Nova and Quinton: No Regrets

Chapter 8

December 22, day fifty-four in the real world

Nova

Things have been getting really unbalanced in my life. My mom informed me that Delilah’s mother needs help looking for her daughter and that she’s going to help her. I’m not even sure why my mother is helping, but she said it was because Delilah’s mom asked, after the two of them ran into each other at the store. They aren’t really friends or anything but I guess Miss Pierce hasn’t been doing that well lately and kind of broke down about Delilah and also revealed that she’s been having health problems. Maybe that’s why she suddenly decided to start searching for her daughter after all this time.

I told my mom what Quinton told me about the fire, the gun, and the gunshot. She said for me not to worry about it. That she had a feeling everything was going to turn out okay, but she always says that, mostly because she worries I’m going to break apart anytime life gets hard. But I’ve never really given her much of a reason to think otherwise.

Then there’s Tristan. Heavy sigh. Tristan is a huge complication at the moment. He’s been acting really weird, although his health has been improving. He actually had some sort of infection and had to be put on antibiotics. The doctor said he has a really weak immune system and I got the impression that he suspected something more serious, but I’m not sure what exactly. I have some guesses that involve him doing drugs again, but he doesn’t show signs of it, at least when it comes to track marks and red rings around his nostrils. He’s been really nice lately, too, and if I’ve learned anything it’s that Tristan is an ass when he’s high.

Still, overly nice Tristan is making things slightly complicated. I’m actually starting to loathe being at my apartment, worried he’s going to finally actually try to kiss me, and I have no idea what the hell I’m going to do. I’ve been spending extra time at work and at the hotline center because of this, but I can’t stay away from my home forever.

It’s late when I get home and as I head up the stairway to my apartment, I find myself dreading going inside. I have a few sacks of Christmas presents in my hands. I’ve always been a last-minute shopper, which probably seems a little strange to some people since I have OCD and like order. It’s mostly because I hate the busyness of the stores. I shopped online for most stuff, but Lea dropped a hint the other day that she wanted a vintage Pink Floyd record, so I had to run to the music store downtown and try to find one. Lucky one of my band members works there and was able to track one down.

When I get to my apartment, I stick my head in, instantly catching a scent of cigarettes. “Lea?” I call out. “Tristan?”

“Lea’s not here,” Tristan replies and I hear something banging around.

I push the door open and walk in, slipping off my coat as I enter the living room. Then I stop dead in my tracks at the sight of Tristan hurrying to turn the television on while Jazz quickly stuffs something into the pocket of his yellow coat, a faint trail of smoke lingering in the air. I know what pot smells like and that’s definitely not the scent of pot. Still, the situation seems a little bit sketchy to me with how nervous they’re acting.

“Hey, Nova,” Tristan says casually as he sits back in the couch and puts his feet up on the coffee table with the remote in his hand.

“Hey,” I reply, glancing back and forth between the two of them. “What’s up?”

Tristan shrugs as he aims the remote at the television. “Nothing much. Jazz and I were just hanging out. Being bored and shit.”

Jazz looks at Tristan, then smiles at me as he puts on a beanie. “Yeah, just fighting the boredom of the potato state.” He gets to his feet, running his hands across the front of his coat like he’s smoothing the wrinkles out of it. “I’ll check you later, man,” he says to Tristan and brushes past me and out the door without so much as an introduction.

As soon as the door shuts, I target my attention on Tristan. “So what was that about?”

He shrugs, pretending to be fixated by the news on the television screen. “Nothing much. We were just hanging.”

I don’t believe him. “You guys were acting a little weird,” I point out as I set the presents down on the coffee table.

“Weird how?”

I shrug, setting my coat on the coffee table, eyeing his arms for signs he’s been shooting up, but he looks clean and honestly I don’t think that’s what was going on here. Still, something’s off. I can feel it in the air.

