Page 12 of Your Rhythm
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“Should we make a secret hand signal?” I joke.
He starts flashing different gang signs that get more and more idiotic as he goes.
“Just tell me when you see one you like.”
“Maybe you should just do that on stage instead of playing,” I tell him.
“Don’t give him any ideas,” mutters Cole.
My phone starts to buzz. I don’t recognize the number, but I have a good idea who’s calling. I smother a grin and signal that I have to take it before stepping into the stairway.
The smile I was trying to hide turns into a full-blown smirk when I pick up.
I knew she’d call me.
