Nova and Quinton: No Regrets
Page 18

“What the hell was that?” she asks, unbuttoning her black plaid coat.
I shrug, counting the number of nail polishes she has on her vanity, not really caring at the moment that I’m reverting back to my bad habits. I’m stressed out and I need relief. Just a minute or two and then I’ll stop. “I have no idea what happened. One minute I was making sure everything was okay with him and the next he’s pulling me down onto his lap.”
She tosses her coat onto her bed, frowning. “I knew this was going to happen.”
I stop pacing and look at her. “How?”
“Because I can see it in his eyes every time he looks at you,” she says, unlacing her boot as she sits down on her bed. “He likes you. And I mean like-likes you.”
I want to argue with her, but only because I don’t want to accept the truth. “I know… he had a thing for me once a year or so ago.”
“I think he’s never gotten over it,” she says, kicking off her boot. “But the question is: do you think of him that way?”
I immediately shake my head. “No, Tristan’s just a friend.”
“Are you sure?” There’s accusation in her tone. “Because you don’t really crush on guys and I’m starting to wonder if maybe you just don’t realize when you have feelings for someone.”
“I know when I have feelings.” I sigh and sit down on the bed beside her. “I’ve had them before once… twice.”
She wiggles her foot out of her other boot. “With Landon. And.…?” She waits for me to say it, even though she knows.
“You know it’s Quinton,” I say, pulling the elastic out of my hair and combing my fingers through it.
“How would I when you never say it?”
She’s right. Way too right. I never say much aloud unless it’s to my camera.
“It’s hard to say it sometimes,” I disclose, side-braiding my hair and securing it with an elastic. “When I don’t know how he feels or if I’ll ever see him again.”
She takes a shimmering, knee-length black dress off a hanger. “I’m sure you will.”
I shake my head as she steps deeper into the closet to change. “I’m not so sure. Every time I talk to him… it seems like he thinks that it might be too hard to see me again… he keeps saying one day down the road but I don’t know…” I rest back on my elbows and sigh.
She steps out of the closet, wearing a tight sheer black dress with sparkling heels. “You could always just ask him.” She reaches for the silver jewelry box on her vanity.
“I don’t want to push him,” I say, sitting up. “He always gets uncomfortable whenever I say something about visiting him.”
“You don’t need to be pushy when you ask.” She takes out a black diamond earring and clips it on her ear. “Just make it a question and be okay with whatever answer he gives you.” She puts the other earring in and then does a little twirl with her hands out to her sides. “How do I look?”
“Super fancy.” I stand up. “Where are you going?”
“Out.” She winks at me as she collects her purse.
I hurry and cut her off as she strides toward the door. “No way.” I span my hands out to the sides, trying to block her path. “Enough with the secrecy. Fess up.”
She rolls her eyes at me as she reaches for her coat on the bedpost. “I’m just going out with some friends.” She drapes the coat over her arm. “Jesus, Nova. You need to chill out.” She pushes past me, but halts before the door. “Look, I’m your best friend so I can say this. Do yourself a favor and let Tristan know where you stand, wherever that may be.” She grabs the doorknob and pulls the door open. “And let Quinton know where you stand. It’ll be good for you, I think.”
I want to be angry with her for telling me to do things I don’t want to, but I can’t. “Thank you, Lea,” I say, following her out the door. “But I still think you’re lying to me about where you’re going tonight.”
“Think what you want.” She grins in response. “Totally off the subject, but can I borrow your car, in just a bit, for a couple of hours?”
I think about telling her no unless she’ll fess up to where she’s really going, but I’m not that big a bitch. “Sure, but you’ll have to drop me off at practice and then pick me up afterward.”
She frowns, because she hates taking me to practice. She actually probably would have been in my band if she hadn’t broken the heart of Jaxon, the lead singer. “Fine, but I’m staying in the car.”
“That sounds good to me,” I tell her. “But then again, it’s totally okay for you to come in and say hi. In fact, I know Jaxon would love it.”
“Nova, I love you to death, but you need to get over the idea of Jaxon and me ever getting together again.”
“I am over the idea, but at the same time, if you guys get back together I wouldn’t mind.”
“We won’t get back together. Ever,” she says, frustrated. “Seriously, Nova. You need to let go of the past… this is why I don’t tell you stuff.” Then she hurries down the hallway and leaves me standing there with her words replaying in my mind.
Getting stuck in the past is an issue I’ve struggled with for quite a while. I have a hard time letting go. I thought I was getting better, though, but she pretty much just threw in my face that I’m not.
I try to decide whether I should go out and tell Tristan there will be no more forehead kisses or lap-sitting. But after lurking in the hallway for a moment, I decide to go back into my room and get ready for band practice, even though it’s not for a few hours, because I’m a big chicken who’s not ready for confrontation at the moment.
* * *
Thankfully, band practice gives me time away from my thoughts. After an hour of playing, I feel good. And the amazing feeling only increases after we’re done playing. I’m bouncing up and down like a little kid strung out on candy as I’m informed that my band got a gig. And not just any gig, but one where we get to open for Peaceful Injustice, one of my favorite indie rock bands of all time, next weekend on New Year’s eve. Jaxon announces this to us in the garage of his house, the place where we practice because we’re all broke students and can’t afford to rent a studio space.
Jaxon is a pretty good-looking guy, if you like that whole mysterious rock-star look. He’s tall and kind of lanky with dark brown hair that hangs in his eyes, but in an intentional kind of way. He’s dressed head to toe in black today, with a studded belt, boots, and leather bands on his arms.
“So what do you think?” Jaxon asks me after he’s made the epic announcement.
I tuck my drumsticks into the back pocket of my jeans as I search the garage for where I left my jacket. “I think it rocks. But what I’m wondering is how the hell you managed to get them to let us open for them.”
