Read Online The Sound of Us by Ashley Poston - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Ashley Poston
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summer reading. Do you think I can get away with pretending to have mono for a week?”
“I doubt they’d buy it.”
“True. I’ll try hemorrhoids instead. Have fun without me, loser!” She makes a kissing noise over the phone and hangs up.
I melt down into the hard plastic chair and can’t help but wonder if Cas just doesn’t like coffee with
me
.
Chapter Nine
A knock raps against the door. At first, I think it’s the TV, but Nick Lively is doing a special on Jason Dallas’s new BLACKHEARTED tour and how it’s taking over Roman Holiday’s gig at the Garden. With his swoony black guyliner and tricky crooked smile, I figure he’s already sold the place out.
When the knock comes again, I finally roll off the couch.
“Coming…” I mutter, annoyed, and reach up on my tiptoes to peek through the peephole. It’s dark, which means some asshole has their finger over the eye. It’s probably Chuck, since he’s as mature as a two-year old. I twist open the lock and poke my head outside. “You know, there’s a reason God invented peepho—
oh.
”
Orange hair. Suspenders.
The Kinks
t-shirt, a pair of cut-off jeans, and blazingly red Vans. Definitely not Chuck. He gives a timid wave. “Uh, hi.”
“You.”
“Yep...me.” He hesitates in the doorway, pulling at his earlobe. “Listen, I just want to talk to you about last night...”
My hand grips the doorknob tightly, because I sort of figured this would happen. He’s famous, and I’m just a girl from rural North Carolina. Girls like me are never with guys like him—not that I ever entertained the idea...outside of my dreams, anyway. “Yeah, no, it’s fine. Don’t worry, my lips are sealed. In fact, I really don’t even go
on
the internet, so you are
super
safe—”
He hesitates, running his thumbs up and down his suspenders. “That’s not what I meant.”
“It’s not like anything happened, you know,” I add dismissively. “We’re fine. It’s fine.” But it’s not fine, because my heart is hammering in my ribcage at the
sight
of him.
His eyes widen. “No, that’s definitely not what I meant. Last night was—it wasn’t...”
I wave it off. “Really, don’t worry about it. We’re cool. I had...fun last night.”
He nods, rubbing the back of his neck, a little defeated. “Yeah, okay. Okay. So, that’s really all...”
“Yeah, it’s fine.”
“Okay.” Slowly, he steps back, and then another step, pulling his hands into his pockets to try and make himself shrink into the scenery. He did that last night, too, when we were walking home, as if he wanted to be invisible. He must be awfully lonely, even with Boaz.
I push my hair behind my ear in frustration. “What are you doing for dinner?” He stops in his tracks, and that prompts me to go on. “I—I mean, not like a date or anything, but company? My parents have gone to some stupid dinner and left me here so...”
It’s almost as though he’s relieved when he returns to my door. “Yeah?”
“I mean, if you’d like a friend.”
An amused look charms his face. “I’d like a friend and dessert too, if you’re not too busy.”
I mock-gasp. “And why would you think I’d be busy?”
“Oh, you know,” he retorts, “going to dinner with an AWOL rock star and all.”
“
Pop
star,” I correct.
He looks positively stricken. “What, do I need to grow my hair out? Get more tattoos? Sing about sex, drugs, and more sex?”
“It might help,” I reply jokingly. “But fine, an AWOL
rock
star.”
“Ah, music to my ears.” Then he rakes his emerald gaze down the length of my body, and I blush. I knew I should’ve gotten dressed before four. “You have a very charming fashion sense. Is that vintage Stones?”
I nod sheepishly. “And my pajamas. Give me thirty?” I ask.
He flicks his wrist toward himself to check his non-existent watch. “You have ten minutes.”
I don’t move.
“Seven…”
“I thought you said ten!”
“Nine,
“I doubt they’d buy it.”
“True. I’ll try hemorrhoids instead. Have fun without me, loser!” She makes a kissing noise over the phone and hangs up.
I melt down into the hard plastic chair and can’t help but wonder if Cas just doesn’t like coffee with
me
.
Chapter Nine
A knock raps against the door. At first, I think it’s the TV, but Nick Lively is doing a special on Jason Dallas’s new BLACKHEARTED tour and how it’s taking over Roman Holiday’s gig at the Garden. With his swoony black guyliner and tricky crooked smile, I figure he’s already sold the place out.
When the knock comes again, I finally roll off the couch.
“Coming…” I mutter, annoyed, and reach up on my tiptoes to peek through the peephole. It’s dark, which means some asshole has their finger over the eye. It’s probably Chuck, since he’s as mature as a two-year old. I twist open the lock and poke my head outside. “You know, there’s a reason God invented peepho—
oh.
”
Orange hair. Suspenders.
The Kinks
t-shirt, a pair of cut-off jeans, and blazingly red Vans. Definitely not Chuck. He gives a timid wave. “Uh, hi.”
“You.”
“Yep...me.” He hesitates in the doorway, pulling at his earlobe. “Listen, I just want to talk to you about last night...”
My hand grips the doorknob tightly, because I sort of figured this would happen. He’s famous, and I’m just a girl from rural North Carolina. Girls like me are never with guys like him—not that I ever entertained the idea...outside of my dreams, anyway. “Yeah, no, it’s fine. Don’t worry, my lips are sealed. In fact, I really don’t even go
on
the internet, so you are
super
safe—”
He hesitates, running his thumbs up and down his suspenders. “That’s not what I meant.”
“It’s not like anything happened, you know,” I add dismissively. “We’re fine. It’s fine.” But it’s not fine, because my heart is hammering in my ribcage at the
sight
of him.
His eyes widen. “No, that’s definitely not what I meant. Last night was—it wasn’t...”
I wave it off. “Really, don’t worry about it. We’re cool. I had...fun last night.”
He nods, rubbing the back of his neck, a little defeated. “Yeah, okay. Okay. So, that’s really all...”
“Yeah, it’s fine.”
“Okay.” Slowly, he steps back, and then another step, pulling his hands into his pockets to try and make himself shrink into the scenery. He did that last night, too, when we were walking home, as if he wanted to be invisible. He must be awfully lonely, even with Boaz.
I push my hair behind my ear in frustration. “What are you doing for dinner?” He stops in his tracks, and that prompts me to go on. “I—I mean, not like a date or anything, but company? My parents have gone to some stupid dinner and left me here so...”
It’s almost as though he’s relieved when he returns to my door. “Yeah?”
“I mean, if you’d like a friend.”
An amused look charms his face. “I’d like a friend and dessert too, if you’re not too busy.”
I mock-gasp. “And why would you think I’d be busy?”
“Oh, you know,” he retorts, “going to dinner with an AWOL rock star and all.”
“
Pop
star,” I correct.
He looks positively stricken. “What, do I need to grow my hair out? Get more tattoos? Sing about sex, drugs, and more sex?”
“It might help,” I reply jokingly. “But fine, an AWOL
rock
star.”
“Ah, music to my ears.” Then he rakes his emerald gaze down the length of my body, and I blush. I knew I should’ve gotten dressed before four. “You have a very charming fashion sense. Is that vintage Stones?”
I nod sheepishly. “And my pajamas. Give me thirty?” I ask.
He flicks his wrist toward himself to check his non-existent watch. “You have ten minutes.”
I don’t move.
“Seven…”
“I thought you said ten!”
“Nine,
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