The Secrets of Attraction (22 page)

Jesse commanded the stage, legs straight and slightly apart. He held the guitar with a kind of lazy control that made him look like he might have had better places to be but was choosing to hang out with us for a while. Broody Barista was nowhere to be seen as he writhed to the music, eyes rolling up into his head when he sang, mouth barely caressing the mic with each word. His presence filled the room.

“Omigod, they're good!” Wren shrieked into my ear.

Grayson was sick behind the drums, precise and fast, his hair flipping around with his effort. Even Tanner made that stupid hat look cool.

Jesse picked me out again. His eyes on mine, I felt like he was sharing some part of himself that could only come out in the dark. That it was just the two of us. I moved with the music,
his
music. Anytime he looked away, I had the urge to throw myself into his line of vision again.

The crowd grew thicker, swelling, pushing us closer to the stage. People thrashed and pogoed and knocked into one another around us. I looked behind me, and between the bobbing silhouettes I caught a flash of Jazz and Logan, standing near the back and moving along with the crowd. And I caught a glimpse of . . .
Zach
? Shit. He stood by the wall, stock-still, a statue in the midst of pandemonium. I wasn't sure if he saw me.

Someone knocked into Wren and me, sending a spray of cold liquid across us. We both screamed from the chill and turned around. The burly guy held his hands up.

“Sorry, sorry.” He gave us each a once-over and leered. “Hey.”

A hand clamped on his shoulder and spun him around.

The guy in the leather kilt.

“Watch it,” he said in leering guy's face. For someone in a skirt, he was pretty threatening. He shoved the guy back into the crowd. “Are you okay?”

Wren nodded. Zach worked his way through the crowd toward us. All I knew is that I couldn't stand up front with him. How long had he been here? Did he see . . . God, did he see Jesse looking at me, because if he did, if he saw me . . . snagged.

“Zach's here,” I whisper-yelled into Wren's ear. She raised her eyebrows. I wriggled over and met him in the crowd halfway.

“Did you get hurt?”

“No, I'm fine.” I motioned toward the back of the room, covering my nose as I walked through a cloud of rank sweat and cologne. He grabbed my hand and snaked us through. Once we were past the mass of bodies, the air was cooler. I swear I could feel Jesse's eyes on me. The crowd went wild as he played the first chords of “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” I had to force myself to look disinterested. We found an empty space near the edge of the bar.

“Nice shirt,” Zach said.

I squirmed. Why hadn't I just answered his texts?

“Zach.”

“That's the guy from the coffee place, isn't it?”

“We're friends, Zach, you know that.”

“Friends like we're friends?”

“No.” I crossed my arms. “What are you doing here?”

He tilted his chin toward the stage. “He told me about it, remember? My scrimmage was canceled and Kyle and I were looking for something to do, but you would have known that if you answered your phone. I don't get it, Madison, why didn't you just call me?”

My throat constricted, the air thick and hot around me.

“Why don't we get out of here?” he asked.

“No, they just went on. Let's stay.”

“I don't want to. Kyle's having trouble finding a parking spot anyway; I think we're going to head back home, hit the diner.”

“Okay, you do that.”

He flinched.

“Fine.” He brushed by me and wove through the bar crowd toward the front door. I squeezed my eyes shut. Counted to ten. He wanted me to follow him. Maybe it would all just go away, and we wouldn't have to have that conversation. The one I'd been putting off since Sadie Hawkins. I wanted to be in front of the stage again. When I opened my eyes, Zach had returned.

“Can we talk, out front? Please.”

I relented and followed him through the bar. Foxy Yoo-hoo Guy was sitting at the entrance and nodded as we walked out. We continued out onto the street, moving to the side of Whiskey Business so people could get in. The echo of the band still hummed in my ears. I crossed my arms against the cold. Zach paced in front of me.

“Does it make you feel good to ignore me or something?”

“No.”

“Then why do you do it?”

“I don't—”

“Yes you fucking do, Madison. When we're alone, everything's perfect, but the minute we go out, or talk about doing something—other than each other, I guess—you get all weird about it. Have you even thought about what I said to you?”

Some passing girls who'd heard what he said burst out laughing. My mouth went dry. “Please don't talk about this here. Now.”

“Why? Am I embarrassing you? Is that it? Am I such a fucking embarrassment that you can draw me in your little sketchbook but you can't really be with me?”

“Enough.” I could feel the pressure building. Those words again, waiting to come out. Was I ready to say them? Why was I holding on to this? Whatever it was? Because sometimes it was better to be with him than to be alone? I'd never be able to say to him what he'd said to me.

“Why didn't you answer my texts today?”

“Because I don't want you here!” The words sprang out of my mouth and right into his face. The anger he'd been directing at me dissolved. His face softened. His eyes. Hell, I had to look away. “I'm sorry.”

He stood next to me and leaned against the window of the club. Shoulders drooped a bit, hands in pockets. “Don't be, at least I know the truth.”

“Zach—”

“Maddie, just shut up, okay? Shut up.”

We stood like that for a few minutes, the streets alive with Saturday night bar crawlers. A bachelorette party, the bride with a sash and a tiara, stumbled into Whiskey Business as a couple of guys wandered out. Not just any guys.

“Logan?” I said.

He spun around while his friends kept walking, oblivious. “Yeah?”

It was the first time I got a really good look at him. He was cute . . . longish hair and an almost imperceptible chin cleft that made his face interesting.

“Where's Jazz?”

“She's inside.”

“Are you leaving?”

He looked toward Luke and Andy, who finally realized he wasn't with them and stopped. “We got invited to this party in a brownstone. She didn't feel like coming.”

