Page 80 of Of Heartbreak and Harmony
“C’mon, Cal,” Ezra pleads. “Come. Let’s go do sun salutations with some cute little goaties.”
“I’m down,” Rocky says, turning to me with a grin. “C’mon, Cal. Ignore Beck. He’ll be fine once he beats off.”
I groan, then push myself to standing.
“Fine, assholes. Let’s go to goat yoga.”
I’m drunk.
Well, kind of drunk. More like decently buzzed. But I’m also sporting a nice high from half an edible I got from Rocky, so my courage is up, and my inhibitions are down. Sober enough to know better, stoned enough not to give a fuck.
It’s been a long-ass day. We’ve listened to two other bands play, took a shag dancing for beginners’ class, and of course did goat yoga between eating food truck food and drinking all the drinks. The whole time, I’ve been stewing.
My head’s been on a swivel even when I knew it was stupid. Looking for Torren when the sun is up is pointless—he only ventures out under the cover of darkness—but it didn’t stop me from doing it. Now, though, with sunset fast approaching and my bravery reaching moronic levels of fearlessness, I tell the guys I’m going to pee and steal away to make a potentially bad decision.
I know the chances of Torren coming to find me tonight are nonexistent. I’m going to put myself in his path instead. It’s dumb. I know this, but I do it anyway. If I don’t, I’ll always wonderwhat if, and my dad says it’s better not to live with regrets. Or he used to, anyway.
Halfway to the bathrooms, I take out my phone and send a group text to the guys that I’m going to hang out with my friend from high school. Rock, Ezra, and Pike reply. Becket doesn’t. I put my phone back in my pocket, then change direction, heading for The Hometown Heartless tour bus. I don’t know what I’ll do when I get there—maybe post up and hope I catch Torren before he leaves for the night—but I don’t dwell on it. I’m going to be spontaneous. I’m going to be a little reckless. I can do this.
I think.
Despite having dropped out of high school to drive up and down the West Coast with my band, reckless and spontaneous are not words I would use to describe myself. In fact, I went back and forth over that decision for weeks before finally making the jump.
College wasn’t in my future. My grades weren’t high enough for scholarships, and the aid I’d be awarded wasn’t going to be enough to pay for much of anything. And even then, the idea of higher education made me want to pluck my eyes out and stomp on them. I’d never liked school. I’d always dreamed of becoming a classical concert pianist, but by eighteen, I realized the closest I’d probably ever get was playing the keyboard in the band.
When I finally decided to leave with Becket, Rocky, Pike, and Ezra, I did it in the middle of the day while my mom was at work because I was afraid to face her. I was a coward, and I didn’t want to see the disappointment on her face. I told myself it was a calculated risk, and if I’m honest, it’s one that has yet to pay off.
We’re playing ArtFusion, though. Our band has a steadily growing community of fans. Decent enough that we’re starting to be recognized in some circles. The fact that my band is on the ArtFusion line-up poster is proof that taking risks can be a good thing. I repeat this over and over in my head as I walk to the tour bus, and when I get there, I creep as close to it as I can before I’m stopped by a security guard.
“You can’t come back here,” he says, his voice low and intimidating.
“Oh. Um. Beau, right? I’m Callie, remember? From last night?”
He doesn’t smile. No recognition at all on his face.
“You can go back behind the barricade with the rest of the fans, or I’ll have you escorted there.”
I glance toward where he’s gesturing. A low, black chain-link fence separates the bus lot from the park, and there are people standing alongside it. I didn’t notice it because I came from the opposite direction.
“Were they there yesterday?” I ask. He doesn’t answer.
I nod, then open my mouth to apologize when the group of fans behind the fence start screaming. Two seconds later, a tan arm is thrown around my shoulder, and I look up to find the lead guitarist of The Hometown Heartless towering over me. My eyes widen and my jaw drops.
With dirty-blond hair brushing just above his shoulders and dark two-day-old scruff covering his jaw, Jonah Hendrix looks like grunge rock incarnate. His faded gray T-shirt is sporting tiny tears at the collar and sleeve, and it’s frayed on all the hemlines. It’s distressed in the kind of way that didn’t cost him hundreds of dollars, but is disheveled without being outright sloppy. His bright blue eyes are red-rimmed, and there’s a cigarette hanging from his lips. When he speaks, I watch the cigarette bob along with the movement of his mouth.
“She’s with me.”
I squeak but I don’t protest. When Beau looks at me, he’s not amused. Jonah sighs, already seeming bored with this interaction.
“You’re with me, right, sweets?”
I volley my attention between Jonah and Beau before giving a small shrug, and then the security guard just...steps to the side. Jonah says nothing else as he steers me toward the bus. The fans on the other side of the fence don’t stop screaming or shouting Jonah’s name until he’s pulling open the door to the bus and leading me inside.
The weed smell is stronger than it was last night, and the music is louder. I’m half expecting some sort of party when I step foot into the main living area, but instead, I only see Torren. The sight of him makes my mouth dry. He’s sprawled on the couch in a pair of black boxer briefs, beautiful body on full display, and his hair is wet like he’s just gotten out of the shower.
I stop in my tracks and stare.
My eyes rove over him—all colorfully tattooed skin and toned muscles—as I work to keep my breathing even. His legs look longer now that they’re bare and stretched out in front of him, the pirate ship inked onto his right thigh seeming small on his six-foot-two frame. I make it a point to avoid the expanse of his body covered by the black fabric of his underwear, skipping entirely over the area between upper thigh and pelvis. If I look, I’ll pass out. As it is, the scene before me makes my heart race in a way that’s bordering painful, but Torren doesn’t look away from his phone until Jonah speaks.
