Page 19 of A Duet of Darkness and Dreams

“Shit, that’s—I’m sorry.”

I shrug. “It was a long time ago. And while my dad doesn’t drink, he’s not exactly a peach either.”

She smiles sadly. “Guess we have quite a bit in common already.”

I can’t help but grin at that. “Will you be going to school with us?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Maybe I could drive you to school?” I blurt awkwardly. But I can’t help myself, I want to be near her.

She smiles a wide, toothy grin and my insides turn to liquid. “Pretty sure Sam can do that. You know, since I’ll be living with him.”

“Right.”Fuck, I’m an idiot.

“But, maybe you can show me around? Other than Sam, I don’t know anyone. And who better to make introductions than a rad drummer?”

I think my face might literally be on fire. “I don’t know about that . . . I’m not exactly Mister Popular.”

She gives me a long look—one that does nothing to ease my flaming cheeks. “I find that surprising.”

I clear my throat just as Sam bursts through the door with anarmful of Dr. Pepper bottles. “Okay, Em, so all we have is this—oh, Dave, I didn’t know you were here. I take it you met Emily, then?”

“Yeah.”

She takes a bottle from Sam, and as he turns away, she winks at me with her bright eyes and long lashes and I know right there, I’m in a whole new world of trouble.

CHAPTER 6

I Will Survive

ISABELLA

My palms are sweaty and my heart gallops as I hold the note in my hand with Becks’s handwriting. Why is making a simple phone call so nerve-racking?Come on, don’t be ridiculous.We’re friends, and she gave me her number expecting I’d call at some point.

But that little sabotaging voice in the back of my mind might as well be saying,Maybe she was just trying to be nice but doesn’t really like you.

No. Becks doesn’t seem like the type of person who would be phony like that. Also, she admitted it’s been hard for her to make friends.

“Okay, just call. No big deal,” I say, finally picking up the phone and punching the buttons with shaking fingers. The phone begins to ring, and I nervously chew on my cuticle. Wait, what if one of the guys answers? What ifheanswers? But before I can hang up and panic, the line connects.

“Hello?”

Goddammit . . .

“Hello?” Dave says again, drawing out the O likehe’s searching for the caller.

Come on, Izzy, say something. “Uh, hi.”

There’s a pause. “Who is this?”

“It’s uh—sorry, it’s Isabella?” Why am I asking him? “I’m looking for Becks.”

“Oh hi, it’s Dave.”

The deep timber of his voice already clued me into that. “Hey.”

“Becks isn’t here,” he says. “But I could pass along a message.”

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