Page 36 of Ticket to the Stars: Part One

Was she just saying that, or did she really mean it? When I turned my head to the side to look at her, to try to figure out the answer for myself, her blue eyes caught me. I’d left a small light on in the kitchen. Combine that with the light coming from the TV, and it was more than enough.

Her eyes were so freaking blue. Like, as blue as the damn ocean in the Caribbean. Warm and clear, vibrant and beautiful.

I was using that word an awful lot to describe her lately. It wasn’t right.

No, it wasn’t right, and yet it was the only word that came close.

“I guess I should…” I trailed off, still caught in those crisp blue eyes, noticing how thick her eyelashes were, how they framed those beautiful eyes without the need for any makeup. “Let you be,” I finished lamely.

Her reply came swiftly, “You don’t have to go. You could… you could say, if you want. You can pick what we watch.” She retrieved the remote and offered it to me, a look of expectancy on her face.

I should really go. I should… I should refuse the remote, get up right now, and go back to my room. I should let Angel stay out here by herself, now that she had some Advil and some food. She’d probably get sleepy and fall asleep soon. She didn’t need company for that.

All that aside, I didn’t get up. I didn’t go. “I guess I could stay, for a little bit. I don’t care what we watch.” And that last part was true. I didn’t give a shit what was on the TV. Hell, I’d suck up a stupid laugh track if that’s what Angel wanted to watch—just don’t ask me why. I wouldn’t have an answer for you.

She set the remote down and smiled, and I had to fight the way that smile made me feel. Like I was doing something right. Like I could ignore the hurt and the anger inside to go along with this. Like I wanted, for the first time, to actually give Angel and this rebrand of Black Sacrament a shot.

How could anyone be on the receiving end of a smile like that and say no?

Angel had her legs tucked beneath her ass, the blanket a pile on her lap, and she offered some of that fuzzy blanket to me, for my own lap.

Well, if she was offering…

I stretched my feet out to the coffee table, and then I took some of that blanket for my lap. Not that I needed it, but, well, Angel did look awfully cozy with the blanket and that big hoodie. “Is that where you went to school?” I had to ask.

She glanced down at the logo on the hoodie. “Yeah.”

Wellington High. I didn’t know it, but Wellington sounded familiar, though I couldn’t place why or where I’d heard it before. “What was it like?” I didn’t know why I asked. It wasn’t like I was interested in getting to know Angel more.

Or, maybe that’s exactly what I was interested in.

Angel shrugged once. “A small school, literally across from a cornfield. I think I had about a hundred people in my graduating class.”

“Damn. That’s tiny. We had about three hundred, I think.” I didn’t know for sure, but I wanted to say it was around there. Our high school had been big enough it wasn’t uncommon to not know everyone in your own grade.

“You all went to the same school,” Angel said, not a question.

“Yeah, but we weren’t in the same grade. Priest and I were. Bishop’s a year younger than us, and Pope’s a year older than me. Pope wanted to start a band, and I’ve always played the drums. We recruited, and the rest—”

“Is history?” she finished with a smile. “It’s so crazy you guys took off. I know every group who starts a band hopes for it, but the odds of it actually happening are—”

Now it was my turn to finish, “Infinitely small? Yeah. Honestly, we got lucky. Really lucky. I think the whole demons on the stage thing helped us out.” Trust me, that wasn’t something I wanted to admit; wearing all black and those damn masks was something I fought against.

Not the clothes part, because I usually wore all black anyways. But the masks and the paint underneath? Yeah. I’d lost that argument, although now, looking back, I could say it was probably a good thing the band didn’t abandon Pope’s idea.

“I watched some of your live shows on YouTube,” she said. “It’s like you transform into different people when you’re on the stage. You’re…” Whatever Angel was going to say, she stopped herself, and she had to look away.

“What?”

She shifted her weight. “You’re very,” she paused to cough awkwardly, “entrancing.”

I wasn’t sure if she was talking about me specifically or, you know, all of us. Probably the latter, since when I was on stage, I didn’t move around. The most I could do with my drums was rock my head back and forth.

“Entrancing?” I echoed. Never heard anyone describe us as entrancing before. That was most definitely a first.

“You know, like… you’re just…” Whatever Angel was trying to say, she was having a rough go at it. “You’re just something else up there.” Unless I was mistaken, she was blushing—possibly a reason she couldn’t hold eye contact with me anymore.

Wait. Was sheattractedto us when we were on the stage, masks and all? If so, she wouldn’t be the first. Girls threw themselves at us all the time when we were Black Sacrament, and we had no way to know who was legal and who wasn’t at a glance. Hence why our fans weren’t to be flirted with or hooked up with or any of that.

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