“He’s got connections,” Spalding calls out as he unplugs his guitar from the amp. He’s got longer hair, too, like Jaxon, only his is jet black. He has a pierced eyebrow and colorful artwork is tattooed all over his arms to create full sleeves. He’s got gauges in his ears and he’s also wearing all black, but that’s normal for him.
Nikko snorts a laugh as he puts his guitar away. He’s got short hair that sort of spikes up at the top and his eyes are crazy intense because if you stare at them long enough they almost look gold. His taste in clothes is a little bit more eccentric. Right now he’s wearing this bright-red fitted shirt and these baggy black pants with zippers and buckles all over the front. His black boots have gray skeletons on them and his fingernails are black. He’s the baby of the group, only eighteen; he’s also Jaxon’s cousin.
“The only reason we got the gig is because Jaxon hung out with Stella.” Nikko laughs under his breath and then sticks out his tongue, making an obscene gesture with his fingers, and Spalding rolls his eyes.
“Children.” Spalding shakes his head and I laugh. Spalding’s twenty-two, but he acts like he’s thirty, which from the tidbits of information I picked up from Jaxon is because he became the legal guardian of his sister when he was eighteen. I’m not sure why, though, and I don’t have the lady balls to ask because, more than likely, there’s a tragic story behind it.
“Shut the f**k up,” Nikko says hotly as he picks up a bottle of water from the top of one of the speakers. “You’re only four years older than me, dumbass.” He takes a swig of the water and then sets it back down.
They start arguing and I turn to Jaxon as I pick up my jacket up off the floor in the corner of the garage. “So did you get the gig because of Stella?” I dare ask. Stella is the owner of Black & Red Ink, the place where we’ll be playing, and a very popular club in the potato state.
He shakes his head, getting a little bit uneasy as he pretends to search for something behind the freezer. “No… well, yeah, I mean she’s how I got the gig, but I didn’t like sleep with her or anything.” He turns in a circle as he looks around at the floor. “Have you seen my cell phone?”
“Yeah… it’s in your hand.” I hate the awkwardness between us, but until Lea and he can come to terms with their breakup, I think it’ll always be there, especially since I have a hunch she was out on a date earlier today.
He glances down at the phone in his hand and then shakes his head. “Sorry, I guess I’m tired or something.”
I offer him a smile. “Yeah, it happens sometimes.” I slip my arms through the sleeves of my jacket and then take the drumsticks from my pocket. “So what time are we practicing tomorrow?”
“About six,” he says, checking his cell phone screen. “I know we usually do it earlier, but I have to go out with the family for an early Christmas dinner.”
“Early Christmas dinner?” I ask as I zip up my jacket. “But Christmas is in three days, so why don’t they just wait two extra days?”
“Yeah. I’m going to be gone for Christmas and my parents think they need to have an early one for me,” he says. “I’m flying out to New York with Spalding to hang with his family for the holidays.”
“Oh. Well, I’m glad my parents don’t want to have a makeup dinner for me,” I say, ignoring the bang as Nikko bumps into one of the cymbals. “I mean, I love going home and everything, but I can’t go anywhere right now. Not when I just picked up some extra hours at work. Plus the band and our stellarly awesome gig we just got on New Year’s eve.” There’s also the fact that Tristan won’t go home and I don’t want to leave him here for almost a month. My mom’s planning on coming out after New Year’s so everything should work out.
The corners of his lips quirk. “I’m glad to see where we are on your list of importance.”
“Hey, you guys are totally important,” I say, heading for the door. “However, my job pays the bills and my education will hopefully be able to pay the bills in the future.”
“What? You’re not planning on becoming a rock star?” he jokes as he follows me, weaving around my pink drum set, the one Landon gave to me on my birthday years ago. It’s sad he never got to see me perform, just practice. He didn’t get to see a lot of things, which makes me even sadder. But it’s an obstacle that I’ve overcome and I can find solace in playing now.
I pause, contemplating what he said. “I’m honestly not sure what I’ll do… what about you?”
“I’m not sure either,” he says. “I mean, I’m majoring in general education so I have no idea what the hell I’m going to do with that or if I want to do anything with it at all.” He hurries to my side and opens the door to the wash-room for. “Honestly, if I could make a living singing, I would, but there’s a slim chance that’ll ever happen.”
“Maybe you’ll be one of the lucky ones.” I step into the room and breathe in the warm air and faint scent of cookies flowing from the kitchen.
“Maybe,” he says, but doesn’t seem too optimistic. And I don’t blame him. There is very little chance that he’ll be able to actually become a famous rock star. Life doesn’t work that way. You can try and try but it doesn’t mean you’ll get what you want. You just have to make do with what you have.
He continues to walk me to the front door and I’m hoping he’ll say good-bye to me there, since Lea’s outside. But he doesn’t and ends up walking out with me to the driveway, where Lea is waiting in my car.
She gets out to let me drive and tenses as her eyes meet Jaxon’s and Jaxon freezes in the middle of the frosted lawn. No one speaks and I can hear Christmas carolers down the street singing a very cheerful “Joy to the World.”
“Hey,” she says, cracking the tension like the ice on the ground. She glances around at the yard, the front door, the garage, pretty much everywhere but at him.
“You cut your hair,” he says, his brows knitting as he takes in the sight of her as she steps around to the front of the car. “It looks good.”
Lea touches a strand of her hair, finally looking at him. I remember that when I first met them, over a year ago, there was a sparkle in her eye every time she looked at him, but it’s not there anymore and that makes me sad. What makes me even sadder is that I wonder if that’s how Landon and I would have gotten if he were still alive. Would we have gotten to this point? I believed at the time that we’d always be together, but it’s hard to say now, especially when my feelings for Quinton are so strong.