“Tristan, you’re not… I mean, you’re not doing…” I scratch my tattoo as I inch up to his side, wondering if accusing him is the right thing to do. I know if my mom had accused me back when I was getting high I would have either lied or gotten pissed. But I also feel like just letting it go means I’m not caring. “You’re not doing drugs again, are you?”

His expression hardens as he glares up at me. “Is that what you think? That I’m sitting here getting high?” He spreads his arms to his sides and glances around the clean living room. “Does it look like that’s what I’ve been doing?”

I shake my head, but something still doesn’t feel right. “No, but I saw that Jazz guy put something into his pocket.”

Tristan gets a confused look, like he has no clue what I’m referring to, but the realization crosses his face. “Oh, that was his lighter. He was going to smoke in here, but I told him to put it away,” he explains.

I fan my hand in front of my face. “It smells like he did.”

He presses his lips together, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “Fine. If you want to know what’s up, then yes, he smoked in here. Sorry for breaking the rules.” He’s mad at me and I open my mouth to say… well, I don’t know, but he reaches forward and threads one of his fingers through the belt loop of my jeans, pulling me toward him. His anger turns to dead seriousness as he looks me straight in the eye. “Nova, I swear to you that I’m not doing drugs.”

I study him, something still off, but ultimately I nod. “All right, I’m sorry for accusing.”

“I forgive you, but only if you’ll watch a movie with me.” He yanks on my belt loop and pulls me forward until I stumble onto the couch beside him, pretty much landing on his lap.

I start to move off him, but he yanks me back so I am sitting on his lap. My lips part and my eyes widen as he snakes his arms around me, the scent of cigarette smoke and his cologne surrounding me. “Tristan, I—”

It’s at this moment that Lea decides to stroll into the house. As she shuts the door behind her and turns to face us, her expression changes from elated to shocked.

“Holy hell.” She takes in the sight of us and her jaw nearly drops to her knees.

I press her with a look, begging her not to say anything to make the situation worse. Help me, I mouth.

She takes the hint and then, being the awesome friend that she is, says, “Nova, can I talk to you in my room for a minute?”

I gratefully nod and then get up from Tristan’s lap like it’s on fire. Then Lea and I leave the living room with Tristan giving us a weird look as we duck down the hallway. Once we’re in Lea’s room and the door is closed, she spins toward me with her hands on her hips. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah, holy shit,” I say, shaking my head in disbelief as I pace her room.

“What the hell was that?” she asks, unbuttoning her black plaid coat.

I shrug, counting the number of nail polishes she has on her vanity, not really caring at the moment that I’m reverting back to my bad habits. I’m stressed out and I need relief. Just a minute or two and then I’ll stop. “I have no idea what happened. One minute I was making sure everything was okay with him and the next he’s pulling me down onto his lap.”

She tosses her coat onto her bed, frowning. “I knew this was going to happen.”

I stop pacing and look at her. “How?”

“Because I can see it in his eyes every time he looks at you,” she says, unlacing her boot as she sits down on her bed. “He likes you. And I mean like-likes you.”

I want to argue with her, but only because I don’t want to accept the truth. “I know… he had a thing for me once a year or so ago.”

“I think he’s never gotten over it,” she says, kicking off her boot. “But the question is: do you think of him that way?”

I immediately shake my head. “No, Tristan’s just a friend.”

“Are you sure?” There’s accusation in her tone. “Because you don’t really crush on guys and I’m starting to wonder if maybe you just don’t realize when you have feelings for someone.”

“I know when I have feelings.” I sigh and sit down on the bed beside her. “I’ve had them before once… twice.”

She wiggles her foot out of her other boot. “With Landon. And.…?” She waits for me to say it, even though she knows.

“You know it’s Quinton,” I say, pulling the elastic out of my hair and combing my fingers through it.

“How would I when you never say it?”

She’s right. Way too right. I never say much aloud unless it’s to my camera.

