Read Online Eternal Heat (Firework Girls #3) by J. L. White - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: J. L. White
Ads: Link
Haven’t you ever seen The Godfather?
Erik: No.
Me: We really need to get you up to speed.
Even though I’m still pretty shaken by my encounter with his father, it’s helping me to keep things light. Besides, I don’t want Erik to think I’m mad at him. He didn’t do anything wrong.
Erik: Something to look forward to. :)
I smile.
Erik: Gotta get ready.
Me: K. Talk to you later.
I spend the evening lounging in the living room with my parents, instead of hanging out in my room like I might normally have done. It’s a pretty uneventful night. My mom’s reading, lifting her head from time to time to watch the news with my dad. I don’t say much, but I’m comforted just being there and letting things feel normal for a while.
I consider talking to my mom about stuff. She’s always been my confidant, but this is different. I don’t want to talk to her about how physical things are getting with Erik. It’s too private. I don’t want to talk about what happened with Erik’s dad, because then I’d have to fess up about how often we’re there alone. Hell, we’re always there alone.
Not for the first time, I think about what it must be like for Erik to be there by himself so much. My parents aren’t necessarily doing anything for me right now, but they’re here . It makes me sad to think how little of that Erik gets.
After dinner, I finally retreat to my room to do the bit of homework I have for history. Sitting cross-legged on my bed, I pull my binder out of my backpack. It’s then that I find a piece of paper I’ve never seen before. It’s an application for Music Fest.
I grab my phone and send off a text: When did you put this in my bag?
He responds immediately: When you went to the bathroom.
Me: Sneaky brat.
Erik: :) Fill it out.
I don’t respond. Part of me knows he’s right about all this. I say I’d love to be a pianist, but how can I do that if I never find the courage to get up on a stage?
Erik: Please .
I still don’t respond. I put down my phone and fiddle with the end of my braid, staring at the application. Maybe I do just need to try it. Even if I don’t do well, it’ll help me get over my fear of playing in public. If that’s all I accomplish, well, that’s something at least. Right?
Erik: For me.
I sigh and grab my phone.
Me: No. But I’ll do it for me.
Chapter 6
Over the next week, Erik and I focus most of our energy on practicing for Music Fest. We cool our jets a bit in the making-out department, and I ask him frequently when his parents will be home to be sure he isn’t forgetting about anything. The last thing either one of us wants is another unpleasant surprise.
But by the time Music Fest rolls around, my bra gets undone with regularity and I’ve forgotten to be nervous about his dad. Instead I’m giving 100% of my nerves to the competition.
“Performance,” Erik corrects me, whenever I refer to it as a competition.
It is a competition, but for new players, like me, the focus is supposed to be on getting experience performing in a setting that’s more formal than teachers’ recitals tend to be. Not that I know anything about that either.
I don’t tell my parents about any of this, for a couple of reasons. One, it’ll just make the whole thing that much more scary. If they don’t know, then it’s not a big deal. It’s almost like playing just for Erik.
At least, that’s what I keep trying to tell myself to get over my nerves.
The second reason I don’t tell them is for less honorable reasons: Erik’s parents will be there. Of course, the one thing they take an interest in without fail is his “music career.” That’s how Erik and his parents talk about it: his music career.
Whereas I’m just a girl who’s screwing around, in the end.
But if my parents go and see Erik, they’ll want to talk to his parents and who knows what will get said. They think I see his folks all the time. They think Erik’s parents must be delightful
Erik: No.
Me: We really need to get you up to speed.
Even though I’m still pretty shaken by my encounter with his father, it’s helping me to keep things light. Besides, I don’t want Erik to think I’m mad at him. He didn’t do anything wrong.
Erik: Something to look forward to. :)
I smile.
Erik: Gotta get ready.
Me: K. Talk to you later.
I spend the evening lounging in the living room with my parents, instead of hanging out in my room like I might normally have done. It’s a pretty uneventful night. My mom’s reading, lifting her head from time to time to watch the news with my dad. I don’t say much, but I’m comforted just being there and letting things feel normal for a while.
I consider talking to my mom about stuff. She’s always been my confidant, but this is different. I don’t want to talk to her about how physical things are getting with Erik. It’s too private. I don’t want to talk about what happened with Erik’s dad, because then I’d have to fess up about how often we’re there alone. Hell, we’re always there alone.
Not for the first time, I think about what it must be like for Erik to be there by himself so much. My parents aren’t necessarily doing anything for me right now, but they’re here . It makes me sad to think how little of that Erik gets.
After dinner, I finally retreat to my room to do the bit of homework I have for history. Sitting cross-legged on my bed, I pull my binder out of my backpack. It’s then that I find a piece of paper I’ve never seen before. It’s an application for Music Fest.
I grab my phone and send off a text: When did you put this in my bag?
He responds immediately: When you went to the bathroom.
Me: Sneaky brat.
Erik: :) Fill it out.
I don’t respond. Part of me knows he’s right about all this. I say I’d love to be a pianist, but how can I do that if I never find the courage to get up on a stage?
Erik: Please .
I still don’t respond. I put down my phone and fiddle with the end of my braid, staring at the application. Maybe I do just need to try it. Even if I don’t do well, it’ll help me get over my fear of playing in public. If that’s all I accomplish, well, that’s something at least. Right?
Erik: For me.
I sigh and grab my phone.
Me: No. But I’ll do it for me.
Chapter 6
Over the next week, Erik and I focus most of our energy on practicing for Music Fest. We cool our jets a bit in the making-out department, and I ask him frequently when his parents will be home to be sure he isn’t forgetting about anything. The last thing either one of us wants is another unpleasant surprise.
But by the time Music Fest rolls around, my bra gets undone with regularity and I’ve forgotten to be nervous about his dad. Instead I’m giving 100% of my nerves to the competition.
“Performance,” Erik corrects me, whenever I refer to it as a competition.
It is a competition, but for new players, like me, the focus is supposed to be on getting experience performing in a setting that’s more formal than teachers’ recitals tend to be. Not that I know anything about that either.
I don’t tell my parents about any of this, for a couple of reasons. One, it’ll just make the whole thing that much more scary. If they don’t know, then it’s not a big deal. It’s almost like playing just for Erik.
At least, that’s what I keep trying to tell myself to get over my nerves.
The second reason I don’t tell them is for less honorable reasons: Erik’s parents will be there. Of course, the one thing they take an interest in without fail is his “music career.” That’s how Erik and his parents talk about it: his music career.
Whereas I’m just a girl who’s screwing around, in the end.
But if my parents go and see Erik, they’ll want to talk to his parents and who knows what will get said. They think I see his folks all the time. They think Erik’s parents must be delightful
Similar Books
