Page 27 of Don't Love the Boy Next Door
“Hey.” I lean against the doorway, flicking some wet bangs out of my eyes. “Looks like the new song is coming along.”
He grins as he glances down at the pad. “Yep. Finally got something decent.”
I remain at the door, listening to him play and sing softly. The guy has a good voice, not like my average one. He’s got this dreamy look on his face, like he’s the happiest guy on the planet.
“You’re in a good mood,” I say.
He stops playing. “Yeah, guess I am.”
I straighten up. “Because of band practice last night?”
“Yeah, guess so.”
Whatever messed him up this past Saturday evaporated into thin air. He and Katie were fire last night, which only fueled me and Cody. We had the best practice we’ve ever had, even when Charlotte was our lead singer. As much as I love Charlotte, Katie is a much better singer than her. I know I got mad at Cody, but he was just being honest. Now I see for myself just how talented our lead singer is.
And I also couldn’t ignore the sparks flying between my brother and Katie.
Eric glances up from the guitar. “What?”
“What?”
His eyebrows furrow. “You’re looking at me funny.”
Shaking my head, I lean against the wall again. “Nope. Not looking at you funny.” I lift a brow. “I noticed you and Katie had a lot of fun last night at practice.”
His fingers freeze on the chords. “Yeah. I mean, we sounded great together.”
It’s more than that, but I’m going to keep quiet about that. Eric has always been confident with girls, but I’ve never seen him as lost as he is with Katie.
He continues playing and I watch him for a few minutes. Then he stops and looks at me again. “Want to jam?”
“I think I need food first. Did Mom say there are leftovers in the fridge?”
He follows me to the kitchen, where I take out the lasagna and heat it up. Eric’s gaze is on the fridge, though it doesn’t look like his mind is even here. I don’t need to ask who he’s thinking about. The girl next door.
He snaps in, maybe feeling my eyes on him. “Why do you keep looking at me like that?”
“No reason.”
The microwave beeps and I take out the food. We don’t say anything to one another as we eat. This silence, I hate it. Mom’s not here. She’s working because our jerk of a dad refuses to help out. So instead of eating dinner like a family, she gobbles something down at work. And then she comes home dead tired, still manages to make food for tomorrow (though Eric and I tell her we’re fine). I hate it. I hate him. Yes, it’s a strong word, especially when talking about the man who gave me life, but that’s how I feel.
We finish eating, clean up the kitchen, then return to his room to jam. We’ve always been in sync, like we share a mind, but it’s a little different now. Eric thinks I don’t care about the band as much as I used to. It’s kind of true. As much as I love jamming, I don’t have a passion for it like my brother does. Still, I try to do everything I can to be there for him, help him follow his dream to be a musician. Even though it stings, since it reminds me of Dad, I want to support him. Same way he supports my football.
“Great song,” I tell my brother once we’re done and I gently place my bass on the floor. “Definitely as good as the others.”
“You think?”
“Yep.”
I wonder—no, I know—who the source of his inspiration is. My gaze flicks to the window and I find Katie reading a book in her room. Phoenix doesn’t seem to be there.
“What are you looking at?” Eric asks, following my gaze. A small smile forms on his mouth as he watches our neighbor read. Man, I’ve never seen him like this. He’s never been awkward and shy around a girl before.
Getting to my feet, I clap him on the back. Not going to call him out on his feelings for Katie because I don’t want to freak him out or cause any tension in the band again. We’re in a good place and I don’t want anything to mess that up.
I make my way to my room and flop down at my desk. I’ve got lots of homework to do, but I’m not in the mood. I also need to read that report, since Phoenix and I will be presenting tomorrow. I have no idea how we’re going to manage that, but I’ll do whatever I can to make sure I pass this class.
I read the first page, then find my mind wandering. I can see so much of her personality shining through the pages. Will Mrs. Holden realize I’m not on the page? Maybe not. She was so excited to hear we finished already that I think she’ll give us an A on the spot. Besides, as long as I nail the presentation tomorrow, I should be okay.
