Accidental Rock Star (6 page)

Aria.

Aria hadn’t made her
move. He’d worked his ass off on the drums, which kicked ass.
Backbone of the freaking band. She also had him blowing into a
saxophone. Which he sucked at, but appreciated the irony. He’d
spent an hour every day at school playing and watching Aria. And
hours at night, practicing so he’d impress her.

The more Baylee yelled
through the wall, “You suck, Tyler,” the louder he played. Baylee
had tried to retaliate with some fluting, but it didn’t have the
same punch, and she got sick of hearing the same song over and over
again long before he did. He always heard something different and
when he’d make his notes match what she was playing, turning it
into a jam session, she’d laugh. Aunt Joellen didn’t play any
instrument, and she thought they were brilliant.

He was more relaxed
than he’d been in months. He had new calluses, had nailed the
school fight song, and was starting to play the crap out of
long-dead composers, but he hadn’t played Aria.

A full week. No one had
recognized him. That shouldn’t have happened. Not that he’d been
ignored. Girls turned their heads when he walked by, of course, but
the marching-band aura clung to him. Chicks made their moves on the
down low. He’d gotten a ‘behind the bleachers’ offer from two
cheerleaders and four drill-team dancers. The thought made him
laugh. If these chicks only knew who they wanted to make their
dirty little secret. Damn. He’d take ’em up on it if he wasn’t so
flipping into Aria.

He needed advice. But
he really wasn’t supposed to call home. He’d let jet lag make that
decision on day one. Security was there for a reason. Crazed
stalker Gina couldn’t find him if he wasn’t living his own
life.

Fuck that. His movie
star bros all had girls. Hot ones. They’d straighten out his shit.
He was calling his bros.

Tyler shoved another
pillow behind his back and reached for his laptop, Skyping in Max,
Garrett, and Caz. Once they gave him the right advice, he’d be
reaching across the bed to grab Aria, not a laptop.

Three frames popped up
as his friends came online. “Gotta keep it short, guys. Security
will lose their shit over me calling home.” They wanted him back in
L.A. in lockdown at a private recording studio, recording as much
as he could before his eighteenth birthday rolled around and his
contract had to be renegotiated.

Caz rolled his eyes and
his crisp English accent came through the speaker. “You can be
pretty sure we’re not obsessed with you.”

“I don’t know, man.”
Garrett’s Scottish voice was almost incomprehensible as he rambled
about obsession being an understandable consequence of their
stardom. Garrett’s speech was much easier to get in person. How the
dude got acting gigs in America, Tyler didn’t know.

Max huffed out a
breath. “He said keep it short, Garr.”

Garrett nodded.

Max raised a dark
eyebrow from his frame, indicating Tyler should spill it.

Tyler explained to them
about Aria. He told them how hot she was, that she played half the
instruments in the band, and that he wanted her. He didn’t tell
them how this jabbed at his confidence, both her non-moves and the
‘reining in’ of his own extrovert personality.

“So there it is.” He
shoved a handful of buttery popcorn in his mouth. The motion made
him smile. Hah. Eating popcorn and watching movie stars onscreen.
They should drink a beer like the concert crowd and wave neon shit
in the air while watching him. He spoke with his mouth full. “Aria
hasn’t made a single move. What the fuck?”

Caz stared straight at
the camera. He mimicked Tyler with a perfect imitation of his
Californian accent. “Dude.”

Garrett’s light-green
eyes laughed, but he mocked using his own Scottish accent. “Weak.
Man up. Make your own move.”

Those were probably the
shortest sentences Garrett had ever said.

Max stared at him.
“You’re such a pussy.” Probably the
longest
sentence he’d
ever said.

Tyler may not have been
going about this the right way.

Caz shook his head.
“I’ve changed my mind. Sax should lay off the birds altogether. He
always picks the mental ones.”

Garrett rubbed his jaw.
“As long as he lays off Marissa’s cousin, he can have any nutter he
wants.” He narrowed his eyes. “You’re being a good lad for my
future in-laws, right?”

Enough of their crap.
“Marissa know you talk about her family like that?”

“In-laws?” Caz shifted
attention to Garrett. “Bending a knee, are you?”

“Whoa. Garrett.” Max
held his palms up. “One guy falls and you think our girlfriends
won’t get ideas?”

Garrett grinned a
shit-eating grin.

