Nova and Quinton: No Regrets (20 page)

“Nova, get your head in the game,” Lea shouts over the chatter of voices around us. We’re seated in a booth, waiting to go on. The whole place is decorated with red Christmas lights and the cheeriness of them clashes with the black walls and makes the place seem eerie. Tristan wandered off to the bathroom, but he’s been gone for over ten minutes and I’m wondering if he took a detour. I hope it’s to find a girl and not get a drink or something even worse. This place is making me uneasy because it’s crawling with temptation. I know because I’ve seen a few drug exchanges happen. Jesus, why did I let him come? Especially with all the sketchiness with that Jazz guy. I was so distracted by his overly friendly attitude that I forgot how this place was.

Lea waves her hand in front of my face and I flinch. “Earth to Nova.”

“Sorry.” I blink my attention from my glass of water and look at her. “I’m dazing pretty badly, aren’t I?”

“Yeah.” As soon as she says it, I glance at the crowd again, thinking I see Tristan, but it’s just another blond-haired, boy-band-member-looking guy.

Lea crosses her arms and assesses me from across the table. “Okay, what the hell is your problem?”

“Nothing,” I say, not ready to talk about it—say it aloud—deal with it. I wonder if Delilah’s mom will find out exactly how she passed away. I wonder if it matters, because in the end it doesn’t change anything. She’ll still be gone.

“I know when you’re lying,” Lea says sternly, and then she puts her hand on the table. “So just fess up.”

“It’s nothing,” I tell her, slumping back in the booth. “My mom and I just had a fight. That’s all.”

“Over what?”

“Over me coming home for Christmas.”

She takes a drink of her water. “I thought she was okay with you staying here for the holidays just as long as you came home for a few days around New Year’s?”

I scratch my tattoo, hating that I’m lying, but talking about Delilah isn’t an option yet. “Yeah, I thought so, too, but she changed her mind.”

She gives me a sympathetic look. “You could always go home.”

I shake my head. “No, I have too much stuff to do with work and stuff.”

“Well, then cheer up, missy.” Lea points a finger at me. “Your mom will get over it, just like she does with everything you do. Besides, tonight’s going to be so awesome, you won’t even have time to think about being bummed out.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll try not to be a complete downer tonight.”

“Good.” She smiles and then turns in the booth to look at the dance floor. “I wonder where Brody and Braxton are?”

“Maybe they got cold feet,” I say. “And it’ll just be you and me.”

She turns around and scowls at me. “Stella would never allow that. You know she hates when people try to do solo acts.”

“It wouldn’t be a solo act.” I stir my ice with my straw. “But I’m sure everything is going to be okay… I’m sure they’ll show up.”

She considers what I said and then takes her phone from her jacket pocket. “I’m going to call them and see what’s up.”

I zone out as she yammers on the phone with Brody. I can tell by the way she keeps laughing and twirling her hair that she’s really happy right now. I need to make myself cheer up and be a better friend, like I wasn’t with Delilah. So I sit up straighter and put on my best happy face as she hangs up the phone.

“They’re running late,” she announces as she picks up a few fries from a basket between us. “But they’ll be here in just a few minutes.”

I grab a handful of fries. “You seem happy, when you’re talking to Brody, I mean.”

She pops some fries in her mouth. “I am happy.” She grins from ear to ear. “He makes me really happy, Nova.”

“How long have you been seeing him?”

“It’s about damn time you asked,” she says, wiping her fingers on a napkin.

“Hey.” I frown. “You’re the one who kept the secret from me. How was I supposed to ask questions about him when I didn’t even know about him?”

“Yeah, you’re right… still, you barely seemed interested in him, even after I told you.” She scoops up another fry and dips it in the cup of ranch. “But that’s okay. You’ve been sad lately.” She pauses, the fry in her hand, dripping ranch on the table as she waits for me to say something, probably for me to give an explanation as to why I’ve been so sad.

“I’ve just been bummed out over silly things,” I lie, afraid that if I start talking about everything, I won’t be able to stop. The floodgates will open and I’ll lose it, right here in the bar. “Work and school stuff.” I sit up straighter in the booth. “But I’ll try to cheer up, and I want to hear about Brody.”

She seems unconvinced, but says, “Well, I’ve been seeing him since the middle of September.”

