Tone Deaf(45)

Something brushes against my arm, and I turn to find Jace sitting beside me on the other stool. He’s sitting so close our forearms touch, his tan skin a strange contrast against my pale freckles. His touch is a warm comfort, and as uncertain as I am of him, it feels good.

I’m not hungry anymore. My stomach knots as I stare down at our touching arms, wondering what the hell is going on. Does Jace like me? Well, yeah, if he’s helping me to this extent, he has to like me at least a little. But does he like like me?

Ugh. I’m thinking like a third grader.

Jace rests his hand on my knee. I freeze. Part of me wants to snap at him to back off and make up his mind about how he’s going to treat me. But the other part is too satisfied with his touch to bother pulling away.

Before my instincts can sort out themselves out, Killer slides the plate of pancakes in front of me, and Jace pulls away. I pick up the fork on the side of the plate and start picking at the meal, my appetite gone.

Jace walks to the refrigerator, leaving me alone at the counter. Killer quickly fills his spot, and I’m not sure if I should be relieved or resentful. I settle on relieved. It’s probably a good thing Jace isn’t next to me anymore, because his touch does weird things to me, and I’m getting close to . . .

To what? Falling for him? No, I’m not letting that happen. Jace is a player—a player with a very long, very public track record of breaking hearts—and I’m not going to let myself get swept up in his fleeting touches.

So why can’t I take my eyes off him? I watch as he leans over and grabs a water bottle from the bottom shelf of the fridge. There’s something about the way he moves that’s almost hypnotic. He’s all grace and power, wrapped up in a package of complete nonchalance, like he’s not even trying to look hot. Which he’s not, of course. He has no one to show off for in this room.

Killer nudges me in the side, making me cringe and effectively getting my attention. “So Arrow and I saw you on TV last night,” he offers. “I had no idea you were planning to outdo us in the fame department.”

I raise my eyebrows at Jace, hoping he’ll save me by changing the subject. After all the stress of last night, I have no desire to talk about this anymore. The Amber Alert doesn’t immediately change anything—traveling with Jace is still my safest option, so I’ll just have to keep lying low and staying out of sight.

Jace catches my glance and pins Killer with a glare that would melt me into a puddle of shame. But Killer doesn’t even react, and I get the feeling he’s used to this grumpy side of Jace.

“Now really isn’t the right time to be making jokes, Killer,” Jace says.

Killer rolls his eyes. “You just have no sense of humor.”

Before Jace can retort, Arrow strides into the kitchen. He nods to Jace and Killer, but doesn’t bother acknowledging me. Jace tenses a little, and I wonder if it’s because Arrow is being rude, or because he’s anxious to get out of here before Killer annoys him any more.

Arrow lays his hands on Killer’s shoulders, then leans over and kisses him on the cheek. “Jon’s ready to go,” he says. “You want to take off?”

Killer nods. “Yeah, just one sec,” he says as he pulls out his phone. He quickly types out a message and tilts the screen so only I can read it:

Jace is trying to pretend he has no emotions, which is always a sure sign he’s feeling too many. Sorry he’s being a grump. Just give him some time. He’ll eventually work up the nerve to talk about whatever’s going on between you two.

I give him a grateful smile, and Killer winks before hopping down from the stool. He grabs Arrow’s hand and pulls him away from the kitchen, his lips moving at the speed of light while he plans their trip into the city. As Arrow is tugged along, he looks back and flicks his gaze between Jace and me. His expression tightens with uncertainty, and he says to Jace, “Don’t do anything stupid.”

Jace just rolls his eyes and sticks up his middle finger. Arrow doesn’t get a chance to return the gesture as Killer pulls him away from the room.

As soon as they leave, Jace turns to me and signs, “Sorry. Arrow’s still worried you’re going to get the band in trouble. But he’ll warm up eventually.”

I nod and try not to look too relieved. As awkward and quiet as Jace has been this morning, I was starting to wonder if he was still okay with me traveling with them. Apparently he is, but I’m also guessing that Killer is completely right. Jace isn’t going to open up a discussion about last night unless he absolutely has to.

Jace sighs and rubs at his temples. “And sorry for Killer being insensitive,” he says, although he looks away a little, and I get the feeling he’s not apologizing for just his bandmate. “I swear he’s the dumbest human being to ever get accepted into Mensa.”

I try to hold back a laugh, sure that I read his lips wrong. “Mensa?”

Jace nods. “As ditsy as he acts, Killer is technically genius. Mensa is a high-IQ society he tested into.”

“Yeah, I know what it is. I was—” I snap my mouth shut, cutting off the words about to emerge. Because none of that matters anymore. My life as a musical genius is done, over, finished, kaput. And there’s no going back.

Jace leans against the counter and cocks his head. “You were . . . ?”

I sigh, realizing it’s too late and I’m going to have to give him an answer. “I was in Mensa.”