Chapter 5

Adelaide

“I can’t believe you invited him to church,” Mandy laughs as she sits down beside me on the couch.

“He was drunk and being disgusting. I had to get him to back off somehow,” I explain.

“Lies,” Renee says as she walks in pulling a tank top over her head.

We just got back from Forsyth where our mother refused to let us out of Sunday lunch. We’re stuffed to the gills, all ready for a nap, but have weekly grocery shopping to get done before we settle in with yoga pants and chick flicks.

“It’s not a lie,” I counter. “He was gross last night, all expectant and forward. Saying he just wants to hang out and get to know me in one breath, then suggesting I wrap my lips around his penis in the next.”

“Last night you said he used the word harmonica,” Mandy clarifies.

“We all know what he meant,” I huff.

“That’s not what I mean,” Renee says as she plops down beside me and scoops my laptop off my lap and places it on hers. “You invited him to church rather than just shooting him down because you’re keeping the option open.”

I don’t answer her, because she’s right…in a way, and I have no interest admitting that. Instead, I watch as she pulls up social media and types in a hashtag with his name.

The page populates and goes on for what seems like forever. His hash-tagged name has been used hundreds, if not thousands of times on this site. The most recent posts, thankfully, are at the top.

I may not have planned to log on and look at all that is Axton Lane in front of my sisters, but I wasn’t above sitting here while Renee did it for me.

“I watched this last night, and I just want you to see it too.” Renee clicks on a video.

His voice, belting out the words of a well-known song, pushes from the small speakers. They don’t give him the justice he deserves. His voice, his presence, demands the acoustics of an arena and countless eyes of a sold out crowd.

“Do you see what I mean?” Renee asks, pointing to the screen.

The video was recorded just to the left of where he was looking, and I know where his eyes were—locked with mine. I felt each and every one of them last night as if his choice of songs were hand-picked for me. It warmed me then, and I can’t deny the heat filling my blood as I watch now.

“He’s enraptured by you,” Mandy whispers, as if speaking too loud will break the spell he has over me.

“He’s a performer,” I counter.

“If it were only about performing, he would be looking around, trying to make each person there feel like he’s singing to them.” I sense Renee’s gaze on the side of my face, but can’t pull my eyes from the dark-haired man on the computer screen. “He only saw you last night.”

I could never believe that. Trusting it would be harmful. To my heart. To my mental health.

I run my finger over the track pad of the mouse and close the video.

“And he only saw someone else three days before.”

I click on another video—one I’ve watched a dozen times, and let myself fantasize in more detail than I ever should’ve allowed.

Axton’s voice channels through the speakers as he looks into the camera with raw emotion. His words vow his devotion, promise his love, his future, and every thought to that person.

“I’m not special to him. He sings like this all the time.”

Both of my sisters remain quiet, and why shouldn’t they? There’s no questioning the way he’s making the person with the cellphone camera feel. I was her last night. It’s awesome in the moment, but confronted with the truth of his philandering, I have no interest in anything involving Axton Lane.

“Fuck him,” Renee chimes in as the video ends. She shrugs her shoulders and scoots the laptop back into my lap.

“Let’s not be hasty,” Mandy says. “You’re not like those other girls. Maybe you can be the one to change him.”

I shake my head. “I don’t have any interest in changing anyone. I’m also not interested in fighting anyone for him. Just the amount of women hanging around, gawking at him and hoping for their turn, is enough to keep me from speaking to him.”

“So bang him then. It’ll be a great story to have when he’s singing on stage at the Super Bowl one day.”

I glare at Renee. “Perfect plan, sis. Let me get right on that.”

“He’s more than willing,” she adds before walking down the hall toward her bedroom. “Can you two grab my list from the grocery store? I have a killer headache and the piano at church made it ten times worse.”

Her door shuts a little harder than necessary.

“I’m surprised she even woke up for church,” Mandy mutters.

“That’s because she hasn’t been to bed yet,” I mutter, closing the lid to my laptop. “She didn’t come strolling in until like seven this morning.”

Her getting home at that hour wasn’t surprising. It was the scowl on her face when she sat beside me as I drank my coffee. I couldn’t sleep after leaving the bonfire, tossing and turning almost all night, the smell of the fields, dirt, and smoke reminding me of him since I’d refused to shower. So I lay in bed, letting the scent torture me until I’d had enough, climbed out of my misery, and headed to the tub.

“Really? She usually doesn’t stay the night with them,” Mandy observes.

Sweeping my eyes over Renee’s still closed bedroom door, I lower my voice. “She hasn’t talked about it, but I get a feeling there’s someone who’s captured her attention, and he’s not as receptive to her as she’d like.”

