Over It (The Kiss Off #2) (24 page)

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. Was that true? No, wait… it couldn’t possibly be. If he’d never met me, he’d never have sung
The Kiss Off
at the Fox Tail that night, would never have been signed to Faux Hawk Records, would never be headlining music festivals and selling out music halls. But he
would
have graduated from high school this year and be contemplating a college music program while day-dreaming of the big time one day. When he was ready.

No. Meeting me was the catalyst to all of his dreams coming true, the catalyst that projected him into the amazing life he was leading now that every young rocker would kill for.

She was lying.

“That’s bull,” I said. But I had no way of knowing for sure without asking him.

Easy.

“You know what? If that’s true,” I said, grabbing my purse from where I’d dumped it on the couch, “I’ll just go ask him. And you better leave because I’m calling security on your ass.”

As I took a step toward the door, her face contorted, pinched in fury. She let out a low, guttural growl from somewhere deep in the bottom of her warped, unravelling soul. Astrid lunged for me and I staggered back, skirted around the coffee table and over the back of the couch. My eyes darted about, hunting for an escape route. I noticed the balcony door and made a beeline for it.

“Get back here!”

I hauled the door open, slid through and heaved it shut between us, barely noticing as rain pelted the back of my robe. What the hell? When had that started? It didn’t matter: focus, Poppy!

She was just a fan, hey Ty? Just a super fan? I knew she was worth worrying about, I knew it!

What worried me the most was that I didn’t know what she was capable of. What did she have planned once she caught me? This sweet, lovely girl…

I scrabbled my fingers over the door handle to snib the lock, secure me safely away from her.

But there was no lock. It only locked from the inside.

I planted my bare feet on the slippery tiles, gripped the handle and leaned, ready for the moment she tried to pull it open. I would push back to keep it closed with every ounce of strength I could muster.

But she didn’t pull the door open. She stood on the other side and watched me through the glass. She smiled.

That was concerning.

Astrid reached for the door handle.

I took a deep breath.
Here we go
…

Click.

She smiled triumphantly and backed away from the door.

“Hey… no… wait…”

I pulled on the handle, but the door wouldn’t move. If locking me on a balcony in the rain wasn’t an attempt to stop me from confirming her story with Ty, I didn’t know what was.

She smoothed her hair behind her ears, sat back on the couch and pulled the laptop close again.

Oh no. My song.

“Hey!” I thumped on the glass with my palm. “Hey, what are you doing? Stay away from that!”

She plugged in a USB and Ty’s IPod. She had to be kidding – she was making him another playlist? Now?

She glanced at me suspiciously. “What is this, anyway?” she asked, her voice somewhat muffled through the glass.

Now I’d done it. She focused all her attention on the laptop and my song in Studio Time. She found the play button and as the cold rain soaked through the robe, frizzed my already wet hair and caused goose pimples to ripple across my skin, I heard my song playing faintly in the living room.

No I’m not going to behave

I’m not your fucking slave

I’m my own person and I’mma show it

I’m telling you babe: [Pause] I’m over it.

Her jaw clenched and she shook her head at me with disapproval.

“So this is how you feel, huh? You’re ‘over it’?”

“It’s just a song, it’s not about Ty.”

“Of course it is,” she said. “Everything else you write is about you and your life.”

“But it’s not!”

“I don’t believe you,” Astrid said, pursing her lips together, looking smug. “and neither will he.”

She snapped the laptop lid shut, unplugged the power supply, hugged the computer to her chest and strode for the door.

I beat on the glass, slamming my palm against the door. “Astrid, give that back!” All that work, all that tension and angst of the last few days… What was she doing? Was she really going to leave me here?

She paused for a second by the side table and my stomach clenched when I realized what she’d spotted.

She picked up my cell from where I’d left it after taking a call from Dad earlier. Astrid gave it a little shake for emphasis and said, “Maybe I’ll just give Ty a quick call and play the song for him, just so he’s clear on how you really feel.”

“No,” I said. “Don’t do that. It’s not about him, Astrid, it’s not about him!”

She smiled that ugly, smug smile of hers, knowing she had me beat.

She opened the hotel room door.

“What are you doing? Where are you going?” I shouted, banging on the glass some more. She was leaving. She was leaving me locked out in the rain and taking my song with her. Taking it to Ty to break us up forever.

“Astrid, stop!” I pulled on the door handle again and again. “Let me in! It’s not about him, I swear!”

And it wasn’t. It was an amalgamation of all the stories about guys being dirt bags that Lana and I could think of. It was about Kendra’s love-rat ex. Yes, I suppose there might have been a little of Ty in there, but there was also some Cam, some Tommy, some Dev and some of every guy on the planet who’d treated a girl like a second–class citizen. Most importantly, it was something the Debutante Dolls would sound fierce singing.

“Like it matters,” Astrid said. Then she opened the door, turned back to me and gave me a sarcastic salute, before the door fell shut behind her.

Shit.

Oh my God.

Shit.

Shit–shit–shit!

I yanked on the handle of the glass balcony door and groaned with the effort of pulling, but the lock held tight.

What was I going to do?

What was
she
going to do? Now that I realized I didn’t want a break from Ty, she was going to play him my song and convince him that I did. That we weren’t just on a break, but I was going to publicly humiliate him, that we were broken up altogether. And then what? What was she going to do with the laptop? Where was she going to take it? I had to get it back. If this whole nightmare weekend was going to be worth it, if Ty and I were really going to be done because of it, then I had to get that song to Paul.

