Page 69 of Forbidden Lyrics

“Well, Fender knows you wouldn’t want to deal with his. He’s sporadic. Short-tempered. Addicted to drugs and alcohol. He’s…” She frowns. “He’s a mess, hun.”

“We’re all messes, though. Aren’t we?”

“In our own ways,” she agrees. “But maybe one day he’ll find a girl who thinks he’s worth the heartache. Because loving a man like that is bound to end in it.” She sighs and runs her fingers through my hair, breaking apart the curls until they’re messy waves with a few streaks of hot pink playing peek-a-boo through my natural blonde color. It’s gorgeous. And different. And so not me, but I kind of love it.

“So,” she continues, shaking off whatever somberness had snuck its way into the bathroom at the mere mention of Fen. “Are you going to text him back?”

I blink away the haze from her heavy reflection and reread Gibson’s message. “Um… Should I?”

“Yes. You definitely should. And you should make him sweat.”

How the heck do I do that?

“Did Fen mention if Gibson’s still planning on skipping the party?” I ask.

“And let you out of his sight? Not a chance. He’ll be there, hun. I guarantee it. Now, spin around so I can start on your makeup.”

I do as I’m told, then send my response to Gibson.

Me: What’s a bad idea?

Gibson: Don’t play dumb, Dove.

I roll my eyes.

Me: I was kidding, Gibson. But Fender’s right. If I’m going on tour with the band, I need to get used to stepping outside of my comfort zone, right? This seems like a good test run. Besides, I’m going with Fen. He’ll keep an eye out for me.

Gibson: Look, I love Fen. He’s my brother. But he’s bad news for you, Dove. You need to stay away from him.

“What’s he saying?” Trisha asks. “And close your eyes. I wanna get your eyeshadow on.”

With my eyes tightly shut, I tell her, “He said that Fen is bad news for me and that I shouldn’t go to the party.”

“Ooo, sounds like he’s jealous.”

“Or he simply thinks that Fen is bad news for me, just like you do––”

“Fen isn’t bad news for you. He’s a good guy, but I’m not sure if he’s your guy,” she clarifies. “Actually, I know he isn’t, but that’s beside the point. The point is that Gibson has a thing for you and is jealous. Ask if he’s going to the party tonight.”

“But you said––”

“Ask. Him!”

I open my eyes and look down at my phone. I type my message before Trisha lacquers my upper lashes with black mascara, making them look longer and thicker than I’ve ever seen them.

Me: If you’re so nervous about tonight, you should come. Fen and I are going to share an Uber. You’re welcome to tag along if you’d like.

Gibson: I work tonight.

Head cocked, I reread the message.

“What’s wrong?” Trish asks.

“He said he’s working tonight.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

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