Page 21 of Tell Me When It's Over

“And home is…?”

“Phoenix, Arizona.”

“No shit. Played a show there once.”

All I say is, “I know.” And I do. When his band booked one of the stadiums, the city became chaotic with fans swarming and selling out the show in a matter of hours. I know because I tried getting tickets with money my friend Anna and I saved up together. The seats would have been bad with how little we had, but it still would have been worth it. Her mom even offered to take us as long as mine agreed because Anna is a huge Single Division fan.

“Do you not want to know Harry?” His question startles me. It isn’t full of judgement, just curiosity.

Rubbing my lips together, I lift my shoulders in uncertainty. Truthfully, I’ve gone twelve years without knowing my father and have done fine for myself. Mom and I have a routine. One I’m content with. I guess she wasn’t though. “I don’t know. Maybe?”

His head cocks. “You don’t want to be here.” It isn’t a question, so I don’t oblige him with an answer. “Huh. Your mom seems like she wants to be. Did she tell you why she decided to show up after all this time?”

I shake my head, feeling sorry I don’t have a better explanation for him. He’s fishing for one, I know as much. “Mom and I don’t talk much about stuff like this. I’ve asked her about my father before but gave up when she wouldn’t tell me about him.”

His lips twitch.

Mia appears with two bottles of water. Walking over to me, she extends one with a smile still on her face. “Thought you might be thirsty.”

“What about me?” Kyler cuts in, frowning.

“You have two legs and the capability of getting to the kitchen just fine,” she replies, sitting beside me.

He eyes my legs. “Funny. It appears our little sister has two as well. But, fine. I’ll burn a few extra calories and walk all the way to the kitchen and back.”

Standing up, he shoots me a wink and then disappears from the room.

Mia says, “And people say I’m the drama queen.”

All I can focus on is what he called me.

Their little sister.

I smile to myself.

Chapter Seven

Leighton / Present Day

Passing the application to the assistant manager, I offer a wave goodbye after she tells me she’ll leave it on the desk for her boss to look over tomorrow. The café is booming with just about everyone you expect to see in the outskirts of Hollywood. A listers. B listers. People you’d normally only see in TMZ posts and on Instagram.

Normally, that sort of stuff would freak me out. I’d think about how my clothes aren’t as nice as theirs, or how my hair is a frizzy, curly, mess instead of every strand being styled to perfection in wait of a photograph being taken. For them, that sort of thing is inevitable. Mom would be no different, making sure she looked picture ready every time we went out, even before she strolled into the Bishops’ lives and ruined everything.

Now, I look at the people surrounding me, those who I may have seen on TV, heard on the radio, or read about on those trashy websites that usually only post lies, and don’t get nearly as affected. I’ve learned from living with the Bishops that they’re people too. Some of them like the spotlight, others don’t, and most people fall into the latter category like Kyler.

When I walk out into the blistering hot sun, I slip my shades over my eyes and look at the busy sidewalk. I almost get walked into by a couple that’s too focused on taking a selfie to watch where they’re going, and side-step them only to bump into someone else’s back.

I’m about to apologize when the tall figure turns around and looks down at me with a lopsided grin. My lips part when I realize who it is, heart somersaulting in my chest over the signature dark stubble, whiskey-colored eyes, and tussled sandy hair. Oh my God.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” he asks, cocking his head.

My reflection in his sunglasses looks almost comical. Now I’m judging myself. Messy hair in need of some touched-up highlights thrown up into a ponytail, sweat dotting my tan forehead, wide eyes, and pink cheeks. Seems about right considering I’m being stared at by Zayne Gray, drummer for Violet Wonders. The Violet Wonders.

Tongue tied, my lips part but nothing comes out. He chuckles and gives me a slow once over, thoroughly taking in my shorts and blouse, something halfway presentable while I job hunt, and down to my sandaled feet. My painted toes curl as his eyes travel back up the length of me and land on my face. Specifically, my lips. Yeah, he is totally staring at my gaping, fish-like lips right now. Oh God, I repeat, forcing myself to close them so I don’t start drooling.

“We’ve slept together, haven’t we?”

I nearly choke on my spit and sputter out a semi-coherent, “W-What? No!”

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