Page 6 of Feuds and Interludes
“Whatever.” I hated this shit. The compliments, the kissing up, the fake humility. My pops meant it, but I hated the one-up bullshit.
The house lights flickered and it was time to take our seats. Pops and Vera Jean shared one last smile and turned to go—but this interlude wasn’t over.
“He’s right, you know.”
I felt Boone at my back, and it raised my hackles. I turned to face him and was surprised at his proximity, but not enough to step back.
“He’s what?”
Boone did that big blue-eyed demure thing he does that’s sold Stellar a million albums. It didn’t work on me. No. His “thing” didn’t work on me. At all.
“Your grandfather’s right. Youaresmarter, more handsome, more talented.”
Fire shot straight down my spine. Was I pissed? Furious? Or something else?
“The fuck you talking about, College Boy? You don’t know anything.”
His goddamned blue eyes flared, and he flinched at my words. I think? Or did I imagine it?
“Right,” he said with a smirk. “I don’t know anything. Keep telling yourself that.”
I saw red and acted before I could even consider where I was or who was around. I pushed him. Not hard, but still. He stumbled back with a laugh, and crashed into fucking Roger Taylor from Queen, who patted him on the shoulder and moved on to his seat. And then he was right back in my face. Stilllaughing. Was he laughing at me? Was he covering up his embarrassment? Or did he really want a piece of me?
“Boys,” Pops snapped. “This is not the time or the place.”
Vera Jean caught Boone’s eye and somehow managed to smile at himandgive him a “how dare you” look at the same time. The woman had a gift.
My heart was still pounding in my ears as Pops led me to our table. Boone stared me down the whole way to his seat, and even as he lowered himself into the chair, he kept glaring his challenge my way. What was his game? What the hell was he trying to prove? Why the hell did he have to say anything? Why thehelldid I always let him get a rise out of me?
“Why do you let him get a rise out of you?” Pops asked close to my ear. The bastard and I were still staring at each other, and I knew for certain if you took my blood pressure right then it would’ve been through the roof. I downed my water and reached for the pitcher to pour another one.
“He’s the one…he just…he’s always…grrrr.” I felt my nostrils flare as I looked at him across the aisle, smiling and laughing with Vera Jean.
Prick.
Someone was speaking over the PA but my heart still thundered in my ears, quieter now but still. Then I heard the openingchug-a-chug-a-chug-aof “Edge of Midnight,” and I realized the show had begun. The ever-magical Stevie Nicks had taken the stage, and all eyes were on her.
Except Boone’s.
And mine.
Why the hell was he still staring at me? Why did he alwaysdothis?
Why did staring back make my heart beat faster?
I told myself over and over to stop giving him the power to set me off, but there was just something about him that mademe…weak. Which was probably why I reacted. Definitely why I reacted. But what the weakness was about, I hadn’t figured out.Shit like this had happened every time we ran into each other over the past few years.
Well, someday we were going to have it out, because I was sick of him acting like he was better than me when we both put our fucking pants on one leg at a time.
Why the hell am I thinking about his pants?
Four
Boone
God, he’s hot when he’s mad.
I half listened to Stevie Nicks and The Cure perform because I couldn’t stop thinking about the drama that had just played out.