“It’s hard to say it sometimes,” I disclose, side-braiding my hair and securing it with an elastic. “When I don’t know how he feels or if I’ll ever see him again.”

She takes a shimmering, knee-length black dress off a hanger. “I’m sure you will.”

I shake my head as she steps deeper into the closet to change. “I’m not so sure. Every time I talk to him… it seems like he thinks that it might be too hard to see me again… he keeps saying one day down the road but I don’t know…” I rest back on my elbows and sigh.

She steps out of the closet, wearing a tight sheer black dress with sparkling heels. “You could always just ask him.” She reaches for the silver jewelry box on her vanity.

“I don’t want to push him,” I say, sitting up. “He always gets uncomfortable whenever I say something about visiting him.”

“You don’t need to be pushy when you ask.” She takes out a black diamond earring and clips it on her ear. “Just make it a question and be okay with whatever answer he gives you.” She puts the other earring in and then does a little twirl with her hands out to her sides. “How do I look?”

“Super fancy.” I stand up. “Where are you going?”

“Out.” She winks at me as she collects her purse.

I hurry and cut her off as she strides toward the door. “No way.” I span my hands out to the sides, trying to block her path. “Enough with the secrecy. Fess up.”

She rolls her eyes at me as she reaches for her coat on the bedpost. “I’m just going out with some friends.” She drapes the coat over her arm. “Jesus, Nova. You need to chill out.” She pushes past me, but halts before the door. “Look, I’m your best friend so I can say this. Do yourself a favor and let Tristan know where you stand, wherever that may be.” She grabs the doorknob and pulls the door open. “And let Quinton know where you stand. It’ll be good for you, I think.”

I want to be angry with her for telling me to do things I don’t want to, but I can’t. “Thank you, Lea,” I say, following her out the door. “But I still think you’re lying to me about where you’re going tonight.”

“Think what you want.” She grins in response. “Totally off the subject, but can I borrow your car, in just a bit, for a couple of hours?”

I think about telling her no unless she’ll fess up to where she’s really going, but I’m not that big a bitch. “Sure, but you’ll have to drop me off at practice and then pick me up afterward.”

She frowns, because she hates taking me to practice. She actually probably would have been in my band if she hadn’t broken the heart of Jaxon, the lead singer. “Fine, but I’m staying in the car.”

“That sounds good to me,” I tell her. “But then again, it’s totally okay for you to come in and say hi. In fact, I know Jaxon would love it.”

“Nova, I love you to death, but you need to get over the idea of Jaxon and me ever getting together again.”

“I am over the idea, but at the same time, if you guys get back together I wouldn’t mind.”

“We won’t get back together. Ever,” she says, frustrated. “Seriously, Nova. You need to let go of the past… this is why I don’t tell you stuff.” Then she hurries down the hallway and leaves me standing there with her words replaying in my mind.

Getting stuck in the past is an issue I’ve struggled with for quite a while. I have a hard time letting go. I thought I was getting better, though, but she pretty much just threw in my face that I’m not.

I try to decide whether I should go out and tell Tristan there will be no more forehead kisses or lap-sitting. But after lurking in the hallway for a moment, I decide to go back into my room and get ready for band practice, even though it’s not for a few hours, because I’m a big chicken who’s not ready for confrontation at the moment.

Thankfully, band practice gives me time away from my thoughts. After an hour of playing, I feel good. And the amazing feeling only increases after we’re done playing. I’m bouncing up and down like a little kid strung out on candy as I’m informed that my band got a gig. And not just any gig, but one where we get to open for Peaceful Injustice, one of my favorite indie rock bands of all time, next weekend on New Year’s eve. Jaxon announces this to us in the garage of his house, the place where we practice because we’re all broke students and can’t afford to rent a studio space.

Jaxon is a pretty good-looking guy, if you like that whole mysterious rock-star look. He’s tall and kind of lanky with dark brown hair that hangs in his eyes, but in an intentional kind of way. He’s dressed head to toe in black today, with a studded belt, boots, and leather bands on his arms.