“That long?” I ask, and she nods. “Jesus, how did I not know this?”

She rotates in her seat and points at Tristan, who’s standing at the bar, chatting with the bartender. “Because that one’s had you distracted, along with the sad, brown-eyed one you spend all your time on the phone with.”

“Dammit,” I curse, getting out of the booth and shoving through the crowd toward Tristan. Why does he have to choose to drink tonight of all nights, when I’m already cracking apart?

When I arrive at the bar, Tristan’s laughing at something the bartender is saying.

“Hey, I was just talking about you,” he says, smiling at me.

I smell the Jack Daniel’s on his breath as soon as he speaks, and then notice the glass on the counter. “You drank.” I sound horrified.

He rolls his eyes, like it’s the most absurd thing he’s ever heard. “I had one drink.” He holds up his finger. “And I’m a recovering drug addict. Not an alcoholic.”

Jesus, can this night get any worse? “Yeah, but you told me once that one can easily lead to the other. Remember?”

“I say shit all the time.” He dismisses my worry, turning to face me. Then he leans against the bar and puts his elbow on it, all casual and relaxed, but definitely not sober. “Besides, I only did it because of you.”

“Because of me?” I ask, confused. “Why? What did I do?”

“It’s not what you did,” he says, his gaze flicking to my lips. “But what you didn’t do.”

God, please don’t let this conversation go where I think it’s going. “I’m sorry if I forgot to do something,” I say, noting that he’s sort of acting like an ass, which is his telltale sign that he’s been doing drugs.

He lets out a soft laugh, his forehead furrowing. “You’re so naïve sometimes.”

“Hey, I am not,” I say, turning my back on him, offended because I’m not naïve. I know exactly what he’s talking about. I just don’t want to deal with it tonight.

He catches my arm and stops me from leaving. “Nova, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” He draws me back to him and just like that my crappy night gets even worse. Because without warning, he kisses me, tasting like Jack Daniel’s and vulnerability and reminding me of our first kiss, only I was trashed then and there was a lot more tongue involved. This time it’s just on the lips, no tongue, thankfully.

When he pulls away, he mutters something that sounds an awful lot like “Wow.” Then he lets go of my arm and slants back to look me in the eyes. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a few months now.”

“I…” I open my mouth to say something—anything—to salvage this situation, but I just struggle to find my voice.

As it starts to click that I’m not on the same page as him, his expression sinks. But before he can say anything, Lea shows up and interrupts us. “We’re on in like twenty, so we need to get your drums out of the car and into the back area.” She’s bouncy and buzzing with adrenaline and excitement.

“Okay.” I glance at Tristan. “Can we talk about this later?”

He shrugs, his expression cold. “Is there anything to talk about?”

“Maybe.” I scratch my tattoo, wishing there were an answer there in the words, a solution that would fix this. “Just please don’t go anywhere.”

He doesn’t answer and I end up walking away, feeling guiltier than I already did tonight. I worry about what he’s going to do, especially if he finds out about Delilah, and I’m going to have to tell him eventually.

Lea grabs my arm and guides me toward the back door, hissing under her breath, “What the hell was that about?” She pushes the door open and we step out into the cold, where she lets go of me. “The tension was so thick, I could seriously cut it with a knife.”

“I’ll tell you after we play,” I mutter as I hurry across the icy parking lot toward my car.

She shuffles after me, her heels clicking against the ice. “Why can’t you just tell me now?”

“Because you’re going to freak out,” I say, sticking my hand into my pocket to get my car keys out. “And your head needs to be in the game right now.”

After that, Lea and I start unloading the drums from my car. It’s late, the stars are shining, and I can’t help but think of the many times I spent staring up at the stars with my dad, Landon, and Quinton. At some point, I’ve lost them all. Quinton did come back, though, but at the same time he’s still distant. And now there’s another person gone and I swear my heart can’t take it anymore.

Knock it off, Nova. You don’t even know if she’s gone yet.

As we carry the last of the drums inside, Lea lets the door shut and then smiles at something over my shoulder. She raises her arm and waves at someone behind me. “Hey, we’re over here.” Then she whispers to me, “Nova, smile. You look like your dog just died.”

