Page 25 of Never Been Shipped

“Ah,” he said. “This’ll definitely make you laugh. I answered a Craigslist ad to join a band that plays the Offspring’s greatest hits all around Central Florida. Want to know what it’s called? Guess.”

Micah could already feel the smile tugging on her lips, but she shook her head. She had nothing.

John raised his eyebrows, like he knew what a bomb he was about to drop. “The Knock-Offspring.”

That did surprise a laugh out of her. “Oh my god,” she said. “No way.”

“Way,” he said. “Although we haven’t been able to practice much lately. Our drummer Eric’s back went out.”

“The KidsAren’tAlright,” she quipped, and John started playing the distinctive riff that opened that song.

“Eric’s cool,” he said once he’d stopped. “Pretty Fly—for a White Guy.”

“I guess he’s got to Come Out and Play,” Micah said. “Once his back is feeling better.”

John grinned at her. “In the meantime, he’s Gone Away.”

Micah searched her brain for more songs by The Offspring. She could remember “Why Don’t You Get a Job?” but couldn’t quite think about how to slot it into this conversational back-and-forth. John watched her face until he started playing another song she vaguely recognized as by that band but couldn’t place.

“You’re Not the One to play this game with me,” he said. “I promise you I can go longer.”

She arched her eyebrow at him. “You think you can outlast me?”

She wasn’t talking about some nineties band anymore. And from the way he missed a note in the tight palm-muted riff he’d been playing, she thought he knew it. Whether he had any memory of what had happened between them this morning, he was surely aware of what had been between them the night before. All that tension couldn’t have been only in her head, the feeling of him sliding under the sheets next to her, the way he’d seemed to hold his body unnaturally still while pretending to already be asleep. She knew he hadn’t fallen asleep that fast.

Micah was so close to doing something stupid, like just asking him about it, when the door to the theater opened again and Ryder, Frankie, and Steve entered together, their hands full of drinks. Ryder and Steve each had beers, which wasinterestingto Micah, given that it was Ryder who’d been so insistent on their professionalism at rehearsal just the other day, and Frankie had a couple bottled waters, which they handed out to John and Micah once they reached the stage.

“Did y’all bring a reusable water bottle?” they asked. “I don’t like putting all this plastic out into the earth.”

Micah held up the water bottle she’d brought with her to rehearsal.

John glanced between hers and Frankie’s. “I’ll buy one,” he said.

“Good man,” Frankie said, giving him a pat on the head.

Micah was jealous of that simple, casual touch. She’d almost touched him that morning, smoothed out his hair, put a hand to his cheek. But it had been dark and she’d been trying to be quiet, and she was sure she would’ve ended up poking him in the eye instead.

“Now, are we ready to do this, or what?” Ryder asked once he’d plugged his guitar back in.

Micah glanced at John, bringing her microphone up to her mouth. “Chicken tender, barbecue, all my dreams fulfilled…”

He grinned at her, and that was when she knew that the rest of rehearsal was going to go just fine.

“What?” Ryder said. “Chicken what?”

“Nothing,” Micah said. “I’m ready.”

Chapter

Thirteen

John didn’t evenknow how he got through that rehearsal.

At first, it had just beenbad. They were all out of sync, with Frankie playing behind the beat just a bit and Ryder’s and John’s guitars sounding like they were talking over each other instead of being in conversation. And then Micah was clearly nervous and in her head about it, and the more she fucked up, the more nervous and in her head she got.

He’d barely been able to look at her when he’d arrived. He’d been disappointed when he woke up alone, only the slight imprint on the pillow next to him giving away that Micah had been there at all. But he’d been relieved, too. Because he’d had ahellof a dream about her, and had woken up so hard it was painful. Thanks to the total darkness of his room, he’d also overslept, which meant he hadn’t had time to do anything about it before he had to run to rehearsal.

Which was another reason it had been difficult to get through the last couple of hours—he just couldn’t stop thinking aboutMicah in ways he really shouldn’t be thinking about her. Her hair was back in its usual ponytail, but he couldn’t help but remember the way it had been last night, messy and undone from rolling around in bed. She was dressed casually today, in a black T-shirt with the wordsThe Same Songs Over And Overprinted in white block letters, and jeans that perfectly formed to her ass when she bent over to move the mic cord out of the way. And he found himself thinking about that expanse of bare back when she’d sat up in bed the night before, how much he wanted to put that entire peony tattooed on her shoulder in his mouth.

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