Free So Over You by Gwen Hayes Page B

didn’t want a girl to come between our budding friendship.
    “Why do you say that? You’d be a great girlfriend if you just loosened up a little.”
    I sneered at him.
    “Did you write down your dreams last night?”
    “I couldn’t remember any of them. It’s like trying to hold on to a gust of wind.”
    Tyler sat back in his seat and watched me until I began fidgeting. I hate it when he does that. I know he has something to say. It’s usually something I don’t want to hear and usually something I need to.
    “What already?”
    “Do you think the dreams have something to do with your panic attack last week?”
    “No.” Yes. “Can I ask you a question?”
    Tyler nodded.
    “Whatever does a girl wear on a double date in hell?”
    “I have no idea.”
    “Can I ask you another question?”
    “Do I have a choice?”
    “Not really. Will you go to the mall with me after school?”
     
    * * *

     
    Luckily, the helldate was a pizza joint and not too formal, so I stuck with jeans but added a really cute top I’d splurged on at Hollister because Tyler said it made my “eyes look greener” and “can we please go now?” I’m usually more of a t-shirt girl, but I needed a little confidence tonight. Foster would be looking for chinks in my armor—any perceived weakness, and I’d be toast.
    AirMiles were already there with Foster, so I got to make an entrance. Which, of course, I love. Not. They were seated smack-dab in the middle of the room—which I hated—at a table for four. Ariana sat next to her brother and across from Foster. Which meant I got to sit right next to him.
    Both guys stood up when I got to the table. Foster introduced me even though I’d known Miles for years. Puzzled by his odd behavior, I watched as his face flushed briefly. He was nervous too?
    After the pizza got ordered, Foster tried to engage Ariana in conversation, presumably so I could get to know Miles. I say presumably because his effort went unnoticed by brother and sister, who couldn’t seem to function in conversation unless they were finishing each other’s sentences.
    “Miles, you’re in band still aren’t you? Drums, right?” I asked.
    “He is,” answered Ariana. “He’s so awesome. He also plays in a rock band called the Riff.”
    “The Riff,” Miles repeated.
    “I’ve heard of you guys,” I answered. “You played at the park on the Fourth of July, right?”
    “They did. Did you buy a CD?” she answered again.
    “We were selling CDs at the show,” Miles added.
    I nudged Foster. “No…but I thought the band was great.”
    “Ariana,” Foster began. “What do you like to do?”
    “I’m in marching band too. But not the Riff.”
    “She’s our manager,” said Miles.
    Ariana nodded. “I’m their manager.”
    Miles was cute—Ariana was cuter. It was a shame that it was only together that they possessed one personality.
    After a little more chitchat, Ariana announced, “The Riff is playing at Lauren Parker’s birthday bash next month.”
    A red haze clouded my vision at not only the name but the event. I’d spent most of my high school years pretending Lauren Parker didn’t exist. Her little birthday bashes were the big highlight to a lot of students’ years.
    I hadn’t been invited to one since the eighth grade.
    The ice water in front of me saved me from a direct or immediate answer to that, and while I sipped, Foster said, “That’s great, Miles. Lauren’s parties are epic.”
    “You would know,” I answered.
    “Put your claws away, kitten,” Foster mumbled to me, which only ratcheted up my anger—which I’m sure was his goal. “Your band will be great,” he said to Miles. “Will you be there too? As the manager?” he asked Ariana.
    “Oh yeah, I wouldn’t miss it. It’s the best party of the year.”
    “See, that’s what I like to see,” Foster answered. “People making the most of their high school years. Going to parties and sporting events and having