There's Something About Sweetie(80)

“Okay,” Pinky said softly, putting her skinny arm around his broad shoulders. “Okay, Elijah.”

They were subdued after that. Ashish caught Samir looking thoughtfully at Elijah a couple of times. He’d have to ask him what that was about. He’d been pretty secretive about it, but Ashish wondered if the look had anything to do with Samir’s plan to reconcile them.

Ashish had been surprised how much Samir had changed since their talk in his room. He’d stopped being such a jerk and was actually pretty cool now. And he and Pinky had even hung out together a couple of times without killing each other, which should probably go in Guinness World Records or something.

His phone buzzed. Fishing it out, Ashish saw a text message from Oliver. This sucks

He typed quickly, Yeah sorry man

Is E upset? Or glad that I left?

He doesn’t want to talk about it so I’d say upset

Good

You don’t mean that

The response came back after a long pause. No I don’t

Still coming to Band Night?

Yeah I’ll be there.

Okay. I’ll give you a ride. The others can ride with E

Thanks man. See you tomorrow

It was like watching Romeo and Juliet—er, Julius—fight. They were meant to be together; why the heck couldn’t they see what the rest of the world saw?

Shaking his head, Ashish pulled up the Flowers2U app and placed an order. He was just slipping his phone back into his pocket when it buzzed again.

Celia: Tomorrow at 9:30?

Ashish took a deep breath. This is it, Ash. This is your chance for closure. Yep

Can’t wait. I miss you

We need to talk

Yes we do, gotta go but I’ll see you then

Ashish set the phone on the table and looked off into the distance. Tomorrow. There’d be a lot to say tomorrow.

“Who was that?” Pinky asked, coming to grab another glass of lemonade.

“The Ghost of Christmas Past,” Ashish said, turning back to his books.




Demonic possession. That was the only explanation. That was the only reason she, Sweetie Nair, would conceivably have signed on for this.

She stood off to the side with Kayla, Suki, and Izzy. The other bands were already there, and Roast Me was buzzing with an excited, suppressed energy. Every chair in the place was full (the owner, Andre, had put in at least three dozen chairs, and people were even standing at the back, coffee cups in their hands, grinning like nothing was wrong—like Sweetie wasn’t just realizing she’d made the worst mistake of her life). She turned to Izzy, her eyes wide, and grasped her friend’s arm.

“I can’t do it,” she said, her heart thumping. Sweat was breaking out on her upper lip. Ew. “I’m sorry, Izzy.” Kayla and Suki, hearing her tone, turned, frowning. “And I’m sorry to all of you. You’re like sisters to me, but even that has a limit. Even blood has a limit. And someone’s going to be bleeding if I have to go up there, okay?” She laughed hysterically and jabbed a thumb at the stage.

Kayla pushed past Izzy and put her strong hands on Sweetie’s shoulders. “Breathe,” she commanded, looking Sweetie straight in the eye. Kayla was wearing black sparkly eyeliner and bright-fuchsia lipstick, with studded leather pants and a glittery top. She looked amazing and totally at home here. Unlike Sweetie. “You’re going to be fine. I promise. You’ve been singing since you were a snotty five-year-old who could barely hold her scissors straight, and you’ve been blowing people away with your voice since just about then.”

Sweetie smoothed her red-and-white polka-dotted dress down. On Kayla’s insistence, she’d worn a black lace tutu underskirt with it, which peeked out the bottom. Now she was afraid it looked like she was trying too hard. “But those people—”

“You look amazing,” Suki said from beside Kayla, reading her thoughts. “I mean, like, totally retro glam chic.” Suki had dyed her hair a pale lavender and wore a long-sleeved sheer black lace top with deep-purple sparkly jeans. She looked like a runway model and didn’t give fashion compliments easily, which instantly made Sweetie feel better.

“Thanks,” she said, smiling. “You guys look gorgeous, too. All of you.” Sweetie gave Izzy a quick squeeze around the waist.

Izzy was dressed in a light-pink floral dress, which she’d paired with combat boots. Her curly blond hair was in two thick braids. “I don’t think I know anyone else who could pull off what you’re wearing,” Sweetie told her friend, and was rewarded by that warm, braces-accented smile she knew almost as well as her own.

Izzy laughed. “I got the idea from Pinterest.”

“Well, it’s freaking fabulous. We’re freaking fabulous.” Sweetie was relaxed now, she realized. She gathered her friends in a group hug. “I love you guys. This is going to be all right, right?”

“Better than—oh,” Suki said, raising an eyebrow. “Incoming hottie, on your six.”

Her friends melted away just as Sweetie turned to see Ashish striding toward her dressed in a button-down green shirt and dark jeans, that cocky smile on his face, his eyes lit up like neon signs. She grinned, feeling her heart leap in her chest. God, he was handsome. The way the shirt strained against his shoulders, the way those jeans hung from slender hips … Okay, eyes up, Sweetie.