Don't Kiss the Messenger (Edgelake High School, #1)(64)

“I was in a rush to finish it,” I said. “I couldn’t smooth out all the transitions like I wanted to.”

“I liked the rough transitions,” she said. “They fit.”

Frank’s words came back to me. Was this song really about her? I was about to introduce her to Josh and Frank when Bryn suddenly broke through our circle and nearly fell into me.

“Oh. My. God. You look amazing,” she said, gushing over my suit. She teased her fingers through my hair like a finicky hairdresser. I pulled her hands out of my hair and kissed one of her wrists. Her skin smelled intoxicating, like white chocolate mixed with lavender.

“What did you think?” I asked.

She yawned and leaned her head against my shoulder. “All that classical music almost put me to sleep. How come there are no lyrics in these songs? I don’t get it.”

She let out a nervous giggle.

I turned to Frank and Josh. “This is Bryn,” I said.

CeCe walked away before I could stop her. She disappeared in a line of people heading for the exit sign.

Josh eagerly extended his hand and Bryn shook it. He leaned forward and asked her something about the song, but I was distracted. My eyes were trailing after CeCe, but I didn’t spot her until the moment she disappeared beneath the exit sign. Something inside of me deflated.

I glanced at Frank and he looked after CeCe and back at me. His eyes locked on mine for a second. He smirked before he turned and walked away. He completely registered something, that asshole. I’m sure I’d hear about it later.

Bryn leaned her body teasingly against me. “Let’s go back to your place,” she said. My eyes snapped down to hers. I squeezed her shoulder and before we turned, Josh gave me a heady nod of approval. It was the look of awestruck left on every guy’s face with their first encounter with Bryn. I had forgotten the power of her spell. Or maybe it was starting to wear off.

…

CECE

When I got back to The Church, I found Tuba watching a movie alone in the living room. I sat down and stared at our tree lights, illuminating a fake Norwegian fur, decorated in thrift store ornaments; elves, reindeers, gaudy ornamental balls, and silver tinsel.

I unbuttoned my navy-blue pea coat and looked at the tree, glowing red, orange, green, and blue. We used old-fashioned lights—the giant bulbs that glowed soft and warm. I sat down on the arm of the couch, staring at the tree. It was amazing how lonely Christmas time made me feel. How it was a reminder of what I needed in my life—love and family and this sense of peace and joy, which only seemed to magnify how much of these things my life was lacking. Every year, around this time, I had the feeling that I was missing out on something. Suddenly all of those sad Christmas movies started to make sense.

“You need to tell him, CeCe.”

I looked over at Tuba. I forgot she was sitting there. “Tell who, what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me. Tell Emmett you love him.”

I blew out a sigh. Denial wrapped its tight, controlling arms around me and squeezed. “He wrote that song for Bryn.”

“What was it like?” she asked.

“It was complicated and unpredictable and a little melancholy.”

“That doesn’t sound like Bryn,” she said.

I shrugged my shoulders in reply.

“You’re brilliant in every other facet of your life. Why are you being so clueless right now?”



The next morning, Bryn came over. Her dress and hair were rumpled. She wore a lack of sleep better than most girls wore their best makeover. I was sitting next to the tree, sipping my second cup of coffee. I was playing a Christmas playlist—David Bowie’s voice filled the room. The front door creaked open and Bryn poked her head around it.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey.” She shut the door and walked in.

“What’s with the face?” Not that a frown wasn’t alluring on her full lips. She managed to look beautiful under distress.

“We got in a fight last night.”

“Who?”

“Me and Emmett. We got in a fight. About you.”

I groaned. Why was I becoming every fighting motive these days?

“Why was he mad?”

“It wasn’t him, CeCe, it was me. We started talking about his recital and of course he wanted to have this deep talk about what I thought of it and I barely listened at the show. I was buying shoes!” she huffed. “So I told him I wasn’t that into classical music because it puts me to sleep.”

I couldn’t believe it. Didn’t Bryn realize it was so much more than that? That he wrote that song for her? That she inspired it?

Bryn kept talking. “Then he asked why I even bothered coming to the recital and I said because you wanted to go. That seemed to really irritate him.”

“So then what happened?” I asked.

Bryn’s phone buzzed and she slid it out of her pocket and looked at the screen. Her face immediately lit up.

“Is it Emmett?” I asked.

She shook her head. “It’s Prentice. He wants to know if we want to come over for a Jurassic Park marathon.” She started to text him back as she talked. “They’re all hung-over, I guess, so—”

I pulled her phone down so she would look at me.

“Bryn, focus. Last night. Emmett? What happened?”