Rushed (The Rushed Series) (12 page)

"If you mean Morgan," Kayla said, "she hasn't given up."

"It's been two years. You'd think she'd get the message," Seth said.

"Apparently not." Kayla hopped down from the counter. "If you want to stay on Morgan's good side, stay away from Zach. She double-dibbed him her freshman year." She took my arm. "Finish your granola bar so we can get out of here. While you were at study table, your new big sisters left a clue to who they are on your desks. At the end of the week, the bigs will reveal themselves. Let's go see what you got."
 

As I took the last bite of my granola bar, she looked back over her shoulder, blew a kiss, and waved with her fingers. "Bye, Seth."

Even though she lived out, I hoped Kayla would be my big. When we got to my room, Em was already there and I had a shiny red apple on my desk.

"An apple? Nice," Kayla said, giving nothing away. "Especially if you're still hungry." She winked. "Gotta run. See you later." She walked off.

I went to my desk and picked it up. "This is real clear. So it means my big is from in state? That's ninety percent of the house."
 

Em was sitting on our bed. "Or from apple country."

"Or interned at Apple." I plopped down next to her. "Do we know anyone who has interned at Apple?"

"No. What kind is it?" she asked.

"Red delicious. Do you think that's a clue? Maybe she likes red?" I grinned and took a big, juicy bite. Then I handed it to her for a turn.

"Eating the clues. Nice."

"What did you get?" I asked.

"A bag full of pink jelly beans." She took a bite of apple and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand as she handed it back to me. "That's good."

"Who likes jelly beans?" I said.

"Or pink?"

"Are they pink lemonade jelly beans? Cotton candy?" I asked.

"Cotton candy, I think."

"Maybe the hint is that they like fairs or carnivals or cotton candy," I said.

"It's hopeless."

"Not hopeless. We just need more clues." I was thinking of Zach. I just needed more clues to what made him tick. I wanted to know everything about him.

Tuesday was my lab class day. There was no one as interesting as Zach in any of my classes. As for Zach, he was missing in action at the house. I ran into Paul, Dillon, and Seth, who teased mercilessly, but I seemed to just miss Zach. We still had that paper to write for The History of Rock and Roll. I texted him, asking him to schedule a time to meet. He texted back, asking for my email, saying he would email me what he thought of the music so I could write my half of the paper and I should do the same for him.

He was clearly avoiding me. I wasn't going to let him off the hook that easily. The basement where the guys lived was technically off limits to us. I didn't care. I waited until I saw Seth leave the house and the stairway to the basement was unguarded, then I darted down with my heart pounding.
 

The main floor of the house was gorgeously decorated and built for show. Our rooms and the sleeping porch were more plain and modest than the main floor, but still decent. The basement was another matter altogether—bare wood beams overhead, pipes interspersed with them that clanked and banged as water rushed through them. Concrete walls. The scary furnace.

It was hotter down there than in the house, which didn't make sense until I realized it wasn't air-conditioned. I worked my way past a utility sink, a workroom filled with tools and odd items like snow shovels and spare bits of wood and pipe. I found a hallway that led to two large bedrooms, one on each side of the hall. I had a fifty-fifty chance of choosing Zach's room. Luckily, the door to one room was open, spilling light into the hall. I peeked in and saw Zach sitting on his bed with his laptop in his lap.

The room was cheerier and brighter than the hall. Posters hung on the walls and it was fairly well picked up. Not too many socks on the floor.

"Hey, stranger!"

He had his headphones in and didn't hear me. I touched his foot and he jumped.

"Crap! Alexis?" He pulled his headphones out. "What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be in the basement."

"I'm looking for my study partner. We have an assignment to finish. I won't leave until I find him. Seen him?"

"Oh, shit. Shut the door before someone sees you." He set his laptop beside him on the bed.

I shut the door and sat next to him on his twin bed, cradling my laptop.

"I told you to send me your answers," he said. "I already emailed you my thoughts.

"I had some questions. It's easier to discuss things in person."

"You could have called."
 

"Would you have answered?"

"I thought we already talked at the College Grind."

I stared at him. "We listened to the playlist. What are you afraid of?"

"Losing my job."

I touched his arm. "For doing homework with your partner?"

"Damn it, Alexis." He left what he really felt unsaid. "I'm almost done with my paper. Let's get this over with."

I withdrew my hand and rested it on my laptop. "Wait! How are you almost done?" I frowned. "I haven't given you my answers."

He stared into my eyes. "I watched you while you listened to the playlist with your eyes closed. Everything you felt was written on your face."

"No!" I said.

"Is that too stalkerish?" He held my gaze.

I liked it. "I just don't like thinking I'm so easy to read. Let me see what you've written."

He picked up his laptop and handed it to me as I set mine aside on the floor. As I read, my mouth fell open. What he had written was beautiful, the way my face changed as I listened to each song. He'd captured what I was feeling almost exactly. He couldn't have known that part of my enjoyment was being there with him. "You could see the beat of the music coursing through me?"

