Page 32 of Faking It With the Small-Town Bad Boy

wouldn’t hurt Ryan, even if I hate him with my guts right now. Ryan

wouldn’t hurt me, either. Know that.”

He looks aside, uninterested in carrying the conversation further.

“Listen, it’s nothing, okay? I didn’t come here to talk about my past

with Farrah. If anything, I want to talk about the future. About this

wedding.”

“What about it?”

“My band wants the gig. They think it’ll be a good deal to have under

our belts and could lead to more exposure, obviously. If we can prove

we can play a classy event, maybe we can crawl out of the bar scene

at last.”

“I thought punk rock was birthed in the bar scene. Why do you want

to change that?”

“It’s complicated. I don’t want to attend this stupid wedding at all,

but it looks like I might have to.”

Unsettled, he ruffles a hand through his brunette hair before

scratching the stray hairs on his neck that look more amber and

redder than his short hair that isn’t under a black hat today. It’s

actually a nice look for him, even with the little diamond stud that he

has pinched into his ear.

I don’t have an issue with guys who wear earrings, but I’m a little

jealous. My mother despised jewelry at all costs and wouldn’t even

wear her wedding band. She was petrified when I started working

with dad in the garage, afraid I’d wear a long necklace that would get

stuck in an engine belt, get ripped off my throat, and hurt me.

Then when Ainsley had begun showing interest in fashion, and the

costume jewelry started coming in droves, my mother about lost her

mind. She didn’t want us to dress up, to be overly feminine, because

Rally is a rough town. If we were ever too dainty or frilly, she would

be afraid we’d be taken as innocent and weak. We were raised to be

---