Jersey Girl (Sticks & Hearts #1) (19 page)

"Dude, it's kind of hard when I can hear them screaming their appreciation in the middle of the night. Hello," he points to the hallway, "our rooms are less than twenty feet apart."

"Last year maybe," I reply hoarsely. "Face it, buddy, it's been months since you've had to endure that kind of torture." He narrows his eyes and ponders my words, only offering a shrug of his shoulder to indicate his acceptance of my statement. Given the fact that I've been spending so much time with his sister, and how I really don't want him bringing
that
up, I quickly change the subject. "So, what's it going to be?"

"I guess I don't have a choice. I'll have to call up Ash." He rises from his chair and starts down the hall, probably going to hide and grovel. All of a sudden, he stops, turns around, and gives me the widest grin I've ever seen on a human face. "YOU!" He points a finger at me as he slowly approaches. "I don't know why I didn't think of it before. It's perfect." He smacks his palm across his forehead and continues grinning.

"What's perfect? And wipe that grin off your face. You're starting to freak me out."

"Cassie adores you." He throws an arm around my shoulders and pulls me close. "Who better than my best buddy to come to my rescue? This is genius." He drops his arm and struts around, proud of himself for coming up with a solution to his self-made crisis.

"No way, not happening," I cross my arms over my chest and feign annoyance. Truth is, I'd be honored to go and support her. She never asked if I wanted to attend; she probably assumed I wouldn't be interested. Nothing could be further from the truth. I love listening to her play, but I've never seen her perform in front of an audience. All the times she's played for me have been when we were alone.

"Why not?" He crosses his arms.

Why not? I want to scream at him. How about because she's
your
sister, and she came to this school to be closer to you. Yet all you do is find ways to avoid spending time with her. Don't you realize how lucky you are to have her in your life? I want to scream all of this at him, but I know it won't make a difference.

"Because I have plans." It's a lie, but he doesn't need to know that.

"Come on, Cage. You know if the tables were turned, I'd be there for you."

I decide if I'm going to do this, I may as well benefit from it. "If I'm giving up a date with a hot chick, then what do I get in return?"

"My undying appreciation." He looks over and sees the firm set of my jaw then quickly adds, "And I'll get Ash to hook you up with one of her roommates."

I mull it over, my brain scanning over the list of Ashley's friends. Honestly, there's not a single one I'd agree to date, but I don't tell him that. "Deal, just make sure it's not that chick Marshall tapped last month. She gave him a nasty case of crabs." I laugh and remember how Marshal had looked ripping off his cup and digging at his junk.

"Cage, I think it goes without saying that my sister isn't one of your conquests. Got it? I don't want you touching her, or trying to kiss her, and I most certainly do
not
want you fucking her. Am I making myself clear?"

"What the hell? You make it sound as if I treat women like a piece of meat." A playful smile tugs at the corners of my mouth when I think about Cassie. It's a good thing he hadn't been there to see the look on my face when she licked salt off my body, or if he knew whose face I picture every morning when I rub one out. If he had a clue about any of those things, he wouldn't be asking for my help.

"Cage," he threatens in a low growl.

I throw my hands up and feign defeat. "I hear you. I promise to be a perfect gentleman. I'll attend her performance and even buy her flowers if that makes you feel better."

"That's all I'm asking, man. Thanks."

CASSIE

Today is Saturday, November 14. I know this not because I've bothered to look at a calendar in the last few days, though it does come up every time I open my phone. I know this because today is my recital. The day I've been preparing for, staying up late for, playing my heart out over for the last six months. Ever since the day I sat in that park and penned this very song I'm about to showcase. Is it my best work? Probably not. Would I choose to play it if I had something else in my bag of tricks? That's a difficult question. Am I proud of the way the arrangement turned out? You bet your ass I am. I have no doubt it's a great piece. I only wish I'd written it after meeting Brantley.