It
needed
to be worth it. I wiped speckled raindrops from the glass and squinted at the Blu–ray player display inside: 6:27pm.

Nooooo, no, no. He needed it emailed by 7:30pm, before his flight.

This couldn’t be happening.
This couldn’t be happening
.

I turned around to face the railing and the twelve story drop to the pool, the topiary dolphin and the extremely solid–looking concrete below. The way my day was going, I knew very well which one of the three I would land on.

What was I going to do?

I clamped my hands around the railing in frustration, eyes closed against the raindrops as they floated at an angle on the wind, spraying me in the face.

I tossed my tote bag onto the small table and collapsed into the lounge chair on the balcony, which was much swankier than the iron outdoor seat we had on the third floor.

I was trapped. I wasn’t going anywhere. I’d lost Ty and blown my big shot. It was over.

I looked around, pulling the wet bathrobe tighter around me, settling into my misery for the next couple of hours during which I would no doubt develop pneumonia if the stupid rain didn’t let up. Maybe security would bust the door down if I stripped the robe off and jumped around, hollering at the people below.

My wandering gaze paused on the next balcony over and I blinked droplets of water out of my eyes for a better look. The door was ajar.
The balcony door was ajar.

I jumped up and gripped the side railing. There was about ten feet between the two balconies, probably for privacy since this was a swanky place and I was up in the ritzy rooms and all. But there was also a ledge between the balconies.

There was a freaking ledge.

I was still in the game!

I stared at the little ledge, my heart hammering, adrenaline pumping. Could I really creep along it to the next room? Was I going to… I was going to do it, wasn’t I?

Here went nothing.

I took a deep breath and spotted my tote bag on the seat in the corner. I don’t know how it happened but some sort of miracle-making fairy of forgetfulness had organized for me to have been absent–minded enough to have left my tote complete with room key on Ty’s balcony. I threw the strap over my shoulder, pressed it firmly to the side of my robe and placed one hand against the concrete outer wall. I wiped away water on the railing and wrapped the fingers of my other hand firmly around it and eased my body up and over.

Holy moly I was actually doing this.

Once I was over the railing I wrapped both arms around it and closed my eyes for a second, trying not to freak out. Freaking out could only lead to bad things. Like broken bones or funerals.

If anyone doubted my dedication to Ty and my music career, well I now had a story to tell them.

Okay. Okay, here I go. Gingerly, I stepped one foot out onto the ledge. It was big enough that there were a couple of inches of ledge in front of my toes, you’d think it was like they
wanted
people to skip over to the next balcony. With arms extended and hands pressed against the wall like a suction cup, I breathed out, then moved my other foot.

I was on the ledge. I was doing it. Inch by inch I stepped the ten feet… nine feet… eight feet across to the other balcony.

I didn’t look down; like hell I would do that. I turned my head to the side to keep the rain out of my eyes. My wet hair plastered to my skin. My gaze was fixed on the next balcony railing and nothing would distract me from it. Not even that it felt a little like the belt of my robe was loosening a touch with every movement. If I ended up walking on a ledge and flashing whoever was below or looking out their window at the time, there was nothing that could be done about it. If I tried to cinch the belt tighter again I just knew I would lose my balance and free fall my way into Pancake de Poppy.

Five feet.

Four feet.

Three feet.

The balcony was getting closer, or I was getting closer to it – regardless, I dared not look at anything else. If I even so much as glanced elsewhere and came face to face with open, empty sky, that would be it, I knew it.

Two feet.

My fingers reached desperately for the railing.

One foot.

I wrapped my hand around the metal rail, set my foot on the bottom runner, climbed over and collapsed into a Jell–O–legged heap on Ty’s neighbor’s balcony. As my heart just about exploded in my chest, beating like it had never beat before, I cinched the belt around my waist. I had my priorities.

I gave myself twenty seconds of breathing and marvelling that I was still alive, before I pushed on. Astrid was getting away. At least I knew where she was going.

I got to my feet. The curtains were drawn over the balcony door and it was dark inside. When Ty’s neighbor left for the day they probably didn’t even realize they’d left it open.

I slowly, quietly slid the door wider, suddenly very aware that I was breaking and entering. Or, you know, entering.

I made my way across the living room and was nearly at the door when I remembered I was wearing a bathrobe; a sopping wet one at that.

Without thinking about it enough to talk myself out of it, I scurried to the bedroom and hit the jackpot: women’s clothes. I grabbed the white tank that lay on the mound of blankets on the bed and scooped up the black skinny jeans from the floor. I stuffed my feet into a flip–flop. It was my size! I scanned around for the other one then spotted it half under the bed so I dropped to my knees and fished it out. There was a pair of pants under the bed as well. I pulled them out and my stomach lurched. Red and gray checks.

There was some rustling above me, a bedside light flicked on and a pair of bare feet hit the ground.

I shot to my feet, staring in horror at Lexie De Graff’s sleepy face.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

I stood there in my sopping bathrobe, dripping onto her carpet, wearing her flip–flops and hugging her tank top and jeans to my chest.

“What are you doing in here?”

“Uh, this isn’t what it looks like,” I said.

“Wait – you’re Tyler’s friend…”

“I’m sorry,” I said, backing out of the bedroom. “About the fainting thing earlier. I would explain but there’s no time. I just need some clothes.”

“
My
clothes?” she interrupted, looking astounded. “What are you doing in my room?