It was her turn to hipcheck him. He laughed and slid his arm around her waist, lifting her off the ground so effortlessly that she couldn’t help but squeal. “Put me down, you oaf.”
“Oaf?” He set her down with a thud. “Not exactly the kind of sweet talk I expected from the girl who is on tap to be Krystal Sword’s first ever female drummer, thanks to me.” He shook his head in mock disappointment and held his hand over his heart, approximately two inches from the beard of one of the members of ZZ Top. He’d found the relic T-shirt at a thrift shop and wore it gleefully in spite of all the shit he took from their classmates. “I’m wounded, truly.”
She grinned and tried not to think of the reason spots were opening up in the band. Gray was heading away to college in not too long, as was another one of the guys who had a scholarship to a school back east. They wanted to get new people to fill in while the longtime members were off being scholarly. It was a fantastic opportunity for her to get some real band experience.
But all she could do was focus on the knee-weakening reality of Gray being gone. She couldn’t imagine playing when he wasn’t at her side. They were a team. He brought the best out of her, and now she was going to have to find her best all by herself.
“You don’t know I’m going to be the drummer. I haven’t auditioned yet. I could blow it.” She stopped and tore open the bag of corn chips, shoving a handful in her mouth. “I’m going to blow it.”
“Don’t be stupid. You’re gonna nail it.” He took the bag back and set it in the cart. “Look, go read a magazine or something. I’m gonna grab a six-pack and pay for this stuff.”
“Get me a—”
“A Sprite. Yeah, yeah. I know you, Edwards. Now go read about giving the perfect BJ in Cosmo or something.” His teasing grin as he shoved her away made her laugh.
Dang, get caught just one time reading a dirty article and a girl was branded for life.
“Fine. Push your own damn cart.” Still grinning, she wandered to the front of the Grab ‘n Go and rifled through the rack of magazines. Nothing caught her eye, at least not of the magazine variety.
She ventured to the line of toy vending machines and played with her bamboo initial necklace, a holdover from her old life. She’d been wanting something new to replace it. A sign of a fresh start. But cash wasn’t exactly plentiful, especially now that it was getting close to the beginning of the new school year. She’d need to buy supplies soon, and she needed to ration the money the Duffys gave her. She didn’t want them to think she was some kind of spendthrift.
And man, she wanted one of these stupid guitar pick necklaces. A dollar a chance with the giant claw. She sucked at this game, but that didn’t stop her from trying.
It’s just junk. You wear junk, baby girl, people will think you’re junk.
Forcing her mom’s voice out of her head, she dug around in her change purse and finally came up with her last four quarters. She was just about to slip them into the slot when a rickety grocery cart rolled up behind her and bumped her gently in the butt.
“Whatcha doin’?”
“It’s nothing.” She started to laugh it off and turn away, but Gray grabbed her arm.
“Liar. Looks like something to me. You want one of these?” He tapped on the machine and dug out his quarters, dumping them in the change slot before she had a chance to pretend she really didn’t want that purple guitar pick necklace.
It was cheesy. Flimsy. It’d probably turn her skin green and break in a week.
But she wanted it with all her heart.
“Yes.” Her voice came out in a whisper, as if she were confessing something shameful. The foster kid liked to drape herself in junk jewelry and pretend she wore diamonds.
“Then it shall be yours.” He shot her a cocky grin and braced his hand on the lever attached to the claw. A few deft manipulations later, he zeroed in on his target and dragged it out from the sea of plastic egg-enclosed treasures with a crow of victory that any sports hero would’ve recognized.
The sweet taste of success.
Still grinning, he plucked it out of the tray and popped open the top. He turned to her and held it out for her inspection. “There you go, baby. All yours.”
Every time he called her baby her heart rioted. Sometimes she didn’t think her skin and bones could hold it inside, not when his twinkling gray eyes settled on hers. She took the container and dug out her prize. She wouldn’t cry. If she kept on smiling, he would never be able to guess how a small hunk of crap could somehow crystallize the totality of her life and everything she wanted and would never have.