Page 43 of Fallen Stars

For her. For me. So she can be with Desmond. So I can be with Oliver.

Reaching across the table, I take her hand. “Friends. Nothing more.”

Will this day fucking end already?

What I thought would be two or three hours of schmoozing and appeasing my and Abigail’s parents has turned into an all-day event.

When Hailey’s Fire started their set, Abigail and I moved closer to the stage. Teens and adults cheered and whistled and sang along with their songs. Hailey riled up the crowd as Tripplucked the strings of his bass, his gaze on Hailey more often than not. And Oliver… fuck, he looked fantastic behind the drums. Sweat beading his skin and dampening his hair. The way his muscular arms contracted and flexed as he got lost in the music.

Every show I’ve been to, every practice I watch, my eyes are locked on Oliver most of the set. I admit my attraction to him plays a major role in my ogling. But it isn’t just that. When Oliver sits behind his drums, something magical and inexplicable happens. He isn’t just playing music. Heisthe music.

But it’s been hours since Hailey’s Fire played their last song. Hours since I’ve seen Oliver. And too many hours of close proximity with my family and the Calhouns.

My father has informed no less than two hundred people that Abigail and I are dating. Bragging that he knew years ago we would be aperfect match. Oblivious of reality, my father couldn’t be further from the truth.

String and post lights glow around us, gradually outshining the fading sun. For the umpteenth time, I scan the crowd for Oliver. When his set ended, he probably stayed with Hailey and Trip or sought out Kirsten, Skylar, and Delilah—his other close friends.

The air around me shifts and grows insufferable with each breath. Goose bumps dance over my skin as my stomach cramps uncomfortably.

“Would you stop fidgeting?”

I jolt then stiffen as my mind registers my father’s voice. Clench my fingers into fists until my knuckles burn. Gnash my molars as irritation ripples through my veins.

Twisting to look at my father, I keep my expression blank. “If I actually wanted to be here, if any of this interested me, it’d be a nonissue.”

His top lip twitches as annoyance sparks in his eyes. Countless unspoken words linger in the air between us. But he won’t give them a voice. Not now. Not when the majority of the town watches on. Not when his true persona may jeopardize his mayoral role and the townsfolk’s perception of him.

One thing matters to Jefferson Thornhill-West. His public persona. After that, my mother and brother.

“Did you not agree to join Abigail today?” He glances down at his watch, purses his lips, then shifts his gaze to the sky. “Your behavior reflects on her now that you’re together.”

I jerk back an inch as my nails dig into my palms. “You have got to be fucking joking.”

“Watch how you speak to me, boy.”

With a subtle shake of my head, I shift my attention to the crowd and let my eyes lose focus. For a moment, I lose sight of my surroundings. Then fire licks my skin as fury heats my blood. In a blink, everything sharpens.

“I’m not a fucking boy,” I grit out. “And I’m not some damn toy to dress up and flaunt around town.” My hands twitch at my sides as I glance at his profile. “I amnotyou. Nor do I ever want to be.”

I need to get out of here. Now.

One foot in front of the other, I walk away from my version of hell.

“Where are you going?”

I don’t stop or spare a glance over my shoulder, which will undoubtedly anger him more. “To piss.”

Weaving through the endless sea of townsfolk, I slow when I spot Oliver in the distance with friends. Vivid, addictive smile on his handsome face, he laughs a beat before Skylar shoves his shoulder. And then his laughter dies down as awareness lights his expression. His attention darts from one person to the next in the crowd until our eyes lock.

Under his surveillance, I come alive. For the first time in hours, I take a full, deep breath.

An odd pang surfaces in my gut. An edgy spasm in my side. Both of them small, bitter reminders that I’m not an anonymous person in Stone Bay. That I have eyes on me.

I jerk my chin away from the main festivities. Oliver gives me a nod, but waits to follow.

The farther I get from the food and games and entertainment, the fewer people I pass. Twilight fades as darkness sets in. The last tent glows behind me as I trek farther and head for the trees, desperate for the obscurity, eager for the anonymity.

Leaning against an evergreen trunk, I face the festival and wait for Oliver. Equally as eager to see me, he doesn’t make me wait long.

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