I prepare myself the best I can, trying to get my head into the game, and fake a smile as two guys walk up to us. One of them is taller, with spiky blond hair and colorful tattoos covering both his arms. The other guy is a little bit on the short side, but good-looking, with brown hair that hangs over his ears and forehead and these really blue eyes that match his shirt. He’s really stocky, too, and I’m guessing he’s Brody, the football player/guitarist.

Lea introduces us and I find out that I was right. Brody is the stockier one and seems nice enough, at least I’m guessing he is. I barely get two words out before Lea and he start making out behind the stage.

Braxton, the taller one and the bassist, seems a little uncomfortable, with his hands stuffed in his pockets as he glances around the bar, trying to avoid looking at the heavy amount of PDA going on beside us.

“Hey,” he finally says, looking at me. His eyes scroll up and down my body and he seems a little confused. “So you’re the drummer Lea’s been talking about?”

I smile, despite the massive amount of surprise in his tone. “Yep, that would be me.”

He gives me a look of annoyance mixed with disbelief. “Yeah, I think I’ll have to see it for myself because I’m not buying it, especially since you’re in a band with that Jaxon dude, who sucks.”

I glance over at Lea, who’s still in a lip lock, pressed up against the wall, then give a haughty look to Braxton. “Yeah, you will see. Trust me.” I’m not normally a mean person, but he’s being an ass and tonight I’m about to lose it. I can feel it.

“A little cocky, aren’t we?” he asks in a snide tone as he arches a brow at me.

“Only because you’re being a douche bag.” I feel like a terrible person as soon as I say it. “I’m sorry.”

“Braxton, knock it off,” Brody interrupts, still holding on to Lea. There’s lipstick all over his mouth and jaw and Lea’s is smeared. “Nova’s helping us out here and you don’t need to be an asshole.”

“Sorry,” Braxton mutters, and then Lea and Brody go back to making out. Braxton scratches at the back of his neck, looking over at the bar. “So do you want a drink? I could go get us a couple of shots and maybe we could try to chill out.” He sounds doubtful.

“No thanks. I’m not a big drinker and I don’t do shots at all.”

“Okay, I guess that’s cool.” He pauses and I can tell he’s struggling for something else to say. He stuffs his hands into his pockets and rocks back on his heels. “So how long have you been playing the drums?”

“A few years,” I say, and he nods with vague interest, staring over at the tables, where a waitress is bent over, her dress so short she’s flashing the entire room.

Things get quiet after that. I think about leaving, but I’m worried that the moment I step away, we’ll be called to go on. Finally, after a very painful twenty minutes, Stella comes back and tells us to “Get your asses up there.”

“Wait, we need to decide what song we’re going to open up with,” Lea says as Brody picks his guitar up off the floor and starts heading for the stage area.

“You guys haven’t picked out your lineup?” I ask, ready to get this show on the road, ready for a break that only my drums can give me. I just need to clear my head for a moment. Think about music. Forget about all the crap that just hit the fan. Braxton shakes his head and then the three of them start arguing about what cover would be the best one to start with. I try to stay calm as I lean back against the wall and watch Stella get impatient with their lack of organization. I know she might very likely kick them out of the lineup and so I finally step forward and offer what I think would be a good song to start out with.

“How about ‘Tears Don’t Fall,’ by Bullet for My Valentine?” I suggest, because I want to really beat my drums up at the moment.

“That’s a dude’s song and Lea’s a girl.” Braxton gives me the hardest look I’ve ever seen.

“I’m sure she can handle it.” I look to Lea for help. “Can’t you?”

She gives me a smile. “I think that’s the perfect song. Great choice, Nova.”

Braxton utters something under his breath that sounds an awful lot like “Stupid bitch.” I take a deep breath and brush it off because it doesn’t really matter. Not when so much other stuff is going down. Then Lea and I go up onto the stage and set the pieces of the drums down at the back, so they’re organized perfectly just behind the microphone, while Braxton and Brody plug their guitars into the amp.

The lights shine down on us and the people sitting at the tables below, and over at the bar, are barely paying attention to us, but there are still enough people that it gives me butterflies. But I like the feeling. In fact, I welcome it. That’s what drums are to me. A distraction. From everything going on around me. All my problems. The aching inside. The confusion. My thoughts.