“So what do you think?” Jaxon asks me after he’s made the epic announcement.

I tuck my drumsticks into the back pocket of my jeans as I search the garage for where I left my jacket. “I think it rocks. But what I’m wondering is how the hell you managed to get them to let us open for them.”

“He’s got connections,” Spalding calls out as he unplugs his guitar from the amp. He’s got longer hair, too, like Jaxon, only his is jet black. He has a pierced eyebrow and colorful artwork is tattooed all over his arms to create full sleeves. He’s got gauges in his ears and he’s also wearing all black, but that’s normal for him.

Nikko snorts a laugh as he puts his guitar away. He’s got short hair that sort of spikes up at the top and his eyes are crazy intense because if you stare at them long enough they almost look gold. His taste in clothes is a little bit more eccentric. Right now he’s wearing this bright-red fitted shirt and these baggy black pants with zippers and buckles all over the front. His black boots have gray skeletons on them and his fingernails are black. He’s the baby of the group, only eighteen; he’s also Jaxon’s cousin.

“The only reason we got the gig is because Jaxon hung out with Stella.” Nikko laughs under his breath and then sticks out his tongue, making an obscene gesture with his fingers, and Spalding rolls his eyes.

“Children.” Spalding shakes his head and I laugh. Spalding’s twenty-two, but he acts like he’s thirty, which from the tidbits of information I picked up from Jaxon is because he became the legal guardian of his sister when he was eighteen. I’m not sure why, though, and I don’t have the lady balls to ask because, more than likely, there’s a tragic story behind it.

“Shut the fuck up,” Nikko says hotly as he picks up a bottle of water from the top of one of the speakers. “You’re only four years older than me, dumbass.” He takes a swig of the water and then sets it back down.

They start arguing and I turn to Jaxon as I pick up my jacket up off the floor in the corner of the garage. “So did you get the gig because of Stella?” I dare ask. Stella is the owner of Black & Red Ink, the place where we’ll be playing, and a very popular club in the potato state.

He shakes his head, getting a little bit uneasy as he pretends to search for something behind the freezer. “No… well, yeah, I mean she’s how I got the gig, but I didn’t like sleep with her or anything.” He turns in a circle as he looks around at the floor. “Have you seen my cell phone?”

“Yeah… it’s in your hand.” I hate the awkwardness between us, but until Lea and he can come to terms with their breakup, I think it’ll always be there, especially since I have a hunch she was out on a date earlier today.

He glances down at the phone in his hand and then shakes his head. “Sorry, I guess I’m tired or something.”

I offer him a smile. “Yeah, it happens sometimes.” I slip my arms through the sleeves of my jacket and then take the drumsticks from my pocket. “So what time are we practicing tomorrow?”

“About six,” he says, checking his cell phone screen. “I know we usually do it earlier, but I have to go out with the family for an early Christmas dinner.”

“Early Christmas dinner?” I ask as I zip up my jacket. “But Christmas is in three days, so why don’t they just wait two extra days?”

“Yeah. I’m going to be gone for Christmas and my parents think they need to have an early one for me,” he says. “I’m flying out to New York with Spalding to hang with his family for the holidays.”

“Oh. Well, I’m glad my parents don’t want to have a makeup dinner for me,” I say, ignoring the bang as Nikko bumps into one of the cymbals. “I mean, I love going home and everything, but I can’t go anywhere right now. Not when I just picked up some extra hours at work. Plus the band and our stellarly awesome gig we just got on New Year’s eve.” There’s also the fact that Tristan won’t go home and I don’t want to leave him here for almost a month. My mom’s planning on coming out after New Year’s so everything should work out.

The corners of his lips quirk. “I’m glad to see where we are on your list of importance.”

“Hey, you guys are totally important,” I say, heading for the door. “However, my job pays the bills and my education will hopefully be able to pay the bills in the future.”

