Into the Deep
Page 16
This started off the rounds of “what’s your major?” I think every group of new college friends got this off their chests quickly so they never had to utter those banal words ever again. Jake, Beck, and Lowe were industrial engineering undergrads, Denver was doing applied mathematics, Rowena was studying English, and Melissa and Matt were history undergrads.
The guys were teasing Rowena about her major and she was taking it all in good spirit when a bearded guy came up to the band and told them it was time for their set.
Lowe winked at me as he got up. I wished him good luck. He nodded and walked off confidently, the short chain on his jeans swinging as he hopped onto the stage. Claudia shimmied closer to me with an excited smile as the guys readied themselves. The entire time I diligently ignored Jake and Melissa.
Almost simultaneously, Lowe and Beck lifted their guitar straps over their heads, followed by Denver who was their bassist, and Matt seated himself behind the drums. Only Denver and Lowe stood near mics, and Lowe’s was center stage.
I glanced around at the crowded bar and noted a lot of people about our age. Nearly half were girls who looked like cartoon lionesses, staring at Beck and Lowe like they were juicy, talking zebra steaks.
I smirked and turned back to them as the first guitar riff pulsed through the room. As Lowe began singing in a smooth, deep voice—so sexy, I’d happily replace my vibrator with it—I fell into the band’s sound. Lowe was right. I loved his lyrics. They were real, no fairy-tale bullshit, but they were also a contradiction, like he knew what he’d experienced but he couldn’t help still feel maybe there was the possibility of more out there. I’d always thought it was brave of musicians to put their souls on a track. That was even clearer to me now that I actually knew the band, and I had to admit, I was impressed.
A couple of songs into their set, Lowe sang about “being lost in the shallows” and as soon as the lyrics were out of his mouth, my gaze instantly flicked to Jake.
My breath got caught in a painful ball in my throat as my eyes met his.
He wasn’t watching the band. He was watching me.
I shuttered my gaze, ignoring the rushing of blood in my ears, and turned back to concentrate on the band. I couldn’t, though. Not even Lowe’s hot voice could distract me from Jake and the memory of us.
I squirmed uncomfortably for the rest of the set, almost grateful when Lowe murmured into the mic, “You’ve been listening to The Stolen. Thanks, and have a good night.” He smiled over at me as the crowd erupted into applause and whistles, and I smiled back, almost begging him with that look to come over and once again take my mind off Jake Caplin.
Chapter Six
“So,” Mrs. Tate, our English teacher, switched off the television. “Now that you’ve all supposedly read the book and we’ve watched the film, I can ask what you think. We’ve not got a lot of time left, so just briefly. First thoughts?”
I looked around, waiting for a classmate to let their opinion be known. Most of the guys appeared to have fallen asleep watching the movie. Except Jake. I caught his eye as I turned my head to the right. He’d asked Nikki Wells to move from the seat across from me in the next aisle and of course she’d said yes, grinning up at him like he was the Second Coming.
I’d been on three dates with Jake, and we hung out a lot at school. Everyone thought we were together, but I still wasn’t sure. Despite the mysterious feeling of deep connection between us, I didn’t know quite how to take it that the biggest player in our class hadn’t seen fit to kiss me yet. Friday night he’d taken me out and not made so much as a move. Now, Monday morning, I’d seen what appeared to be him flirting with a senior girl at his locker. I’d walked right by him with barely a nod.
I was starting to worry the ass**lery of Brett Thomas and his goons was getting to Jake. They still hadn’t let up, and it wasn’t just about me. Jake’s dad, Logan, had caused some controversy opening up his law firm and poaching clients from Ed Brackett—Brett’s uncle. Ed was a fairly quiet and reserved guy, the complete opposite of his brother-in-law, so any difficulties Jake’s dad was having originated with Trenton Thomas. Rumor had it he was making “idle threats” to anyone who was thinking about taking their business from Ed to Logan Caplin.
Most of the time I loved Lanton, but sometimes I really hated living in such a small town.
I felt bad for Jake’s dad and I hated that Brett was being such a pain in Jake’s ass, but that didn’t excuse him from befuddling the hell out of me, so when Jake winked at me, I raised one very unimpressed eyebrow.
“Charlotte?” Mrs. Tate’s dry tone brought my gaze to her. She looked pointedly at Jake and then back to me. “Any thoughts?”
How about … you’ve known me my whole life so why do you never call me Charley?
“Well?”
I sighed and leaned back in my chair. “Honestly, I found the whole thing a little angst-ridden for my liking.”
My classmates tittered and Mrs. Tate frowned. “You found Jane Austen angst-ridden?”
Apparently Tate thought I was wrong. Oh, well. “There are a lot of misunderstandings that could’ve been cleared up if they’d just talked to one another. The whole thing with Edward and Elinor was exhausting. If he’d just admitted he loved her and broke off his stupid secret engagement to whatshername, Elinor wouldn’t have had to go through all the emotional crap she went through. I mean, she’s very gracious and all, but she spent a good part of that novel pining for a man and she didn’t even know if he felt the same way about her. Edward was a nice guy, but he needed a swift kick to the behind.”
Mrs. Tate crossed her arms, unimpressed. “Charlotte, we’re talking about an entirely different time period, culture, and class system. I think the situation is a lot more complicated than that.”
Okay, so maybe I was projecting.
The bell rang before I could respond and chairs immediately scraped back as the students hurried to get the hell out.
I was stuffing my books in my bag when a shadow fell over my desk. Glancing up sharply, my eyes met Jake’s determined gaze. “What is it?” I frowned, recognizing mischief there. “What are you doing?”
“Clearing up an obvious misunderstanding.”
