Page 28 of Busted Dreams

“Yeah, right,” I spewed sarcastically. “Can you honestly tell me you don’t have any feelings for Astrid at all? That you aren’t willing to throw your lot in with the rest of us and see where it goes?”

A hefty silence. Then, “I like her, but so what? She has Beck and Rhys all over her, and I’m sure you are too. I don’t have a shot in hell. So no, we are only friends.”

“And my sister was a fucktoy.” The bitterness clogged my throat. “I don’t have time for this. Thanks for nothing,friend.”

I screamed into the ceiling, then a harsh thump followed from above. The walls were thin, but right now, the neighbors’ comfort meant less than nothing to me.

Snatching my keys up off the counter, I marched down to my SUV. I didn’t need Jonah. I could find her on my own. Then I was putting an alarm on her window and a GPS tracker on her phone.

I drove for two hours around her old neighborhood, stopping to go into small diners and shops that were still open. No one knew who she was, no one had seen her. Either she had a completely different set of favorite places than I did in high school, or she had friends lying for her.

Knowing what I did about her now, I would bet my paintbrushes it was the latter.

The sun was starting to set, and I was no closer to finding her than I was before. Beck’s show would be starting soon and Rhys’ game should be over, and here I was alone without any answers and too much turmoil inside me.

I jumped when my phone rang, hoping it was Trinity and knowing there was a no way it was actually her.

Glancing down, it was a friend from the university. We didn’t really hang out, but we were friendly. Had each other’s backs from time to time with tests and projects. He never called unless he had a reason, and even though I didn’t want to answer it, I did anyway. For shits and giggles.

“Hey, Justin, I’m busy right now, is this important?” Another street passed by with no sign of underage kids hanging out.

Damn, Trinity was just a little younger than Astrid. But she seemed years younger.

“Thatch! Man. You’re going to get a call, but I was at old man Douglas’ house tonight, and you’re going to be a very happy man. I’m fucking jealous.”

His words barely registered as I scanned a deserted parking lot close to her school. Nothing.

“Wait… Mr. Douglas, the art director?” He was the head of the entire art department. “Why were you at his house?”

I pulled into the next parking lot of an old, run down McDonald’s. I needed a break from searching, and I was having a hard enough time focusing on this conversation.

“Uh.” Justin fake coughed a few times. This was apparently just the distraction I needed, because suddenly, I was intrigued about why he was hanging out at the house of our very aloof and eccentric art leader. Mr. Douglas was very involved in the program, sitting in on classes, joining critiques, and making wild suggestions reminiscent of how Gordan Ramsey talked to his chefs. But he cared and he was loved by almost everyone. Still, he didn’t have a reputation for hanging out with students.

“So, it’s been under wraps for a while, but my mom is dating him.”

I coughed. “Your mom, the statistics professor? How did that even happen? They make no sense at all.” But it was kind of funny, even if I felt too wired for laughter.

“I know, Thatch, it was weird at first, but it works.” I could almost see him shrugging one shoulder.

“Okay…” I drew out the word because I still wasn’t sure where he was going with this. He didn’t make me wait long.

“Anyway, the foreign study program for the spring semester had a student drop out, so there’s a spot open for Florence.”

My heart stuttered in my chest, and I could almost see the painting I could make of this metaphor, the cage I would paint it in. The foreign study programs were the Holy Grail of the art program. They allowed students to study in a French or Italian city with some major artists, and it all counted as full time credits. It was complete immersion in art and the country. The students lived and breathed for an opportunity to do something like this. Everyone applied, but only ten were ever selected per trip. This being my senior year of college, it was my last opportunity.

It was my dream.

Not that I’d ever thought it would actually happen. Only the best and most talented were selected, the ones the school thought were going somewhere. I’d also never let hope seriously bloom in the pit of my stomach because reality was, I didn’t have the funds to pay for it and I couldn’t have left my sister.

Ah, fuck.

My rebellious sister who was AWOL right now.

And reality crashed over me like a tsunami, leaving no hope for air.

“What does that have to do with me?” Small tremors shook my voice. Justin couldn’t be going where I thought he was going.

But…why else would he call me? To tell me he was offered the spot? To share his success with someone else?

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