Leaving Amarillo(6)

I twitch my fingers twice in a “gimme” motion and he scoffs at me.

“Jesus Christ, Dix. I won’t smoke around you, okay? This pack cost me six bucks.”

I raise my eyebrows, silently challenging him to keep arguing with me. It’s pointless and his efforts to continue this are futile, which he should know by now.

After a minute-long stare-down, he rolls his eyes toward the sky in exasperation and places the pack in my outstretched palm. I promptly fling it over the side of the building.

“Well now you’re just littering.”

“Better than standing here getting secondhand cancer while watching you take years off your own life.” I glare right back at him, because that’s the thing about Gavin. The thing that infuriates me to no end. He will drop everything to take care of his deadbeat, drug-addicted mother. And if Dallas or I needed a kidney or something, he’d be first in line to donate. But when it comes to taking care of himself? The boy lives like he’s trying to express-lane his own funeral sometimes.

“Aww, would you miss me?”

And just when I’m feeling good and sorry for him, he patronizes and antagonizes me. So sometimes I want to kick him in the shin. But then I’d be the one to drop to my knees and check to make sure he wasn’t hurt. If I actually got on my knees in front of Gavin Garrison, there’s no telling what kind of trouble I’d get into while I was down there. So I resist the urge to kick him for both our sakes.

“Yeah, I’d miss you, Gav,” I answer through gritted teeth. “Because I’d be wondering where that giant pain in my a—”

“Ah, ah, ah. Language, sweet girl. What would your brother say if he heard you out here talking dirty to me?”

His eyes drop to my lips and I can feel what discussing dirty talk is doing to him. It’s doing something to me, too. A couple of somethings.

“Okay,” I relent, stepping even closer. “Tell you what. You keep your mouth clean, and I’ll try to do the same. Deal?”

“Hm, I don’t know. There is something awfully sexy about ugly words coming from such a pretty mouth.”

I can’t help but smirk. “The truth finally comes out. You think I’m sexy.”

“You have no idea what I think.” He winks but his tone is low, a warning. He turns to the side, resting his back and elbows on the ledge so that he’s no longer facing me. I hate that I can’t read his expression. The muscle in his jaw pops and his body is still rigid. He can’t make up his mind about us. We’ve always had something. A connection. But the older we get, the more complicated it becomes.

“Whatever you say, Gav.” I lift one shoulder noncommittally, as if I couldn’t care less. But this close to him, my bravado melts and I’m seconds from becoming a quivering mess and begging him to tell me what he thinks about me. About us. Before my secret desire can get the best of me, I turn to walk back inside the building. But I am me and me is stubborn and I hate being the one to break first. So I turn and give him something to think about.

“Oh, and Gav?”

“Yeah?”

I make eye contact, making sure he hears me, that he feels the full weight of my words. “For the record, I don’t make my decisions based on what my brother would say.”

He cocks his head to the side and crosses both mouthwatering forearms over his chest. “That so?”

Yes. Unlike you.

The words are right there on the tip of my tongue, begging to be released. But I clench my teeth, trapping them inside.

I hold his gaze, fighting to remain grounded instead of tumbling headfirst into a stare that heats my blood hotter every time I see it.

“See you inside,” I say softly before making my escape.

Okay, man. Yeah. Got it. And seriously, thanks. I mean it. There’s anything I can do for you, holler. All right?”

Dallas disconnects the call and his shining blue eyes flicker first to me, where I’m standing applying rosin to my bow, then over to where Gavin has just joined us.

“That was Levi Eaton,” he says without giving either of us time to inquire about the phone call that has him grinning almost maniacally. “His band is backing out of Austin MusicFest. His keyboard player slept with the lead singer’s wife. Needless to say, they’re taking a breather.”

“Nice,” Gavin says with a touch of sarcastic awe in his voice.

“Yeah,” my brother says nodding as the door closes behind him; he looks like he’s announcing lottery winnings. “I mean, not that the dude nailed the guy’s wife. But that means there’s performance space available at the festival.”

Austin MusicFest is a five-day music festival on Sixth Street, second in size only to South by Southwest. It doesn’t pay much, but the exposure alone is worth more than we’d make in a year. Maybe even more than that.

We’ve signed up to be considered every year since we started playing seriously. But so far we haven’t been able to get onto the lineup.

“So you think we can just show up and pretend to be Levi’s band?” I set the rosin aside and join in the conversation.

“No.” Dallas laughs as if I’ve said something funny. “We’re in. As us. Levi even gave us his hotel room. Thank goodness, because otherwise we’d be sleeping in the van all week.”

The air vacates my lungs as if Dallas popped them with his words. Maybe someone heard my rooftop prayer after all.