Six months ago I was in a different place. Mentally and physically. While I had been dating Justin back then, he'd never been able to stir up the kind of emotions I feel every time I'm around Brantley. I've grown to depend on him. It's hard not to when he loves coming to my rescue. A few nights ago, I playfully called him my Superman, but a part of me had been serious. There's something about knowing he's out there, watching out for me, and ready to stop locomotives at a moment's notice. Well, that kind of attention does something to your heart. Softens it just a little. Molds it into something better. Something stronger.

In twelve short weeks he's managed to turn my heart into a puddle of goo. I often wonder if we would've reached this level if I hadn't told him who I was that first morning? Probably not. Most likely I would have become just another girl he hooked up with and never contacted again. Twelve weeks ago I could have killed Scotty for ruining that opportunity. Today I realize it had worked in my favor after all. What we have feels special, and I want to tell him so, so badly. But I'm terrified of scaring him off. I know he cares for me. And I'm certain he's attracted to me. He's been pretty obvious in the way he touches me or holds my hand. A shiver courses through my body when I think of his lips on my mine.

I never asked him to come for me today. I didn't want him to feel obligated. I'd rather he be here because he wants to, not because he feels he has to. Sitting backstage by myself leaves me wishing I'd taken the chance and invited him. It would be nice to know
someone
I loved was out there cheering for me.

There's a party later tonight at one of the frat houses. I'd heard about it last week and invited B to join me but he'd declined. I don't think it was because he didn't want to be with me. I think it had more to do with the fact he isn't crazy about the fraternity hosting the party. Then, the other day after class Dan Harwood caught me off guard by inviting me to attend the party as his date. I like Dan, he's nice enough, but to call what we're doing tonight a date would be quite a stretch. I agreed to go with him only on the condition he keep his hands to himself.

I agreed to go, but now I don't want to be there without B.

"I think I'm going to be sick," I jump up and quickly make my way down the hall to the restroom, nearly knocking over a young girl in my haste. I've seen her before in the music department. Dana, I think that's her name. Thankfully, the room is empty when I push open the door. I pause to lock it just before leaning over the porcelain bowl. The room feels like it's spinning, and the yogurt and granola I had this morning threaten to come back up.

I remain in one position, afraid to move for fear I'll vomit or pass out. Sweat pools under my arms, and I begin doubting the claims made by my deodorant manufacturer. When the sweat trickles down my back, I look at the sparkling tile floor and seriously consider lying flat on my back. It looks cool and inviting.

I spent most of the day yesterday locked in a practice room at the music school working on my arrangement. During that time, I can't recall breaking for water or food. I know I drank water at some point, but outside of the yogurt this morning I haven't eaten a meal since Thursday evening with Brantley.

I'm still flattered he dropped everything he was doing so I wouldn't be alone. He knew I'd been looking forward to my evening with Scott, and when he'd heard I'd been let down he just showed up and made everything right again. I know it's probably unfair to always expect him to be in superhero mode, but I must admit he'd look pretty hot in a pair of Superman's tights.

The wave of nausea passes so I close the lid on the toilet and take a seat. This isn't the first time I've played in front of an audience, but tonight I'm nervous as hell. I keep going over the opening chords in my head. I've played them so many times I know them backwards and forwards. There's no reason for me to be bent over this toilet, but for some reason my hands won't stop shaking.

I replay the arrangement over in my head, moving my fingers as if a grand piano were here in this tiny stall. Everything feels right. Everything is in sequence. I've got this. I know I do.

I can do this
.

Then I think about Brantley, and I want to see him and tell him how I feel about him, then my insides tumble once again. Suddenly, I feel claustrophobic and my fingers become useless appendages as they struggle to open the sliding lock trapping me the stall. Then I begin to panic. If I can't make my fingers work to open a friggin' door, how on earth will I play a four-minute arrangement? It takes a few moments to finally pry it open, and by the time I'm finally out in the hall, I'm bent in half and fighting for a full breath of air. Eventually, my breathing evens out and when I stand, I walk straight into the arms of my hero.