I wanted to tell him how nervous she'd been to ask him out for tonight. How fucking lit up she'd been after fooling around with him in the hallway at the dance. Why would he leave, if he knew how important it was to her? But who was I to give anyone advice? He waited for a moment, then turned and caught up with his friends.

“Hey, Zach.” Kyle trotted toward us from the curb where his car was double-parked. “I can't find a fucking spot and I'm not paying twenty-five dollars for a parking garage so we can hang out for an hour. Hey, Madison.” He acknowledged me with a nod—a nod that said he knew exactly what was going on.

“I'll be right there,” Zach said. Kyle jogged back to his car. Zach turned to me.

“So, this is it, I guess.”

“Zach, I'm sorry, I just wanted to hang with Wren and Jazz. I shouldn't have ignored you.”

“It's more than that, Madison, and you know it.”

“You don't have to go, really.”

“Yeah, I do.” He started walking away, then turned back. “I meant what I said that night. It's really sort of fucked up that you can't even . . .”

“You can't force me to say something I don't feel.”

“The rush from this guy is going to wear off too.”

“This is not about a guy.”

“Sure it is. I see the way you look at each other.”

“Zach.”
How did I look at Jesse?

“Just, good luck. Maybe you'll let him in, Madison.” He turned away then and got into the car without looking back.
Maybe you'll let him in?
What did he even mean? It was the most interesting thing he'd said to me in our five months together. I watched the car head down Washington Street until I couldn't see it anymore. He really wasn't coming back.

I felt like I should cry, or yell, or
something
. Why would he just say that and leave?

“Kenzie.”

I kicked the sidewalk, took a few deep breaths. How much of the set had I missed?

“Kenzie,” a voice said again.

I turned around. Foxy Yoo-hoo Guy smiled at me.

“Your friends are looking for you,” he said.

“Oh, um, right.”
Kenzie. I'm Kenzie. . . .
Wait, how did he know?

I walked back into the bar and was surrounded by cries of,
Kenzie!

Everyone. Was. Saying. My. Name.

Or my faux name. Clapping.
Chanting.

“Ken-Zie, Ken-Zie.”

“Give me a hand wishing my friend Kenzie a happy birthday.”

It was Jesse. Leading the crowd in “Happy Birthday,” to me.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

..................................................................

EVEN AS THE LAST CHORDS OF THE SONG ECHOED
through the bar, I knew I'd made a huge mistake. I could see Madison clearly, out near the front, looking like she'd rather be anywhere else. I thought she'd like it, kind of a thank-you for all she'd done in the past two weeks, but halfway through “Happy Birthday,” when she wasn't even smiling, my gut told me
Jess, you just blew it big.

We left the stage as Deck went back on and announced the band for the next eighteen-and-over date. The dance floor had cleared out a bit, but was still thick enough that I had to push my way through. Gray and Tanner disappeared into the crowd. Someone tugged on the collar of my jacket; a girl waved me over to her and her friends.

“You guys were sooooo awesome!”

“Thanks.” I nodded at the four of them, hoping they didn't expect me to say much more than that, because I could barely hear my own thoughts over the techno that was now blaring through the speakers.

“You guys want to hang out?” she asked.

“We're, um, kind of hanging out anyway, here with some friends.”

“Will you guys be back here to play again?” another girl asked.

I shrugged. “Not sure, hope so.”

They let out an enthusiastic “Woo-hoo!” and high-fived. I didn't know what to do. We'd never had fans who were strangers before. It didn't exactly suck.

“Is the guy in the hat seeing anyone?”

“Ha, Tanner?” I shook my head.

The girl who'd waved me over tugged on my collar again and brought her mouth to my ear.

“I think you're hot. Text me when you play here next,” she said, shoving something into my hand. It was a napkin. With her number.

“Cool.” I tucked it into my pocket. “See ya.”

“See ya”? You've got this guitar-god thing down great, Jess.

I found Madison, Wren, and Grayson by the bar.

Madison had her arms crossed, a different person from the beginning of the night. She looked bummed, all the excitement drained out of her. Zach wasn't around. I shouldn't have felt happy about that, but I did.

“So did you hate it?”

“Oh, what, you? No, you guys were great. ‘Happy Birthday'? I just hate being the center of attention for something so corny. I know I probably don't give off that vibe, but, yeah that's me.”

“Ah, I'll file that away for future reference.”

A hatless Tanner popped up behind Grayson and Wren.

“Have any of you seen Diara?”

“You mean Jazz?” Madison said.

“Oh, I kind of like the code-name thing.”

“Isn't she with Logan?” Wren asked.

“No, I saw him leave about half an hour ago. I haven't see her since then.” Madison's brow pinched and she looked at Wren. “I thought she was with you.”

“She was with me until five minutes ago and . . .” Tanner leaned in like he was going to say something but put out his pinkie and thumb and tipped them back toward his mouth to mime drinking.

“No,” we all said together.

“Yeah, had to step outside for some air; we came back in, I told her I'd grab her a water and now I can't find her.”

“Maybe she's in the bathroom.” Wren grabbed Madison's hand and began to walk away. Then a siren sounded, a red light pulsed on the far wall, and people climbed up onto the bar to dance. Everyone was clapping and laughing, even the bartender, so it must have been a regular thing at Whiskey Business.

“Ho-leeey shit. Found her.” We followed Tanner's gaze across the room to the end of the bar. There was Diara/Jazz, standing on top and wearing Tanner's ridonkulous hat. She held hands with a girl who wore a sparkly crown and a veil. They waved their arms up over their heads as they swung their hips side to side along to the music.