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“Ew!” I say with a laugh.
Hayden and Gracie laugh too. “The way you just said that makes it sound like they’re jerking off in the shower together,” Hayden says in the middle of her laughter.
“Ooh, I watched some male/male porn a few weeks ago,” Gracie says, fanning herself. “It was hot.”
“Whaaaat?” I am so sheltered, I swear.
“Yes,” Gracie says, nodding and grinning. “Super hot.”
Hayden giggles. My mind wanders.
Whoa.
“What time is your last class tomorrow?” Hayden asks.
“Two o’clock,” I answer.
“Perfect. Come to our place first, say around three? We’ll have fun picking out an outfit and doing your hair, and then we’ll head over to Tony’s and set up for the party,” Hayden says with a firm nod.
“Okay.” I nod, excitement fizzing in my veins despite the fact that we’re a full twenty-four hours away from me arriving at their apartment.
It’s fun to think about though. Of getting ready. Of actually making real changes when it comes to myself. I’m tired of being sweet, dependable Ellie. I want to be something different.
I want to be more.
Seven
Jackson
“Are you really not even going to consider taking the phone call?”
I pull the phone away from my ear with a grimace. The booming sound of my dad’s voice is sometimes a trigger. Reminds me of when I was younger and I did something stupid, like break that expensive vase in the living room, or wrecked his car when I wasn’t even sixteen yet.
Yeah, that last one is true, and I paid for it dearly. But that all happened before we moved to California. Half the reason we came here, I think, was for me. Dad wanted me in a new environment. He doesn’t realize, to this day, I’m still up to no good. I just got smarter and know how to hide it.
“I don’t want to sign a record deal right now,” I tell him for what feels like the thousandth time.
“And why the hell not?” he retorts. Jeffrey Rivers is a force to be reckoned with. Most people cower when he talks normally. When he barks like the ferocious dog he can be? Forget it. They all fall at his feet—or run away screaming.
Except for me. I’m used to him. The yelling. The bark is worse than his bite. Plus, I’m his only son, his only child. He has expectations for me, and he’s fully embraced the rock star thing, which is surprising.
While I’m the one over here fighting it.
“I’m in school,” I remind him. “I want to get my degree.”
“Why? When you have the chance to make it big? Look, I’m not one to discourage my child from going to college. I went. And I used my degree to get myself where I’m at today. It works. College is not a waste of time.”
He pauses and I wait for the giant but following this statement.
“But—” There it is. “You are on top of your game right now. There are multiple labels clamoring for you. Throwing money at you. You could become a household name in a matter of months, Jackson. Why wouldn’t you jump on that?”
Because I’m terrified of failure? Of the fame? Of the attention and expectations and agony that comes with it? Being a household name is great, but it was never a goal. Not originally. I just liked playing my guitar and singing songs. I enjoy writing songs. The more I performed, the better I got. The more attention I got.
This has been a wild ride, but right now, I need a break.
“You take the call,” I tell my father. He grunts in response, so much frustration in that one noise. “Tell me their offer. I’ll let you know whether I want it or not.”
I won’t. I can already guarantee it.