BRANTLEY

I
take a seat in a row toward the middle of the auditorium. Shifting the bouquet of roses to the crook of my arm. I peruse the program handed to me upon entering. I note that Cassie's piece isn't until the middle of the recital so I get an idea to go backstage and wish her luck. Somehow I managed to avoid telling her I'd be here tonight. The time we spent together Thursday night had been amazing, in so many ways. I love spending time with her and being her friend. But there's a part of me deep down that wonders what more with her would look like. I'm fairly certain it would supersede all my expectations, but having something that good would only mean I have something wonderful to lose. I know I don't want to go through that kind of pain again. It's not worth it. Besides, I would be too afraid of messing up what we have. What we're doing now seems to work. We hang out, we flirt, we support one another. It's as if I have everything I've ever wanted with a woman; the only thing missing is sex. And dammit, I
want
to have sex with her. I think about it all the time, but I have to be strong for both of us. I can see in her eyes that she wants me too, though I don't think she'll ever admit it.

The door to the performance area is locked, but I luck out when one of the girls working backstage recognizes me and lets me through. I search the rooms for any sign of Cassie, but I come up empty. The same girl who let me in finds me wandering aimlessly and offers to help.

"Are you looking for someone?" she asks, eyeing the large bouquet of pink roses.

"Um, yeah." I clear my throat and smile an awkward smile. "Cassie Rivers."

"I think I just saw her down by the women's bathroom. She looked pretty nervous. I'm sure those roses will cheer her up."

"Thanks, uh, Dana?" I take a stab at her name and hope I get it right.

"Yeah, that's right. You're welcome, Brantley." She giggles softly before turning on her heel and continuing down the darkened hall.

I find her bent over outside the women's bathroom and make my way down the hall as fast as I can. She stands, and without looking, walks straight into my arms. When she takes a step back, her face is pale, and I notice her hands are shaking.

"B? What on earth are you doing here?" She checks over her shoulder as if expecting to find someone else I would be looking for.

"I came for you, baby. You know, for a smart girl you sure are dense sometimes." I bend to place a kiss on her forehead and find it's damp. "Hey, are you alright? You're not going to pass out or anything like that?" I take her hand and pull her back inside the bathroom. "Sit." I order, motioning to the covered garbage can. I wet a few paper towels and press them to her forehead.

"What are you doing?" she calmly questions.

"You're clammy, and you looked like you were going to faint. Have you had any water today?"

"Umm, I honestly don't remember." Her blue eyes go round with panic. "Holy shit, B. I don't know if I can do this. I'm shaking like a leaf."

"We need to get you a bottle of water. You're probably dehydrated. You've got a crowd to wow, and I'm not about to let you fall apart on my watch." With that said I bend and scoop her up in my arms. She's light as a feather, and her thin arms lock around my neck as I carry her down the hall, following her directions to a room where she'll be more comfortable. As we step through the door I look around and see a group of anxious faces. These must be the other musicians performing tonight. Two guys stand and make room for me to place her on the sofa. I ask one of them to run and grab me a bottle of water and within a minute he returns with not one but two. I thank him and turn back to her. I crouch beside her and lift the bottle to her lips.

"I can drink a bottle of water. I don't need you to do it for me." She gently chastises, taking the bottle from my grasp. After downing half of it, she comes up for air. "The flowers are gorgeous, thank you. So, tell me, why are you really here? Did Scotty ask you to come? And please don't lie to me."

I sigh, knowing she'll see right through me if I try to tell anything but the honest truth. "Yes, he asked me yesterday, but I would've come anyway."

"Why?" she whispers.

"I told you, Cassie. I'll always be there for you. Besides, I love hearing you play. Now, finish your water and go out there and knock these people on their uptight asses."

"I'll do my best." She cracks a smile, and I thread our fingers together. They fit perfectly. She stares at our joined hands, while I stare at her. She's breathtakingly beautiful. "You better get going and find a seat, the recital's about to start." I only make it five feet before her voice pulls me back. "Hey, Superman, thanks for saving me again."