Page 22 of Tell Me When It's Over

His “huh” is low. Before he can say anything else, a silver car that looks like it costs an arm, leg, and a kidney combined, pulls up to the curb and honks. A guy yells out, “Get in, mate. We’re already late as fuck.”

I recognize that voice. Rather, the accent. Australian. Husky. Sexy. It’s been a feature in many of my dreams before. If I didn’t learn to control myself over the years of being a Bishop, I would have peed myself right here on the sidewalk.

Garrick frigging Matthews is leaning down to peer out of the passenger side window that’s rolled down. His eyes land on me and widen a fraction. “No shit. That you, Little Bishop?”

Little Bishop. The first time he called me that I was fifteen and still struck stupid, except, I had a backstage pass around my neck. He remembers me? Holy shit!

Garrick Matthews remembers me.

Zayne turns to me with sudden recognition lighting his face. “Fuck me. Yeah, now I remember. Kyler Bishop’s little sister, right??

?

Before I can answer, Garrick does. “Not blood related. You need a ride somewhere, sweetheart?”

I try calming my racing heart over his pet name for me. Normally, it makes me squirm in discomfort, but considering I used to have a poster of him—of all of them—on my bedroom wall for years, it’s different. “Uh…” I look between the two and then at the time on my phone. I don’t have any more places to go and planned on waiting until Mia was free to see if she could pick me up because I don’t know the bus routes well enough yet.

But… “Didn’t you say you were late somewhere?” I don’t want to be a pain, and I also don’t want to make a fool out of myself if I get into their car. Plus, does Kyler really want people knowing where we live? Especially these people? I may not understand his dislike for them, for Garrick, but I want to respect his privacy like he does mine.

Zayne laughs and opens the back passenger-side door. “Might as well make it worth it. The guys will get over it.”

I assume they’re referring to the others in the band. Weighing my options, I decide to climb in so they’ll stop staring at me expectantly. Not to mention bystanders are probably wondering what’s going on. I’ve seen the model-like girls, some who are actual models, that normally appear in pictures with their arms around these men, and I don’t look like them. My legs are long and lean, but my body is lacking of any real curves besides the weight in my butt and thighs from the cheap junk I could afford to feed myself, and my face is absent of makeup except for the mascara and liner I’ve learned to apply with precision over the years. I think of the last girl I remember Zayne dating, some Victoria Secret model, and know for certain we’re polar opposites in every way.

Once we’re all in, Garrick pulls away and looks at me in the rearview. “Where to?”

Swallowing, I shoot off the address and watch them exchange a look. Too nervous to talk, I run my sweaty hands down my legs and glance out the small window at the semi-familiar surroundings. I could tell them I like their car, or their newest album, but I’m sure they get that a lot. Maybe I could even ask them how they’ve been, just to be nice. My tongue is too heavy in my mouth though. I mean, how many people can say they get car rides from people they idolized growing up? Not many.

Garrick breaks the silence, turning down the radio that’s playing some pop song I sort of recognize. “So, Little Bishop. What brings you back here? Last I heard, you moved away with that fine mother of yours.”

Fisting my hands, I take a deep breath and try ignoring the burn in my chest. It still hurts to talk about her, to think about her. Mia says it will for a while before the pain eases. She watched her husband experience the same loss. Though, Dylan was closer with his mother. More so than me, so I imagine our grieving periods will be different. “She passed away.” Voice cracking, I clear it. “It’s just me now, so I moved back for school.”

Not a total lie, but I’m not about to admit I moved back because I had nowhere else to go. That seems embarrassing given who I’m talking to. Even though I’ve watched the documentary on the beginning of Violet Wonders, our situations are different. Some of them came from nothing, from foster homes, while others happened to be in the right place at the right time before forming VW. We may share certain similarities, but it’s still different. They’re huge. Wealthy. Famous. Popular. And I’m…me.

Little Bishop.

“Shit,” Zayne says. “That sucks.”

That it does.

Garrick slows down when we hit a long line of backed up traffic. “So, you’re back with the Bishops then?”

I’m pretty sure they don’t remember my name, but I don’t tell them either. Would they remember it even if I did tell them? “Sort of.” Not wanting to go into details, I let it drop. “Um, thank you for the ride by the way.”

Garrick eyes me again. I can see his lips curve upward until that dimple I know well pops in his cheek. Girls go crazy over that dimple, me included. “I’m never upset about giving a pretty girl a ride home, sweetheart.”

I blush. He chuckles.

Zayne looks over his shoulder at me. “If you aren’t with the Bishops anymore, who are you here with? No offense, darlin’, but you don’t exactly look like you have the money to fork over the kind of home where your address is.”

The blush intensifies. “I, uh…” My eyes shift downward to the outfit I’m wearing. It isn’t the nicest, but it doesn’t scream poor to me. Especially because Mia leant me the top, and she definitely doesn’t wear Walmart brands like I tend to don daily.

Garrick wallops Zayne before giving me another look in the mirror. “What my idiotic friend is trying to say is that the neighborhood you live in has a reputation. You know, rich dicks who have more money than they know what to do with.”

Oh. I didn’t know that. When we found the house in the cute little neighborhood, something about it felt…safe. Welcoming. There wasn’t anybody outside when Alice showed us the space and she said the reputation is well perceived from other neighbors she’s worked with. Neighbors that I still haven’t met because Kyler and I stay in nine times out of ten.

“And, well, yeah. People have talked about the shit that happened at the Bishop home. Surprised more didn’t leak online, but I guess Harry and the others paid a large sum to make sure you and the MILF—er, your mum, stayed out of the media scrutiny. Trust me, sweetheart, that would have been brutal if they hadn’t.”

Swallowing, I stare at my hands and try figuring out what to say. When nothing passes my lips, one of them chuckles. Probably Garrick, but I don’t dare peek to find out.

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