Read Online Heartstrings by Hadley Danes - Free Book Online Page B

understand.
    I walk back out to meet Slade, doing a little twirl so he
can see what I’ve put together. He smiles appreciatively. “Safe,” he says, “But
on point.”
    “A little safety never hurt anyone,” I tell him, planting my
hands on my hips.
    “But too much can kill you,” he says, “Spiritually, anyway.”
    “What, do you moonlight as a philosopher or something?” I
ask.
    “All musicians do,” he says, “All the good ones, anyway. Now
let’s go.”
    He leads me across the street to a sleek black sports car.
It’s far more understated than I would have guessed, given his level of fame.
But I’m starting to think that there’s a lot about Slade that I simply don’t
understand yet. There are sure to be plenty more surprises waiting for me down
the line. I catch myself thinking about the possibility of Slade and I having a
future, but I very carefully remind myself that this is probably a one-night
thing. He’s probably just amused by me, wants to keep me around as a novelty
for a night. Come tomorrow, I’ll be spending my day off on my own once more.
But right now, I’m going to try my best to just live in the moment, and not
worry so much about what’s going to happen when I wake up in the morning. I try
to channel my inner Penny, who never seems to be the least concerned about the
implications of anything. But there’s only so much progress I can make in one
day. 
    I slide into the car as Slade starts the engine. We peel
away from my house and head for the highway. I watch as my humble little
starter home fades away in the distance. It seemed so little when Slade stood
before it. I hope that my life doesn’t seem small to him, or unimportant.
    “Will your entourage be annoyed that you’re bringing a
nobody along for the show?” I ask.
    “You’re not a nobody,” Slade says, a scowl pulling at the
ends of his lips. “And you don’t have to put yourself down for my benefit. What
you do with your life actually matters, Julia. And if any asshole roadie or
whatever tries to tell you that what we do is better or something, you have my
permission to punch him in the eye. The world could do without rock stars, but
it couldn’t do without people like you.”
    “Say it again, stud,” I smile.
    “I mean it,” he says, “People build musicians and bands up
into gods or something, but we’re just people who get to do something
ridiculous for a living.”
    “I promise not to let anyone talk down to me,” I tell him,
“But you don’t have to remind me to do that. I don’t take well to people who
are too self important for their own good.”
    “I know you don’t,” he said, “You’ve already knocked me down
more pegs than I can count.”
    “You deserved it every time,” I told him.
    “Fair enough,” he said.
    We lapsed into silence as Slade pulled onto the highway. His
car sailed over the bridge into New Jersey, his home state. Even though we
weren’t speaking for the moment, the silence that hung between us was wasn’t
uncomfortable. As I turned to look out the window, I felt the fingers of his
free hand close around mine on the arm rest between us. I couldn’t breathe
right while he was touching me. I tried to keep myself calm, taking deep
breaths and reminding myself the best I could that this was OK, that it was
actually happening, that it wasn’t all just a dream. I relished his firm grip,
the warmth of his hand in mine, and smiled out into the quickly lightening sky
beyond the window.
    In no time at all, we were coasting through South Jersey. We
seemed to be on a never ending strip of car dealerships, gentlemen’s clubs, and
oddly enough, exotic bird stores.
    “Your state is weird,” I mutter, leaning towards him cozily.
    “It’s about to get weirder,” he says, flipping on his turn
signal. We swing off the main road, into the parking lot of a broken down pool
hall. The place is absolutely deserted, except for us. Still, Slade turns off
the engine and unfolds