Page 31 of Side Trip

Joy walked farther into Kevin’s room, gaze darting everywhere. Along the dresser, over to the nightstand with a beige lamp, and the unmade bed. Nothing in the room revealed much about the guy who’d held her interest since the fifth grade. And now she was alone with him in his bedroom. Butterflies fluttered in her throat, beat their wings inside her chest.

The house was his family’s weekend home and there weren’t many personal belongings on display, other than a tube of sunscreen and Oakley sunglasses on the dresser. Damp swim shorts bunched on the floor.

“I wasn’t expecting company.” Kevin dived for the bed and straightened the covers. He scooped up the swim shorts and dropped them in the hamper in the closet.

Joy’s gaze fell on a paper plate with a half-eaten hamburger and an empty red Solo Cup. He scrambled around the bed and snatched up the plate and cup and tossed them in the trash. He wiped his hands down the sides of his shirt.

“I ate dinner up here.” He blushed as if the admission humiliated him. “Everyone’s drunk downstairs.”

She looked at the red Solo Cup in the trash. “Have you been drinking, too?” She hoped he wasn’t a boozer. Loser boozers. Kids that never amounted to anything.

“What?” He looked at the cup. “That was a Coke. My parents would kill me if they caught me drinking.”

“They’re here?” Joy looked from the door to the window like a trapped animal. His parents would call hers if they saw her.

Kevin went to the window. Joy reluctantly followed, but stayed back from the glass, afraid someone would look up, recognize her, and mention her to Judy. He pointed at the barbecue. “That’s my dad at the grill. My mom’s in the kitchen playing overlord to the key basket.”

“The what?”

“She collected everyone’s keys when they arrived. They have to crash here if they don’t have a designated driver or pass a sobriety test. Dad has a breathalyzer. There are two kegs out back.” He tapped the window with his knuckle. “No one’s going home tonight.”

“What?” Joy risked moving closer to the window and frantically searched for Judy in the crowd. She’d better not be drinking. Judy had told their parents she’d be home by eleven. Joy sneaked up here because she knew that she could get home before their parents returned from the country club gala.

Kevin nudged her. “You all right?”

“Yes.” She bit into her lower lip, worried. What if she couldn’t get back home tonight? Her summer would be ruined. She turned toward the door, wondering how she could find a ride home tonight without her parents finding out, but her gaze caught on the steel string guitar in the corner of the room.

And just like that, all thoughts of her predicament flew out of the room.

“No way, do you play?” she asked. Like a hummingbird to nectar, she crossed the room and stood over the instrument.

“A little.” He shrugged, sheepish.

“Will you play something for me?”

He paled slightly. “I’ve never played for anyone before.”

“I’m sure you’re good,” she encouraged. He’d made a point to bring his guitar with him. And music distracted her from the hole she’d dug herself into this evening.

Kevin scratched the back of his head and grasped the neck of the guitar. “What kind of music do you like?”

“Anything.” Classic, rock, alternative, jazz—you name it. She loved to listen to it. Anything except Judy’s music.

“Uh ... all right. Let’s see. Sonic Youth?” He sat on the edge of the bed and picked at the strings, tweaked the knobs. He strummed some notes. Joy immediately recognized the tune.

“That’s not Sonic Youth,” she said, sitting beside him, impressed at his selection.

Kevin shook his head and kept on playing. He wasn’t just okay. He was good, like supergood. Her fingers danced on her thigh and her foot tapped the beat. When he finished, he casually draped his arms over the guitar and silently regarded her. Joy could only stare. She should say something, but words escaped her. One thing she did know: her crush was wicked talented. And for a girl who obsessed about music, that was everything. He was the most confident, lyrical, and attractive guy she’d ever laid eyes upon. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest, leaving her breathless.

Kevin’s throat rippled. He shifted uneasily. “That was—”

“Tom Petty’s ‘Free Fallin’,’” she blurted.

He blinked, surprised. “You like Tom Petty?”

“Love him. Bob Dylan, too.”

“That’s sick. Me too. What about Neil Young?”

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