“What? You’re not planning on becoming a rock star?” he jokes as he follows me, weaving around my pink drum set, the one Landon gave to me on my birthday years ago. It’s sad he never got to see me perform, just practice. He didn’t get to see a lot of things, which makes me even sadder. But it’s an obstacle that I’ve overcome and I can find solace in playing now.

I pause, contemplating what he said. “I’m honestly not sure what I’ll do… what about you?”

“I’m not sure either,” he says. “I mean, I’m majoring in general education so I have no idea what the hell I’m going to do with that or if I want to do anything with it at all.” He hurries to my side and opens the door to the wash-room for. “Honestly, if I could make a living singing, I would, but there’s a slim chance that’ll ever happen.”

“Maybe you’ll be one of the lucky ones.” I step into the room and breathe in the warm air and faint scent of cookies flowing from the kitchen.

“Maybe,” he says, but doesn’t seem too optimistic. And I don’t blame him. There is very little chance that he’ll be able to actually become a famous rock star. Life doesn’t work that way. You can try and try but it doesn’t mean you’ll get what you want. You just have to make do with what you have.

He continues to walk me to the front door and I’m hoping he’ll say good-bye to me there, since Lea’s outside. But he doesn’t and ends up walking out with me to the driveway, where Lea is waiting in my car.

She gets out to let me drive and tenses as her eyes meet Jaxon’s and Jaxon freezes in the middle of the frosted lawn. No one speaks and I can hear Christmas carolers down the street singing a very cheerful “Joy to the World.”

“Hey,” she says, cracking the tension like the ice on the ground. She glances around at the yard, the front door, the garage, pretty much everywhere but at him.

“You cut your hair,” he says, his brows knitting as he takes in the sight of her as she steps around to the front of the car. “It looks good.”

Lea touches a strand of her hair, finally looking at him. I remember that when I first met them, over a year ago, there was a sparkle in her eye every time she looked at him, but it’s not there anymore and that makes me sad. What makes me even sadder is that I wonder if that’s how Landon and I would have gotten if he were still alive. Would we have gotten to this point? I believed at the time that we’d always be together, but it’s hard to say now, especially when my feelings for Quinton are so strong.

“Thank you,” she says formally, her hand falling to her sides as she reclines back against the front of my car and crosses her arms. “I thought it was time for a change.”

That comment makes Jaxon sad. I can see it in his fallen expression and the way his shoulders sort of slump in. “Yeah, change is good, I guess,” he mutters.

Poor guy. I feel so bad for him. He’s actually been writing really depressing songs lately and I sometimes wonder if they’re about Lea.

“So we should get going,” I say, attempting to break the awkward tension as I head toward the driver’s side. “We have to go pick up some stuff for Christmas dinner.”

“You’re not going home?” Jaxon asks Lea as she heads for the passenger side of the car.

She shakes her head, opening the door. “Nah, I thought I’d stay here and catch up on some schoolwork. I’ve kind of fallen behind the last few weeks.”

Probably because she’s been spending a lot of time at football games and restaurants, and swimming, or whatever the hell she was doing that day.

“Are you going home?” she asks Jaxon, holding the door open and looking at him.

He shakes his head, fidgeting with a leather band on his wrist as twinkle lights sparkle in the background, highlighting the sadness in his eyes. “Nah, I’m actually going to New York to hang with Spalding and his family.”

“New York. Holy shit. How fun.” She rests her arms on top of the car door while I debate whether I should just climb into the car and let them chat or stop them from chatting to avoid Jaxon getting more attached. “I’ve always wanted to go there.”

“I know you have.” He steps for her with this look in his eyes like he’s about to ask her something really important.

That’s my cue to stop the conversation. “Hey, Lea, we gotta go, otherwise Tristan’s going to head out on his own to go shopping and, well, I can only imagine what he’ll buy for us to eat for Christmas dinner.”

