Chapter Four
Kassidy
#2—Eat junk food
“Is that fake cheese?” Sophie’s eyes widen as I sit down on the seat next to hers, a soft pretzel in one hand and a container of bright orange cheese in the other.
I shrug. “This is all they had.” It’s kind of the truth. Once I found out that the snack bar was the only food vendor, I had planned to get a piece of pizza. Unfortunately, they were out of pizza by the time I made it to the front of the line. Nachos and pretzels were the only options. I figured the pretzel was the lesser of two evils. And when the girl at the snack bar asked if I wanted cheese with it, all I could hear was Archer’s deep voice saying the words “nacho cheese.” Before I knew it, I was nodding yes and paying for a pretzel with cheese.
After tearing off a piece of the pretzel, I take a bite and stare up at the stage. A young woman bounces around, singing at the top of her lungs, wearing what appears to be a bikini and knee high boots. “Who’s that?” I ask around a mouthful of food.
“The opening act. I can’t remember her name.”
“Not a fan, huh?”
She shakes her head while I dip a piece of pretzel into the cheese. It oozes off onto my leg before I can stuff it all in my mouth. Reaching down, I wipe it off with my finger and laugh lightly.
“What are you laughing about?” Sophie eyes me curiously.
“Nothing.” I clamp my mouth shut, trying to remain serious. But it’s a losing battle. My mind travels to Archer, his bright blue eyes and strong jawline, and my lips twitch involuntarily at the corners
“Wait a minute.” Turning in her seat, she narrows her eyes. “You’re eating fake cheese, and you’re laughing about nothing. Something happened.” She pauses, her gaze trailing up and down my body. “Was there a cute boy working the snack bar or something?” My face heats up because of how loud she says this. Then again, we’re having to talk loudly to be heard above the music. I’m sure no one else can pick up what we’re saying. Even with the volume of Sophie’s voice I can barely make out her words.
“No, he didn’t work at the snack bar.” I snort.
“But there is a cute guy?” she asks. Averting my gaze, I mutely take another bite of my pretzel. “Oh, my gosh. You totally met a cute guy.”
How does she always know these things? “Are you psychic or something?”
“So, I’m right?” Her mouth gapes open.
“Seriously, you have a gift,” I continue. “Remember when Kate started liking Zander? You knew before anyone.”
“Oh, please. She drooled every time she was in his presence. That was obvious.”
Kate finally snagged Zander, too, but it didn’t last long. She dumped him when she overheard him talking trash about me.
“This is huge.” Sophie’s hand lands on my arm, patting excitedly. “Tell me all about him. Every detail.”
Usually I shy away from conversations like this with Sophie. She’s the boy-crazy one. I’m the level-headed one. But tonight, I sort of feel like the boy-crazy one. I’ve only had two boyfriends in my life, if you could even call them that. Neither of them lasted more than a couple of dates. One bored me to death, and the other came on a little too strong. But Archer’s different. I know I only spoke to him for a few minutes, but there was something there. A spark. A connection. I haven’t felt that with anyone else. It was almost like I had met him before. Like our souls knew each other.
Yeah, I’m definitely not sharing that out loud. It sounds too weird. Too sappy. Too unlike me. Actually, it sounds like something Sophie would say. Oh, man.
I’m about to tell Sophie how I met Archer, when the lights go out and everything gets eerily quiet. It only lasts a second, though. Then the entire room erupts in loud, ear-piercing screams.
“What’s happening?” I yell to Sophie.
“The Playlisters are coming on!” She screams back. Then she’s on her feet with everyone else.
The energy in the room wraps around me like a pair of strong, muscular arms. I stand up, joining Sophie. At this point, I’m too curious not to.
A countdown is happening on the large screen suspended over the stage. When it reaches ten, the crowd starts counting with it.
“9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1!”
Darkness swallows us whole. Then lights flash, the music swelling. From underneath the stage, five guys emerge, lifted on what appear to be circular pods. When all the lights return, I have a good view of the band members. They look about like I thought they would––gelled hair, tight jeans, preppy shirts. But when my gaze rests on the guy in the middle, my breath hitches in my throat.
“Archer?” I breathe, but I immediately know that can’t be right. It’s not him. The hair is different, the outfit is different, and as he starts dancing and singing, I can already tell the mannerisms are different. Leaning in close to Sophie’s ear, I point toward the stage. “Is that Ross Devlin? The one in the middle?”
A surprised smile leaps to her face. “Yeah. How’d you know that?”
“’Cause, I sort of met his lookalike,” I say, now completely understanding why Archer thought I had mistaken him for Ross.
“What?” Her brows furrow.