Max sat forward. “Caz?
What do you think your girl will say if her BFF gets engaged?”

Caz’s face stilled.
“Don’t worry about Ashley.” His gaze flickered. “I’m calling her
right now.” His frame shut off.

Garrett’s eyes widened.
“Wait. Don’t say anything to Ashley. Caz. You still on?”

He wasn’t.

Garrett cursed, filthy
four-lettered Scottish cursing. They all laughed.

Baylee popped her head
into his room. “Who you talking to?”

Tyler waved her in, but
signed off before Garrett could see her. The room they’d given him
was so tiny it’d be difficult to keep her out of the frame. The
space was smaller than his digs on the tour bus. But it was part of
her home, and he wouldn’t forget that. “No one.”

Baylee grabbed a
handful of his corn. She leaned against the wood paneling. “If you
need help with girls, why didn’t you ask me?”

“I don’t need help with
girls. You eavesdropped wrong.”

“It’s Aria, isn’t it?”
Baylee taunted him in a sing-song voice. “You’ve got a thing for
the drum major.”

“No.”

“Really? You sure stare
at her a lot.” More with the sing-song. “A lot. A lot.”

Tyler dumped the
irritation and took the advantage. “What do you know about
Aria?”

Baylee crunched on the
popcorn and tilted her head. “Are you asking for my advice?”

Like he needed advice
from a girl. He eyed her braces. “You supposed to be eating
that?”

Her gaze flashed to the
door. “Yeah.”

“Kids, come on,” her
mom called from the living room. “The movie’s starting.”

Tyler groaned and
popped off the bed. “Not another chick flick.” They’d watched one
last night.

“I can hear you,” Aunt
Joellen called back. “You’ll like this one.” Her voice held
optimism and teasing.

Baylee grabbed another
handful of popcorn. “You won’t.”

“I know.” He followed
her out. “I can pull up some other stuff on my laptop. We can
stream it to the TV.” Tyler walked behind the boxy TV and looked
for the port. Solid black plastic covered in a light layer of dust
rounded out the back. Huh. The TV had no port. No cable, no Wi-Fi,
and now no port. “We can prop my laptop on top of the TV.”

Aunt Joellen shooed him
toward the two-seater sofa. “What we have is plenty enough.”

Baylee beat him to the
spot by the window unit, and Aunt Joellen took the scratched
recliner. Tyler took the remaining seat.

Pink, flowery font
scrolled across the TV screen.

“I love this one,” Aunt
Joellen sighed. “He’s such a screw-up, but he gets it right in the
end. And the New Year’s Eve scene…” She made a girl noise.

Baylee adjusted her
pillow so it didn’t block the air-conditioning unit. “The one where
he says he was wrong and she was right. And then she says, ‘yes.’
Yeah. That one’s good.”

Sounded like twisted
shit to him. Tyler elbowed Baylee. “Spoiler alert?”

“Sorry.”

Her mom opened her
mouth a little. “You really haven’t seen this one?” Her lips
curved. “You’re in for a treat.” She scrunched a pink lizard pillow
behind her back, rubbed her shoulder, and kicked out the footrest.
“And the star’s so handsome. He looks a little like Baylee’s dad.
You’ll get to meet him if you’re still here for the holidays. He
promises to try and make it back for Thanksgiving.”

Baylee rolled her eyes,
but where her mom couldn’t see.

From what Tyler had
heard of her dad, he was a deadbeat who’d never married her mother
and dropped by when funds got low. The rest of the time he worked
out of town. Tyler didn’t have a clear idea of what he did for a
living. But from the state of their trailer, it didn’t pay much.
From the few things Baylee had said about him, Aunt Joellen would
be better off giving him the boot. Then she could move on. Find a
better guy. One who’d stick around and watch movies with her after
Baylee left for college. One who’d make sure she didn’t have to
work doubles at the freaking knickknack-making lizard factory in
town.

He needed to bring up
the subject of money again. Maybe she’d take rent. Everyone paid
rent who didn’t own, right? He’d have to check with his financial
advisor and see how that worked.

Aunt Joellen clicked
off the lamp and the curved glow of the TV screen sharpened to
slightly less shitty low definition. The lady onscreen swept across
a ballet studio on her toes, whirling to classical music.