“Probably TV dinners.” Lea chuckles under her breath. “Yeah, we should get going.” She waves at Jaxon, who looks crushed. “It was nice catching up with you. Hope you have a blast in New York.” She lowers her head into the car and climbs in.

I wave at Jaxon and he gives me the dirtiest look, like I’ve just hit him in the face or something. I’m guessing it’s because I broke up the conversation, but it’s for his own good. I know for a fact that right now Lea’s not looking to get back together with him. Maybe in the future, but I won’t say for sure because the future is always changing.

After I get into the car, buckle my seat belt, and drive down the road, Lea turns to me with excitement in her eyes. “I have a huge favor to ask you.”

“It wouldn’t by chance be helping you get back together with Jaxon, would it?” I ask with false hope.

“No.” She frowns. “Nova, I already told you that isn’t happening.”

“I know what you said, but I’m always hoping you’ll change your mind,” I say. When she scowls at me, I opt to change the subject. “Okay, tell me what your favor is.”

She lightens up a little. “I need you to play with my band tomorrow at Red & Black Ink.”

I gape at her as I slow the car down for a stop sign. It’s fairly late, the sun descending behind the hills, but there’s still enough light that I can see Lea’s face clearly. “Band? Since when are you in a band?”

She pulls a whoops face. “Oh yeah. I should probably explain that part, huh?”

I nod as I press on the gas. “Yeah, that would be awesome, since I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Hey, there’s no need to get snippy,” she says. “I kept it a secret for a good reason.”

“And what’s that?”

She bites her thumbnail as she gazes out the window at the sliver of sunlight left, painting the sky bright orange and pink. “Because…” She sighs, lowering her hand onto her lap. “Look, I get that you like Jaxon, but he just wasn’t the right guy for me, so I need you to remember that when I tell you what I’m about to tell you.”

“I don’t think you need to tell me,” I say to her. “You’re dating one of your band members, aren’t you? And that’s why you’ve been acting so vague about what you’ve been doing the last couple of months.”

She hesitates and then nods. “Well, that and I’ve been sneaking off to band practice.”

“But what about the football game? And the face painting thing?”

“Oh, Brody also plays football.”

“Brody’s the guy you’re dating, I’m guessing,” I say, unable to hide the disdain in my voice. Brody? What kind of name is Brody anyway? It sounds like a meathead’s name. Jesus, what the hell is wrong with me?

She tucks a fallen strand of her hair behind her ear as she slouches in the seat so that she can put her feet up on the dashboard. “Yeah, he’s also the guitarist of Moon Glory.”

“Moon Glory?”

“Yeah, it’s the name of our band,” she says cheerfully. “A band in desperate need of a drummer, since our old one decided to bail out on us last week. Just up and quit.” She throws her hands in the air exasperatedly. “Can you believe that?”

“Kind of.” I turn the car onto the main road in town. “Bands break up a lot.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” She sighs and then looks at me with a silent plea in her eyes. “So what do you think? Can you be our drummer?”

“I’m already in a band,” I remind her. “And I like them.”

“Yeah, but I’m your best friend,” she says, lowering her feet onto the floor and sitting up in the seat. “And I’ve been there for you a lot in the last few months.”

“I know you have,” I reply heavyheartedly. “But I can’t just up and quit when things are going so great right now… I don’t get great a lot.”

“But it’s our first gig and if we bail out on it, then Stella might not give us another chance.” She pouts, giving me her saddest puppy-dog face, trying to guilt-trip me into it.

“I’ll tell you what,” I say, turning onto the side road that leads to our apartment complex. “I’ll fill in until you can find your own drummer, but I’m not quitting my band.”

She claps her hands and bounces up and down excitedly. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

I force a smile, hoping this doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass. For one thing, I can picture Spalding getting pissed off because he thinks I’m cheating on the band or something. And Jaxon… well, God knows how that’s going to go over if he knows I’m in a band with Lea and her new boyfriend.

