for the songs he wrote, and he was writing songs for other artists as well. He was apparently gearing up a lot of new things for their third album. When leaks of some of the music they were working on after him hit the web, the reviews were ‘mixed,’ to put it kindly. Without him, they knew Evernight was over, and Jeremy was really, really crushed.” Kate stopped the show and lowered herself down to the carpet, back to her circle of textbooks.
“Can you believe that? All this time I just assumed that Jeremy was really behind those words ‘cause he was making sweet, sweet love to my ears when it was actually Kai,” she said. Kate had both of Jeremy Bunyan’s LPs and also the second Evernight one.
“I read that during my research,” Dylan said, plopping down on the floor across from Kate. She had her own pile of books situated.
“The guy who was vomiting on stage and fighting people wrote those songs. I’m so intrigued,” Kate continued as she went over her study notes. “I have a list of questions I’ll have to insist that you ask. He wrote ‘Moonlight Hour’! Do you know how many times Ryan and I have done it to ‘Moonlight Hour’?”
“No, Katie, ‘cause you never invite me,” Dylan said sarcastically. She tapped the mouse on her MacBook to wake it. “And you want to know more about Mr. Crazy Crazy?”
Kate shrugged and used a remote to turn the music back up. Dylan’s own interest in Kai was piquing more each day. He had settled for essentially singing back up in a band that he held far more power in than anyone had ever known at the time. But maybe he was far too irresponsible to be trusted with leading a band, or maybe he didn’t want it.
“Dee, come here!” Winslow called from her compact kitchen after several minutes. “Need your opinion.” She had been cooking since finals started. It was her way to cope with the stress, and Dylan and Kate were completely incapable of fe nding for themselves outside the dorms, so it worked out for everyone.
Dylan danced her way into the kitchen. Winslow was waiting with a cooking spoon in one hand and her other one just below it to prevent sauce from spilling to the floor. Dylan lowered her lips to it, inhaling the various sharp spices that culminated into a bold flavor.
“Vegetarian chili. Not bad, eh?” Kate was in the process of breaking up with meat, and Dylan and Winslow were skeptical but supportive.
“I didn’t know such things were possible,” Dylan remarked a bit exaggeratedly. “Katie, come here.” Winslow grabbed bowls from the cabinets. “Savor it. This is what you’ll be missing when you’re having an awful time in Maui and wherever you’re jet-setting to with your rock star boyfriend,” Winslow said with a playful scowl. Dylan offered her a sincere pout.
“ Win -nee,” Dylan lilted. “I’ll call you every day.”
“What am I? Chopped liver?” Kate asked as she leaned in the archway between the kitchen and the dining room.
“No, chopped tofu in your case.” Dylan swatted her friend’s butt on the way out to the dining table. As they ate, they recalled incidents from freshman year. Dylan’s ringing cell phone in the living room became her salvation from her own embarrassing retelling of a story. She stared at her cell phone flashing an unknown number. She was undecided about answering, afraid it was one of the marketing calls plaguing students who had signed up with a local sandwich shop’s membership program. She asked her friends if either of them knew what area code “808” was, but the phone had already stopped ringing, and she set it down on the coffee table before returning to her friends.
“No idea,” Winslow said.
“Oh well, hopefully they’ll leave a message,” Dylan said, shrugging as she sat.
Kate did
“Can you believe that? All this time I just assumed that Jeremy was really behind those words ‘cause he was making sweet, sweet love to my ears when it was actually Kai,” she said. Kate had both of Jeremy Bunyan’s LPs and also the second Evernight one.
“I read that during my research,” Dylan said, plopping down on the floor across from Kate. She had her own pile of books situated.
“The guy who was vomiting on stage and fighting people wrote those songs. I’m so intrigued,” Kate continued as she went over her study notes. “I have a list of questions I’ll have to insist that you ask. He wrote ‘Moonlight Hour’! Do you know how many times Ryan and I have done it to ‘Moonlight Hour’?”
“No, Katie, ‘cause you never invite me,” Dylan said sarcastically. She tapped the mouse on her MacBook to wake it. “And you want to know more about Mr. Crazy Crazy?”
Kate shrugged and used a remote to turn the music back up. Dylan’s own interest in Kai was piquing more each day. He had settled for essentially singing back up in a band that he held far more power in than anyone had ever known at the time. But maybe he was far too irresponsible to be trusted with leading a band, or maybe he didn’t want it.
“Dee, come here!” Winslow called from her compact kitchen after several minutes. “Need your opinion.” She had been cooking since finals started. It was her way to cope with the stress, and Dylan and Kate were completely incapable of fe nding for themselves outside the dorms, so it worked out for everyone.
Dylan danced her way into the kitchen. Winslow was waiting with a cooking spoon in one hand and her other one just below it to prevent sauce from spilling to the floor. Dylan lowered her lips to it, inhaling the various sharp spices that culminated into a bold flavor.
“Vegetarian chili. Not bad, eh?” Kate was in the process of breaking up with meat, and Dylan and Winslow were skeptical but supportive.
“I didn’t know such things were possible,” Dylan remarked a bit exaggeratedly. “Katie, come here.” Winslow grabbed bowls from the cabinets. “Savor it. This is what you’ll be missing when you’re having an awful time in Maui and wherever you’re jet-setting to with your rock star boyfriend,” Winslow said with a playful scowl. Dylan offered her a sincere pout.
“ Win -nee,” Dylan lilted. “I’ll call you every day.”
“What am I? Chopped liver?” Kate asked as she leaned in the archway between the kitchen and the dining room.
“No, chopped tofu in your case.” Dylan swatted her friend’s butt on the way out to the dining table. As they ate, they recalled incidents from freshman year. Dylan’s ringing cell phone in the living room became her salvation from her own embarrassing retelling of a story. She stared at her cell phone flashing an unknown number. She was undecided about answering, afraid it was one of the marketing calls plaguing students who had signed up with a local sandwich shop’s membership program. She asked her friends if either of them knew what area code “808” was, but the phone had already stopped ringing, and she set it down on the coffee table before returning to her friends.
“No idea,” Winslow said.
“Oh well, hopefully they’ll leave a message,” Dylan said, shrugging as she sat.
Kate did
Similar Books