The romance had begun.
Anticipation raced through him, and it wasn’t because of the sap
onscreen. It was because of the move he’d make on Aria
tomorrow.

Tyler got out of
English early and headed down the hall. No more playing it cool and
hanging back. Aria had student aid before band. She’d be in the
band hall.

He found her in the
director’s office, bent over the lowest drawer, filing sheets of
music into manila folders while listening to country music. Great
ass. Horrible music.

“Aria.”

Aria straightened.
“Hey.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him closer to the file
cabinet. Her phone rested on top and the music poured from it.
“Listen. Here’s the part where the cello kicks in.” She closed her
eyes and swayed. He watched her until the song ended. Her features
softened, and her face looked all glowy. “Bliss, right?” Her
expression made him jealous of a song. He wanted to be the one to
put that bliss on her face.

“Close.” He checked out
the name on the screen. He could sing it better. Enough
distraction. Tyler nudged aside a sewing kit and propped his arm on
top of the cabinet before giving her the look. The broody pose that
sold a million posters. “We have to talk.” He’d gotten that line
from last night’s movie.

“About what?” Aria
stared back at him with worried dark blue eyes. She flattened her
palm on his chest. Her eyebrows arched. “Tyler?”

He stepped closer,
dropping the pose.

Her delicate, light,
feminine touch burned through the cotton of his shirt, and the
thinness of his undershirt. What could he do to get her to move her
hand in a circle? Or up and down. And down. He lowered his head so
his mouth was against her ear and played his card. “When’s my first
bass lesson?”

Aria eased back, and
her shoulders lowered. She let out a breath. “I thought you were
quitting band. Not that you’d quit the band. You wouldn’t, would
you?”

“I don’t quit.”

Her expression edged on
adoring, like his front-row fans. “You’re still a member of the
Mighty Lizards? The uniform and classmate rejection hasn’t scared
you off?”

He wanted to tip her
expression into full climb-on-stage-and-rush-the-security-guard
passionate. “I don’t scare.”

The bell rang on her
grin. The damn cello-wielding country song had eaten into his time.
“You owe me a lesson.”

“Okay.” Her voice was
soft.

The sound of students
filling the risers interrupted them. Aria clicked off her music
app. She picked up a copy of a business magazine, folded it in
half. Tyler tugged on the top. “What’s with the
Business
Weekly
?”

“That’s going to be my
major, I’m studying up.”

He could tell the spine
of the magazine hadn’t been cracked open. He shifted his gaze to
her curves.

Aria turned back to
him, and he raised his gaze fast. She smiled a smile just for him,
and then scooted by to join the others.

Tyler went to his spot
between Ethan and Dylan, trying not to look too cocky.

Aria went for her chair
in the front. She mouthed, “Text me.”

Finally. She’d made her
move. He let his cocky smirk come out.

Ethan jabbed Tyler’s
elbow with the end of his drumstick. “You got a thing for
Aria?”

Why the fuck was he
asking? Tyler shoved the stick off and narrowed his eyes. He didn’t
answer.

Ethan had on a
neon-orange action-movie shirt. Tyler’s bro Max’s last film. The
movie geek wore a superior look. “’Just saying. She’s more about
the music than giving it up at the Pointe.”

Dylan shoved him in the
arm. “Like you’ve been to the Pointe.”

“So.”

Tyler tensed, wanting
to shove the stick in Ethan’s face. He fucking didn’t care to hear
Aria’s name, the Pointe, and ‘giving it up’ in the same sentence.
Not from another guy.

The Pointe. That must
be this town’s spot. He had to find out more. But first he had to
shut these two down. The last thing he needed was two musicians who
could play better than him looking at Aria and thinking about her
like that. Tyler tensed his fists. “Don’t talk about Aria like
that. She’s teaching me bass.”

“Chill.” Ethan
squirmed. “She’s like a sister. And she shreds on the guitar.”

Dylan rolled his eyes
and rapped his sticks against a snare drum. “Yeah, she’s pretty
good. Damn good. And you won’t find her at the Pointe.”

“Dudes.” All Tyler’s
typical ‘couldn’t care less’ attitude flew out the door. He didn’t
recognize himself. “Stop about Aria.”

Dylan looked like he
was trying not to laugh. Not a typical expression for the broody
Dylan with his trashed jeans, thin T-shirt, holey shoes and ‘don’t
give a shit’ outlook.