“So what’s the hell’s bugging you?” Tristan asks me later that night as Lea, he, and I wander around the grocery store, attempting to plan some sort of Christmas eve meal for the three of us to have in just a couple of days. I can still feel the awkwardness from earlier and it only builds every time he gives me a more-than-friendly look, which has happened four times so far.

“What do you mean?” I ask as I assess the frozen vegetable selection, tapping my finger on my lips as I decide which one to get.

“I mean, why have you had a permanent frown on your face since Lea and you showed up at the apartment earlier?” he asks, rolling up the sleeves of his blue hooded jacket, which matches his eyes.

“I’m just tired.” I yawn, pretending to be exhausted, and I am, kind of. Mentally exhausted, anyway.

He flirtingly bumps his shoulder into mine. “I know you’re lying, so fess up. What the hell is making you so down?” He pauses. “It’s not something with Quinton, is it?”

I quickly shake my head. “No, nothing like that.” I reach for the handle of the freezer door. “In fact, now that you’ve said that, it seems really stupid.”

“Tell me anyway,” he says, reclining against the cart as he studies me. “Maybe I can help you with a problem and pay you back for all the times you’ve helped me out.”

I shouldn’t do it. I know that.

I glance around the aisle. Lea wandered off to get rolls, but that was a few minutes ago and I worry she might come back and hear me talking to him. “It’s nothing. Just band stuff.”

“Like what?”

I open the door and the freezer air hits me. “Lea wants me to help out in her band. Step in for the drummer until they can find a new one.” I grab a bag of frozen corn and drop it into the cart. Then I let go of the door and it slams shut.

“She’s in a band?” he asks. “Since when?”

“For a while, I guess.”

“So that’s why she’s been acting so weird, then?” he asks, and I nod. He muses over something, then asks, “And you don’t want to help in her band out because she lied to you?” he asks, turning around and pushing the cart forward.

“It’s not that,” I say, stopping in front of the frozen pie selection. “I don’t want to help out because I worry that my band’s going to get pissed off at me and kick me out.”

“Because the singer is Lea’s old boyfriend?”

“That, and Spalding takes everything so seriously.”

“That he does,” Tristan agrees, opening the freezer door to grab an apple pie. “And I think that after only meeting him like twice.”

“So you get why I’m worried.” I squeeze up to his side and select a chocolate pie.

“Aha!” he practically screams, pointing a finger at the pie in my hand. “I picked the healthier choice.”

I roll my eyes as he grins. “Just because it has apples in it, doesn’t mean that it’s healthier.”

“It so totally does.” He snatches the pie out of my hand, flips it over, and starts reading the back. Then he puts it into the cart and starts reading the back of the apple pie, his goofy attitude dissipating. “Shit, the apple sounds almost worse than the chocolate.”

“Told ya.” I give him a cocky grin as he puts the other pie into the cart.

“And I’m telling you that everything’s going to be okay with your band,” he says, draping his arm over my shoulder. I tense. Stop breathing. My mind searching for away to shrug him off without being too obvious. “You don’t give yourself enough credit for how much people love you. If they get pissed, just show them that sweet smile and I’m sure they’ll forgive you.”

“You’re giving me and my smile way too much credit.” I pretend to step forward and assess the selection of pies again.

“No way.” He moves forward with me and touches my bottom lip with his fingertip. “I’m not giving it enough credit.” His tongue slips out and wets his lips as his eyes zone in on mine.

I swallow hard. Shit. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening.

As he looks at me with this sort of lustful look, I realize I just might have more problems than my band getting mad at me. I can see it in his eyes—he’s thinking about kissing me. Right here in the grocery store. I should take off running, right down the aisle, but I freeze in place, worried that if I reject him like that, it could mess up how good everything’s going.

My thoughts are racing in a distorted stream that doesn’t make sense and the closer Tristan’s lips get to mine, the blurrier everything around me becomes. I feel a shift, one I want to run the hell away from. Not just out of the store, but back in time to when life didn’t seem so complicated. Back when I was sure about everything. Yet I keep standing in place. Motionless. About to ruin everything.

