Page 76 of Even Beneath the Stars

"Like a freaking rock star."

I shake my head as I roll my eyes. "We got into a groove. Cam and I started trading licks between verses."

Maggie's smile grows wider. "So, you killed it."

No idea why this girl has so much faith in my musical abilities. She barely heard me that day up in the Observatory.

"I thought I'd totallybombed," I counter. "When we finished, there was this dead silence." I rub the back of my neck, remembering that sinking feeling. "I'm standing there thinking 'shit, I just made a complete ass of myself.' Like, who walks into a jam session and starts belting out vocals without even feeling things out?"

Maggie snorts again. "Badass people, that's who."

"I was ready to pack up my guitar and bolt."

"But?"

"But then Tyler lets out this wild screech and starts banging his drums. Liam's jumping around like he's at a metal concert. And Cam…" I shake my head, still amazed. "Cam just gives me this nod and goes 'Dude, your voice is insane.'"

Maggie's breath catches and she covers her mouth with her hand, like some prim southern belle. "Ohmygod, Xave…"

And when did she start calling me by my nickname?

"So, what about after that?" she asks on an exhale, still with her hand hovering over her mouth in a way that makes me want to grin.

Instead, I answer, "After that, Cam picks up his guitar and starts this riff fromSpoonmanand then we're all jamming to Soundgarden."

The memory of that moment hits me—the pure rush of playing with guys who actually get it, who feel the music the same way I do. No pressure, no expectations. Just… music.

"We ended up playing for almost eight hours straight," I tell her. "Totally lost track of time and realized we hadn't stopped to eat."

"So, basically, you were awesome." Maggie grins, finally lowering her hand.

"Wewere awesome," I correct, remembering how well we all seemed to gel. Not just the way we played together and riffed so naturally off each other, but our music tastes. Even the stuff not everyone had heard of before, we all still 'got it'. Liked it—were on board to try and see if it worked when we hashed it out together on our instruments. Not everything sounded good or was stuff we agreed to come back to and re-work later, but it was all fun. A fucking rush.

I think back to Cam's parting words as he leaned into the lowered window of my car just before I pulled out of his driveway. "We are gonna be trashing hotel rooms in no time, man."

Not sure about the hotel rooms, but we are definitely going to be jamming again soon. Tuesday evening, in fact. And again, later in the week, if we can fit in more time before next weekend.

"Did you play any of your original stuff?" Maggie asks.

"Nah." I shrug. "Too soon."

"But maybe another time?"

"Maybe."

Not sure I'm there yet. But then, I didn't think I was ready to jam with a group of guys I didn't know and look how that turned out. Not too fucking bad.

"Cool," she says, and then she's quiet.

We're both quiet.

Her eyes dip, and I watch her, curled up in the corner of the U-shaped couch like she owns it. Her pink hair's pulled up in this messy knot thing, with strands escaping around her face. And it hits me again how crazy it is that she was genuinely surprised to hear that my guy friends think she's hot. Christ, even wearing butt-ugly cowboy-print pajamas, she's fucking gorgeous. And that's saying something, because these things are next level hideous—dull beige flannel with ridiculous vintage cartoon cowboys all over them, throwing lassos and yelling "Yeehaw!" and "Ride 'em, cowboy!" in little speech bubbles. Like, where the hell would you even buy pajamas like that?

She's fiddling with one of her miniature creations. A hot dog stand, battered and graffitied. She glances down at it, then back at me, tilting her head a little when she notices me staring. Her nose wrinkles, drawing my eyes to those pale freckles that shehasto know are sexy as hell. "What?" she asks, her hazel eyes catching the light.

I nudge her knee with my foot. "Thank you." My lips lift into a half-grin. "Again."

She nods once; doesn't have to ask what I'm talking about. She knows. Because, just like those guys today, she gets it. Getsme,apparently, in a way I'm not sure anyone else ever really has.

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