d finished recording my totally awesome video,” Keane says, his voice cutting through the firestorm of my racing thoughts, “I thought it was so fucking kewl—and, yes, I’m spelling that k-e-w-l—I had to show it to you right away or I felt like I was gonna explode.”
I look at Brian, my cheeks burning, and find him looking completely annoyed.
“But, gosh darn it, Maddy, you didn’t return any of my calls or texts all day long,” Keane continues. “Which serves me right, by the way—I know I totally deserved that shit—so, of course, that left me no choice but to fly down here to show you the video in person.” He flashes a huge smile, showcasing his dimples.
I can’t smile back at Keane—my mouth muscles don’t seem to be under my control at the moment. “You flew all the way down to Los Angeles to show me a video?” I sputter. My brain feels like it’s short-circuiting. All I want to do is leap out of my chair, throw my arms around Keane’s neck, kiss his beautiful lips, and sob to him pathetically about how much I’ve missed him. But I can’t do it. Keane has very clearly informed me he wants to be my friend and nothing more, and I’ll be damned if I’m gonna beg a man to want me, no matter who he is or how much I want him. “I can’t do this right now,” I manage to say, my calm tone surprising myself. “Maybe tomorrow?” I glance at Brian and try to smile reassuringly, though I’m quite certain I’m not succeeding.
Keane holds his phone out to me. “Sorry, man-eater. It’s gotta be now.”
I feel like I’m gonna pass out from the stress of this horribly awkward situation. Nothing even remotely like this has ever happened to me before.
“Keane,” I say imploringly, my eyes beseeching him to leave and stop torturing me. “Please.”
“Watch the video, Maddy,” Keane says evenly, his jaw set. “I’m not leaving ’til you watch it.”
Oh jeez. This situation is literally painful. I glance at Brian again. His face is red and his jaw is clenched—and that’s all I need to come to my senses. I absolutely can’t watch this video, not in front of Brian. The right thing to do is tell Keane he’ll just have to wait for me to watch his kewl video until tomorrow (if I happen to find time in my busy schedule because, news flash, I’ve got a very busy and exciting life that doesn’t involve sitting around pining for a guy who’s already told me he doesn’t want me after I shamelessly threw myself at him).
Yep, that’s most definitely the right thing to do.
And exactly what I’m going to do.
Hell yes.
Starting now.
I open my mouth and then shut it again.
Damn.
I hastily grab Keane’s phone from his open palm, blood whooshing into my ears in a torrent, but before I’ve pressed “play” on the video, Brian’s voice commands my attention.
“Hey, Maddy,” Brian says abruptly, his tone making it clear he’s extremely irritated. “I’m gonna cut out, okay? Seems like you two have a thing and I don’t wanna—”
“No,” I say forcefully, interrupting Brian. I lower Keane’s phone to my lap, ashamed of myself. “Keane and I are just—”
Keane cuts me off. “Thanks, man,” he says to Brian. “You’re absolutely right—Maddy and I do have a thing—an awesome and amazing thing.” Keane looks at me, his eyes smoldering. “A thing I’m not gonna fuck up ever again.”
I clutch my chest, completely overwhelmed. Holy crap. What the heck on a Ritz cracker does that mean?
“You cool catching a ride home with him?” Brian asks me, but he’s already rising from his chair.
I nod.
“I’ll get her home safe and sound,” Keane says. “Thanks.”
“I’m sorry,” I manage to say to Brian’s back as he strides away.
But he’s already gone.
I look at Keane, my breathing shallow, my cheeks hot. “You and I have a thing?” I whisper, barely able to get the words out.
“A fucking awesome thing,” Keane replies.
“And you’re not gonna... fuck it up ever again?”
Keane grins. “Watch the video, Maddy. I don’t wanna steal my own thunder.”