Thankfully, Lea turns the corner with two bags of rolls in her hand. “Okay, so I couldn’t decide what kind to get,” she says, dropping the bags into the cart. “So I got both.” She gives us a funny look as Tristan steps back, stuffing his hands into his pockets, and I start picking at my nails.

“Two bags is fine,” Tristan says indifferently. “You never can have too many rolls.”

Lea looks at him like he’s crazy, but Tristan ignores her and roams up the aisle, glancing at the crackers-and-cookies section like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Did you guys almost just kiss?” Lea hisses as I wrap my fingers around the handle of the cart.

I swiftly shake my head. “No.”

She raises her eyebrows at me. “Don’t lie to me, Nova Reed.”

“I’m not,” I say in a low voice, pushing the cart forward.

But I am lying. Because I know I wouldn’t have moved away if he’d kissed me. But for what reason, I’m not sure.

By the time I get back to the apartment, I feel like a terrible person. I end up going into my room, locking my door, cranking up my music, and pretending I don’t hear Tristan when he knocks or Lea when she hollers for me to come watch a movie with her. Instead I sit on my bed and take out my photo album dedicated to Landon. I relax back in bed, leaning against the headboard, and start turning the pages. I can’t help but smile at the good pictures, the ones where Landon looks really happy. The ones of our good moments. There weren’t many, which makes it hard to remember them sometimes and easier to remember the sad times because there were so many. But when things were good, they were amazing.

Finally, after I’m on the verge of tearing up, I decide to get out my camera and record myself. I set the camera on my nightstand and aim it at myself as I turn the pages of the album.

“Once upon a time, there was a girl who liked to look at things on a positive side a lot,” I say as I stare at a picture of myself grinning at the camera, a picture Landon took; his finger ended up covering part of the lens. “She had such hope inside her that everything was going to turn out okay. That despite the tragedy with her dad, she would grow up and be happy.” I turn the page and then run my fingers across a picture of Landon with his head tipped down as he stares at something on the ground, his backyard in the background. “What she didn’t realize is that tragedy was going to hit her again and her happily-ever-after wouldn’t exist anymore. And she’d be left feeling lost for the longest time.” I flip the page over to a picture of Landon and me together, one where he’s kissing my cheek and I’m laughing because his hair tickles me. I think it might be one of my favorites. “She’d eventually find her way back to a good life again, for the most part, anyway. But when it came to relationships, she’d be confused and she’d analyze it all the time, who she was supposed to end up with in life. But an answer would never come to her and she’d eventually start wondering if maybe she was just supposed to be alone in the world.” I sit up and pull my knees up to my chest, resting my chin on top of them, and stare down at a picture that captured a moment that was gone as soon as the flash died. “That maybe her heart would always belong to a ghost.” As soon as I say it, though, I know it’s not true. Yes, Landon did take a piece of my heart with him the day he died, but not the entire thing. I know because I can feel a pull to someone else at the moment.

I lean over to my nightstand, open the drawer, and take out Quinton’s sketches, which I picked up from his apartment floor in Vegas when he disappeared from my life. I unfold them and then run my fingers across the lines and shadings. One of them is of Lexi, his girlfriend who died in the car accident. The way he captures her, the dark lines drawn with such passion, lets me know how much he cared about her. The second is a picture of himself, only half of his face is skeletal, and then the final one is of me. The lines aren’t dark and full of passion like Lexi’s. They’re actually really light, like he was afraid to draw me or something. I wonder if he was—if he still is afraid of me.

I get up and turn my music down, then go get my phone out of my jacket pocket before returning to my bed. Once I get situated on the bed, I take a deep breath and dial Quinton’s number. I haven’t told him I have his drawings, because I’m not sure how he’ll react.

But he doesn’t answer and I end up lying in my bed, feeling so alone.