“The guy I met in the lobby was named Archer, and he looked exactly like that guy.”
“No way.” She clamps her hand over her mouth, her eyes widening further. “Ross and his family are from around here.”
I remember Kate talking all about how the lead singer of the Playlisters came from our little town of Oakhollow. I think it was all over the news, too. But I never pay much attention to that kind of stuff.
“Ross has a twin brother,” Sophie continues. “I’m pretty sure his name’s Archer.”
“Twin brother, huh?” That makes sense. He had said he was here for his brother. Embarrassment burns through me at how disinterested I had acted about the band. But I had no idea his brother was in it. Then again, he almost seemed to enjoy the fact that I wasn’t a big fan. Perhaps he’s not, either. I don’t like everything Sophie’s into.
It must be so strange to have a famous sibling. Being twins probably makes it even weirder. In awe, I return my attention to the band. Ross has a solo right now, and he’s belting it out with all he has. Of course, it’s kind of hard to hear it above all the girls screaming. Is that why Archer acted so odd at first? Do girls throw themselves all over him, thinking he’s his brother? I think Archer’s better looking. Ross is like a caricature. Archer’s the real deal. I’m sure I’m the minority. By the swoony look on my sister’s face, and the collective shrieks around the room, I’d say most girls are crushing on the singer.
But not me. I’m crushing on the brother. The one who’s not in the band.
…
“Told you they were awesome.” Sophie links arms with me as we exit our row. Lowering her head, she bumps her cheek into my shoulder.
“What? I can’t hear you,” I joke. At least, I’m half-joking. I did hear what she said, but my ears are ringing fiercely.
“You loved it. I saw you rockin’ out with everyone else.” She swings her hips back and forth, causing me to move with her.
Despite myself, I giggle. “Okay, you got me. Some of the songs were catchy.”
We scoot out of the way to let a group of girls pass. Their arms are filled with band merchandise—posters, T-shirts, sweatshirts, bags––and they all bear a picture of Ross. My pulse kicks into high gear, and I find myself wondering if Archer will text.
“Are you glad you came?” Sophie asks.
I smile. “Very.” It was so much more fun than I thought it would be.
She tosses me a knowing wink. “I think I know why.”
“He probably won’t even call.”
Sophie freezes. “He asked for your number?”
I nod.
“This is epic.” She squeals. “Ross Devlin’s brother asked for my sister’s phone number.” Her hands travel up to her face, her fingertips running up her cheeks as if she’s an actress in a musical. I glance around, wondering what’s happening. “Oh, my gosh. If you start dating, I might get to meet Ross Devlin. Maybe he’ll even fall in love with me, and we’ll be dating twins.”
I cringe. “Dramatic, much?
She bumps me with her hip. “I like to call it positive thinking.”
If only I could be more like that. “I just don’t want to get my hopes up.”
“I get it,” she says. “But trust me, he never would’ve asked for your number if he wasn’t interested.” Continuing her ascent up the stairs, she teeters on her high heels. “So weird that you dressed like that and you met a guy, and I went to all this trouble for nothing.”
It stings, but she has a point. Sophie took hours getting ready––makeup, hair, sexy outfit. I wore my usual T-shirt and jeans, kept my hair straight, and only bothered with mascara and lip gloss.
It doesn’t take long for us to make it out the front doors. Outside it’s cooled down, and air whisks over my skin, making me shiver. I welcome it, though. It had been stuffy inside.
When we reach the car, Sophie whirls around, her eyes dancing. “When Archer calls you, you should ask for backstage passes to the next concert.”
“No way.”
“Why not? I’m sure he’s used to it.”
Sometimes I wonder if Sophie hears herself speak. “Exactly, and Archer probably hates it.”
“Maybe not.”
Really? “How would you feel if people used you to get to me?”
“Why would they do that?”
“I mean, like if I were famous or something.”
“You? What would you become famous for?”
I groan. “It’s hypothetical, Soph.”
“Try another scenario. This one is too unbelievable.”
“Whatever.” Shaking my head, I laugh lightly. “Can you just unlock the car? It’s freezing out here.”
Sighing, her gaze sweeps the lot. “Fine, but we’re gonna be stuck in the car for a while.” Reaching into her purse, she rifles around for a few seconds before pulling out her keys. “But I guess that’s okay. I’ve got the Playlisters album.”
After Sophie unlocks the doors, I slip inside. While I’m rubbing my palms together to get warm, my phone buzzes inside my pocket. Stiffening, I wonder who it could be. There was a time when I would have known exactly who it was. One person texted me more than anyone else, but not anymore.
I yank out my phone. When my gaze connects with the screen, my stomach bottoms out.