I take a deep breath, look down at the phone in my trembling hand, and cue the video—and, immediately, I’m met with the vision of Keane, shirtless and blue-haired, his muscles more ripped than ever, standing in a bathroom with Zander. Zander’s holding an electric razor in one hand and his phone in the other, and he’s recording both guys’ reflections in the bathroom mirror.
“Hey everyone,” Keane says, waving. “Welcome to another edition of ‘Ball Peen Hammer’s Guide to a Handsome and Happy Life.’ You all know my best friend Zander? Say hi, Zander.”
“Hi, Zander.”
Keane runs his hand through his tousled blue hair and his bicep bulges with the effort. “Hey, lads-in-training, I get asked all kinds of questions in the comments to my videos, so today I thought I’d answer one of the most frequently asked: ‘Hey, Ball Peen Hammer, why the fuck is your hair blue?’” Keane smiles at the camera like he’s got a secret. “Well, guys, it’s funny. Before today, I thought the full and complete answer to that question was this: I dyed it to help Zander bag the girl of his dreams. Basically, Z saw this girl in a bar and fell instantly in love with her (‘cause, unlike me, Z has absolutely no problem with love at first sight), and, since Z’s dream girl was thinking about dying her hair blue, Zander volunteered me to be her guinea pig.” Keane shrugs. “At the time, I figured it was a no-brainer—anyone would dye their hair blue for their best friend to have a chance at love, right? Well, I’ve since learned, based on people’s reactions to my hair, that ‘normal’ people apparently would not permanently dye their hair blue to help their best friend bag his dream girl. I know, crazy, right? What’s wrong with these purportedly ‘normal’ people?”
I look up at Keane, confused about where this thing is headed.
“Keep watching,” Keane says, motioning to the phone in my hand.
I look down again.
“So I’ve come to realize something: I’m not normal, guys. And that epiphany about myself, along with a well-timed conversation with my momma—thanks, Momma Lou—made me realize the bigger reason why I dyed my hair blue: because I believe in every man’s pursuit of happiness. So if my best friend thinks he’s found the girl of his dreams, the gir
l that’s gonna make him handsome and happy all the livelong day, then I’m sure as hell gonna do whatever I can to help him bag that girl. He wants to hit a homerun in life, then I’m right there with him, cheering him on. Because I believe in swinging for the fences, guys. I admit I lost sight of that for a while, but I’ve figured it out again and I’m not gonna forget it. Guys, if you wanna be a handsome and happy lad, you gotta keep shooting for the major leagues, no matter what curve balls life throws at you. If you swing and miss or fall on your face, at least you can say you went out swinging, right? At least you’ll have no regrets.” Keane takes a deep breath in the video. “Which brings me to the reason Zander’s holding that razor: it’s time for me to swing for the fences, lads. That’s right, I’m gonna take my shot at bagging the girl of my dreams this time.”
Zander holds up the razor in the video.
“Oh man, guys, this dream girl of mine is smart, funny, sweet. She’s loyal. Feisty. Creative. Talented. Easy to talk to. And, on top of all that, she’s sexy as hell, too. Best I ever had, not even exaggerating, and I’ve had a lot.” He winks. “I mean, seriously, what more could a guy want?”
I feel my cheeks burst with color.
“Don’t forget she’s adorbsicles, too,” Zander says.
“She is,” Keane confirms, pointing at Zander emphatically. “A cutie patootie, I’d even say.”
“I called it,” Zander says proudly. “She called you a ‘jerksauce’ and ‘dickweed’ and I knew she was adorbsicles.”
“You totally called it, baby doll, right after you sent her an unsolicited dick-pic.”
They high-five.
Keane looks at the camera again. “So now I’m sure you’re wondering, ‘Who the fuck is this amazing girl, Ball Peen Hammer? I wanna take a look-see to satisfy my curiosi-tay.’ Well, sorry, guys, you can’t see her. Because the funny thing about my girl and me is that, as much as I love being in front of the camera, my girl hates it. All my girl wants to do is be behind it and run the show, which is something she does like a boss, bee tee dubs.”