“What are—”
I didn’t even get the rest of the question out before Jake pulled me up out of my seat, wrapped a tight hand around my nape, and crushed my mouth beneath his.
The guys were teasing Rowena about her major and she was taking it all in good spirit when a bearded guy came up to the band and told them it was time for their set.
Lowe winked at me as he got up. I wished him good luck. He nodded and walked off confidently, the short chain on his jeans swinging as he hopped onto the stage. Claudia shimmied closer to me with an excited smile as the guys readied themselves. The entire time I diligently ignored Jake and Melissa.
Almost simultaneously, Lowe and Beck lifted their guitar straps over their heads, followed by Denver who was their bassist, and Matt seated himself behind the drums. Only Denver and Lowe stood near mics, and Lowe’s was center stage.
I glanced around at the crowded bar and noted a lot of people about our age. Nearly half were girls who looked like cartoon lionesses, staring at Beck and Lowe like they were juicy, talking zebra steaks.
I smirked and turned back to them as the first guitar riff pulsed through the room. As Lowe began singing in a smooth, deep voice—so sexy, I’d happily replace my vibrator with it—I fell into the band’s sound. Lowe was right. I loved his lyrics. They were real, no fairy-tale bullshit, but they were also a contradiction, like he knew what he’d experienced but he couldn’t help still feel maybe there was the possibility of more out there. I’d always thought it was brave of musicians to put their souls on a track. That was even clearer to me now that I actually knew the band, and I had to admit, I was impressed.
A couple of songs into their set, Lowe sang about “being lost in the shallows” and as soon as the lyrics were out of his mouth, my gaze instantly flicked to Jake.
My breath got caught in a painful ball in my throat as my eyes met his.
He wasn’t watching the band. He was watching me.
I shuttered my gaze, ignoring the rushing of blood in my ears, and turned back to concentrate on the band. I couldn’t, though. Not even Lowe’s hot voice could distract me from Jake and the memory of us.
I squirmed uncomfortably for the rest of the set, almost grateful when Lowe murmured into the mic, “You’ve been listening to The Stolen. Thanks, and have a good night.” He smiled over at me as the crowd erupted into applause and whistles, and I smiled back, almost begging him with that look to come over and once again take my mind off Jake Caplin.
Chapter Six
“So,” Mrs. Tate, our English teacher, switched off the television. “Now that you’ve all supposedly read the book and we’ve watched the film, I can ask what you think. We’ve not got a lot of time left, so just briefly. First thoughts?”
I looked around, waiting for a classmate to let their opinion be known. Most of the guys appeared to have fallen asleep watching the movie. Except Jake. I caught his eye as I turned my head to the right. He’d asked Nikki Wells to move from the seat across from me in the next aisle and of course she’d said yes, grinning up at him like he was the Second Coming.
I’d been on three dates with Jake, and we hung out a lot at school. Everyone thought we were together, but I still wasn’t sure. Despite the mysterious feeling of deep connection between us, I didn’t know quite how to take it that the biggest player in our class hadn’t seen fit to kiss me yet. Friday night he’d taken me out and not made so much as a move. Now, Monday morning, I’d seen what appeared to be him flirting with a senior girl at his locker. I’d walked right by him with barely a nod.
I was starting to worry the ass**lery of Brett Thomas and his goons was getting to Jake. They still hadn’t let up, and it wasn’t just about me. Jake’s dad, Logan, had caused some controversy opening up his law firm and poaching clients from Ed Brackett—Brett’s uncle. Ed was a fairly quiet and reserved guy, the complete opposite of his brother-in-law, so any difficulties Jake’s dad was having originated with Trenton Thomas. Rumor had it he was making “idle threats” to anyone who was thinking about taking their business from Ed to Logan Caplin.
Most of the time I loved Lanton, but sometimes I really hated living in such a small town.
I felt bad for Jake’s dad and I hated that Brett was being such a pain in Jake’s ass, but that didn’t excuse him from befuddling the hell out of me, so when Jake winked at me, I raised one very unimpressed eyebrow.
“Charlotte?” Mrs. Tate’s dry tone brought my gaze to her. She looked pointedly at Jake and then back to me. “Any thoughts?”
How about … you’ve known me my whole life so why do you never call me Charley?
“Well?”
I sighed and leaned back in my chair. “Honestly, I found the whole thing a little angst-ridden for my liking.”
My classmates tittered and Mrs. Tate frowned. “You found Jane Austen angst-ridden?”
Apparently Tate thought I was wrong. Oh, well. “There are a lot of misunderstandings that could’ve been cleared up if they’d just talked to one another. The whole thing with Edward and Elinor was exhausting. If he’d just admitted he loved her and broke off his stupid secret engagement to whatshername, Elinor wouldn’t have had to go through all the emotional crap she went through. I mean, she’s very gracious and all, but she spent a good part of that novel pining for a man and she didn’t even know if he felt the same way about her. Edward was a nice guy, but he needed a swift kick to the behind.”
Mrs. Tate crossed her arms, unimpressed. “Charlotte, we’re talking about an entirely different time period, culture, and class system. I think the situation is a lot more complicated than that.”
Okay, so maybe I was projecting.
The bell rang before I could respond and chairs immediately scraped back as the students hurried to get the hell out.
I was stuffing my books in my bag when a shadow fell over my desk. Glancing up sharply, my eyes met Jake’s determined gaze. “What is it?” I frowned, recognizing mischief there. “What are you doing?”
“Clearing up an obvious misunderstanding.”
“What are—”
I didn’t even get the rest of the question out before Jake pulled me up out of my seat, wrapped a tight hand around my nape, and crushed my mouth beneath his.