He smiled. "You like to move."

I tried not to blush and kept reading. "'Though Alexis felt the lyrics and tone of fifties music are cheesy, at times, they still resonated with her as authentic and timeless. The themes of love moved her. She found it impossible to sit still when listening to the pulsing rhythms that gave birth to the modern rock era.'" I looked up at him. "The rest is impressive, and scarily accurate. This conclusion is a little generic."

"Is it?" He didn't blink.

"You pulled back like there was suddenly an editor on your shoulder. What themes, specifically, are timeless?" I asked.

"How about people being all wrong for each other?"

"I don't know what you mean?" I was being deliberately obtuse.

"Elvis Presley's 'That's All Right'? The first rock and roll song to hit the charts? Parents warning their son that girl he's fooling with isn't any good for him?"

"Would your parents warn you off me?"

"They don't have to." His voice was hard. "I'm smart enough to figure it out myself. Alexis, you know we can't start something. There's too much at stake for both of us."
 

I swallowed hard, thinking we already had. "We aren't." But I was lying.

"The girls in the house are like my sisters. That's all any of them can be. That's the way the system works." He held my gaze until I looked away guiltily.

He was right. But that didn't change the way I felt.
 

The second part of our assignment was to write about how music affects you personally. I returned my attention to his paper and kept reading. "Music saved your life?" I watched him, waiting for his reaction.

"It hasn't yours?"

I frowned. "No, I don't think so. It's gotten me through some rough times, like heartbreak."

"No? Someone broke your heart?" He acted like that was news.

I couldn't tell whether he was teasing me or not. I laughed. "You think I'm too hard-hearted for that to happen?"

"No, just wondering what kind of douchebag would let you go."

My heart raced. If he was flirting with me again, he was killing me. "Getting your heart broken is part of growing up. I should thank the douches who broke mine before for making me more discerning about who I trust." My heart screamed at me to trust Zach, and wished he would trust me. "How did music save your life?"

He hesitated, staring at me like he was debating with himself. Finally, he shrugged. "I don't usually tell this story."

"It's for class. You have to. You want us to get an A, right?" I nodded, encouraging him.
 

He made a point of sighing so heavily he made me laugh.

"You started it," I said.

"Okay, but only because you coerced me." He took a deep breath. "Starting the story is always the hardest part. You have to picture the scene. My mom has a big, wooded lot, nearly an acre. The house is set far to the front of it, toward the street, which leaves a big expanse of private backyard.

"After a particularly nasty fight with her, where she kicked me out, again, I took my iPod and walked into the woods to think. What was I going to do now? She was already on the phone to my dad to take me. I heard her as I walked out. I only heard her side, but I could tell he was pushing back on the idea. He didn't want me either. Living with Dad was just as bad as living with Mom, just a different kind of hell.

"They bounced me between them, each hoping I would stick with the other until I went to college. They wanted me out of their hair and lives. They were done dealing with me.

"I stood out there in the cool of a June evening, listening to my music and thinking as the sun set. School was out for summer. I felt lost and trapped.

"How in the hell was I going to make it through summer until football season started again? How was I going to deal with life? I wanted out. Just wanted to lie down and die."
 

He licked his lips and got a faraway look in his eyes. "One particular song always made me feel like I could fly. I sat down and listened to it over and over until I felt my spirits soar. Until I felt just enough hope to keep me going. That if I could hang on long enough, I could find my place in the world.
 

"A wild rabbit hopped out from beneath a tree and stared at me, wiggling its nose. I'll never forget that. I told it to go away. Pointed at it. It just looked at me, wiggling its nose like it wasn't afraid of me.

"It was like a sign. If that rabbit could be face me down when I was so much bigger than it, I could be brave, too. I knew everything was going to be okay. I got up and went back in the house to deal with my shitty parents."

I put my hand on his arm again. "I'm sorry, Zach."

"About what?"

"Your crappy parents." I rested my hand on his shoulder.

"Don't be. I survived." His grin was melancholy. "I survived it all. The summer after my freshman year, I went home and lived with my mom again. I berated myself the whole time for not finding a way to live anywhere else and still have money for school. I was suffocating, had nearly the same desperate feeling. It was so powerful, it scared me.

"That night, I had a dream that I was flying over campus. So free and light and happy. That song was playing. I was flying to that song.

"When I woke up, I looked at the lyrics in a different way, and realized it had been talking about flying all the time. I knew I'd made the right choice. I haven't looked back. I haven't felt that desperate since."

"That's beautiful, really awesome." I choked up. "What song were you listening to?"

He shook his head. "That's private. Between me and the song. I'll never tell anyone."

"But why?" I turned eyes wide with wonder on him.

"Songs are powerful at bringing up memories. Like party songs make you crave a beer. And songs you heard in elementary school bring back memories from that time. That song has the power to bring me to my knees with the memories it calls up, both good and bad. I listen to it when I need reminding. Or really need to fly. I won't give anyone the power to use it against me ever again."

"I wouldn't—"