Page 12 of Wylder and the Almost Rockstar
Yet it had, and now he was gone, and she was left listening to him on the radio, the only person outside his family who knew it was him and not his brother.
Wylder shook her head and yawned again. Creeping down the quiet street to her brother’s house, she was anxious to get some sleep. She’d explain everything to Becks in the morning. She cut the headlights as she pulled down the drive to the modest house where Becks and Nicky lived.
Grabbing her bag from the passenger seat, Wylder headed to the front door.
“Crap.” Her shoulders fell when she realized she didn’t have her keys. They were sitting on her desk back in her dorm room, and there was no way she was waking Beckett to let her in.
Heaving a sigh, she marched around to the side of the house where she launched her bag over the garden wall. She’d done this several times before, sneaking back in after a date with Sebastian. Wylder scrambled up the brick wall, perching on top for a moment before she dropped to the ground on the other side, landing on her backside with a groan. Her gaze lifted to the gate that stood partially open, and she groaned again. She’d assumed it would have been locked and hadn’t even tried. That would have been a less painful entry.
“I am way too tired and out of shape for all this cloak and dagger stuff.” She stood up and dusted her jeans off, hoping Becks was still in the habit of working on the patio in the evenings. He was forever forgetting to lock the sliding glass door, and she was hoping she wouldn’t have to pick any more locks tonight. There was only so much breaking and entering a girl could do in one night without ending up behind bars.
Searching for her bag among the shadows, she glanced toward the neighbor’s house, hoping Mrs. Snooty-Van-Snooten wasn’t especially observant this time of night. The nosy neighbor had gotten Wylder into trouble with her brother on more than one occasion with her spying and tattling.
“Yes!” Wylder whisper-shouted when the patio door slid aside with ease. “Thank you, Beckett, for being so reliably oblivious.” She tiptoed into the house, sliding the door closed behind her.
“I’m starving.” Wylder groaned, heading for the fridge and hopefully some leftover cold pizza. “Perfect.” She grabbed two slices and headed for the guest room. She had a room upstairs but didn’t want to risk waking her brother on the creaky stairs.
She made her way across the darkened living room by feel, hoping the boys hadn’t decided to move the furniture around since she was here last.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something move. The silhouette of a guitar sailed through the air toward her head.
Wylder screamed, dropping her pizza as something grabbed her. She fell to the floor, as the thing with the guitar tackled her, and her face smooshed into her cold pizza.
She screamed again, struggling with the guitar strap and what felt like a three-hundred-pound, caterwauling potato on her back.
“What is going on down here?” Nicky interrupted the screaming, flicking on the lights in the foyer.
“I got him, babe, call the cops.”
Wylder struggled in a chokehold. “Becks.” She gasped. “Can’t breathe.”
“He even knows my name.” Becks’ grip tightened. “Probably a stalker.”
“First of all,he’sa she.” Nicky shook his head.
“A little help here, Nicky.” Wylder elbowed her brother.
“Second of all,she’syour sister, and she’s turning blue.” Nicky marched across the room and helped Wylder out of the tangle of guitar and Becks.
“Sister?” Becks scrambled to his feet. “Wylds? What are you doing here? What’s that on your face. And where is your hair?”
“You’ve seen me since I cut my dreads off, you big dufus.”
“Oh, right.”Right?He scowled at her. “You don’t look like you.”
"Ugh.” Wylder peeled a layer of cold cheese and pizza sauce off her face. “Gross.”
“You got pizza on my carpet.” Nicky scowled, folding his arms across his chest.
“There’s really no intruder?” Beckett glanced around the living room.
“No, it’s just me.” Wylder turned toward her brother and regretted it instantly. “Ew, gross, my eyes!” She held her hands up in front of her. “What are you wearing?”
“What? I was asleep when I heard someone breaking into my house.” Becks threw up his hands. “Didn’t stop to put pants on.”
“I did not need to know my brother wears tighty whities. I’m so embarrassed for you.” She turned her gaze on Nicky, dressed more respectably in boxer briefs and a t-shirt.
“It’s my house, I wear what I want, You’re just lucky I wasn’t naked.”