“Impossible,” Mandy says with a quick shake of her head. “She doesn’t focus on any one person in particular. And she sure as heck wouldn’t keep attempting if he shot her down.”

“Who knows?” I stand from the couch, placing my computer on the coffee table and stretching my back. “Let’s get this grocery shopping done. I didn’t sleep well last night and have plans to turn in very early.”

“It’s like I can’t go anywhere without him being right in my face,” I mutter as we walk into the small grocery store.

I divert my eyes from the flyer letting patrons know Axton Lane will be playing at a local watering hole this coming weekend taped haphazardly in the front window. As if one isn’t enough, there are over a dozen littering the front of the store.

Mandy chuckles at my agitation.

“It’s like the whole dang town is saturated with all things Axton.”

“Just like your panties,” she adds.

I cough out a laugh—not because what she said was funny, but because it’s something our older sister would say.

“Negative,” I grumble, masking my amusement by forcing away my smile and focusing on pulling a shopping cart out of the row just inside the door.

“I can tell you like him.”

Ignoring her, I push past, directing my attention to the display of various crackers as if they’re the most interesting thing I’ve seen all week.

“Triscuits?” I grin, holding up a box. “We can get some of that disgusting can cheese.”

I nod my head quickly in encouragement.

She huffs. “Fine.”

I toss them in the shopping cart and she pulls them right back out.

“I wasn’t agreeing to the crackers and cheese. You said it yourself, it’s disgusting. My ‘fine’ was about Axton.”

“There’s no need to talk about him. He wants to hook up, and I’m not a hook up kind of girl. It’s a non-starter.”

She shakes her head. “Also not what I meant. I just want you to know you can talk to me about him.”

“I know I can,” I tell her, a little hurt she feels like she has to put the offer into words. I’m well aware I can speak with both of my sisters about anything. I’ve never had to worry about them gossiping or running to our parents with sordid details of our discussions.

“But you won’t. You’ll keep it all inside, miserable, questioning every thought until it drives you mad. Exactly like you did when things were going south with Jason.”

I frown at the mention of my high school boyfriend. I can honestly say I hadn’t thought about him in ages. His name on my sister’s lips doesn’t conjure feelings for him, but memories of the situation that left me feeling useless and a little hardened toward boys like Axton.

“I’ve matured since then,” I say.

“You have,” Mandy agrees. “But you also haven’t actively dated anyone.”

I turn down the bread aisle, needing carbs today like I need air. If she’s going to nix the crackers, that’s okay. I can eat rolled up tortillas all evening. I’m perfectly fine either way.

“I date.” She frowns at me. “Sort of. I guess I don’t see the point in trying to build a relationship with someone who’s only going to turn around and try to pressure me into having sex.”

“So, you’re waiting for marriage?” She tries to hide her smile. “Mom and Dad would be so proud.”

I smack her arm with the back of my hand.

“I’m not consciously waiting for marriage. I’m waiting for a man who would be okay with waiting for marriage.”

She laughs, hearty and full of joy. “If you think you’re going to find a man who’s a virgin these days, you’re nuts. You may have luck down at the middle school, and even then it’s a gamble.”

I groan. “Did I say I expected him to be pure?”

“Pure? Really, Addi? I’m not one to pressure like Renee would be right now, but you’re living in a different age than the one our parents raised us to believe we were living in. It’s the end of your third year in college—”

I hold my hand up, halting her rant about the teachings we grew up with.

“Let me use ‘modern terminology’ so you can understand.” I stop the shopping cart. “I don’t care if a guy has banged other chicks. I just don’t want him to pressure me into screwing him. I need him to be okay with the fact that I’m not ready to be one of the chicks he’s banging.”

She tries to keep a straight face, but her nose twitches, eyes growing watery at her effort, and the laugh spills forth anyway.

“Bang?” She laughs again. “Hilarious. You’ve concluded Axton is that type of guy—the one who would put the pressure on your panties?”

I shake my head. “Last weekend, everyone was talking about him leaving the party alone, and just last night, you and Renee were tossing around reasons for it while we drove to the party. Last night, Axton Lane told me to play his guitar and blow on his harmonica. I’m pretty certain he isn’t one to put pressure on anyone.”

“I’m confused.”

“He’s not the type of person to even expect having to ask, Mandy. He has so many women to take care of every sexual whim he may have, waiting for a girl who isn’t ready isn’t something he’s going to bother putting an effort toward.”

I grab a family pack of tortillas and begin pushing the shopping cart farther down the aisle.

“Maybe so,” she agrees. “But just so you know, he went home alone again last night.”

Unable to control my face, I grin wide. Thankfully, my back is still to her and she can’t see just how affected by Axton I really am.