How to Seduce a Band Geek Page 4

  “Hey kids,” Dad says, leaning his large body on the wall. “Think we can cut it short tonight? Or keep it down? I’m beat.”

  Zoe and I nod, but it’s Zak who speaks up. “Uh, actually, I better get running.”

  Levi yawns. “Yeah, me too. School tomorrow.” Then he winks at me, and I wish I knew what it meant because I end up snort-giggling again. Holy fumble.

  Zoe and Zak get up, and Zak is shaking and shooting kind of weird glances at Dad. I want to laugh over it, but then Levi stretches. Oh wow. My mind doesn’t care about what the crap Zak is doing, because Levi’s polo rises enough for me to catch his stomach. Bare stomach! He’s got a little hair on it, and it’s dark, but I can see shadow lines from whatever muscle he’s got there. I might keel over any minute.

  He stands and extends his hand to me, like I need help off the couch. I wonder if he knew his sexy muscles made my limbs the consistency of gummy worms. There’s a static shock that zips between our hands when our skin touches, and we both jolt back and chuckle. He shakes out his hand and offers me his other one.

  When I get to my feet, I’m almost right up against his chest. Oh, to be there would be like experiencing Disneyland for the first time.

  But he takes a step back, ripping my amusement park ticket right from my fingers.

  We walk the boys to the door, and I expect another uncomfortable juicy goodbye from my sister and her boyfriend, but Zak lingers behind, and mumbles something like, “I gotta ask your dad a question.” Then he babbles off about some weird car problem or whatever. I lose interest when Levi gives Zoe a hug and then scratches his neck before giving me one too.

  Omigosh. I catch him taking a whiff of my hair. My cheeks have gotten their workout today. I may not be able to smile for weeks after tonight.

  “See you tomorrow,” he says, smiling and slipping on his shoes. I watch his cute butt all the way to his scooter.

  Zoe’s giving me this huge grin when I shut the door, and I automatically go, “What?” even though I’m pretty sure I know what she’s thinking.

  She shrugs. “Nothing.”

  We turn around and Zak’s wringing his hands together in the foyer, watching my Dad as he digs through our fridge. Zak’s doing this bizarre breathing thing, and when he catches us looking, he tries to laugh it off and jumps into the kitchen.

  “Mr. Livingston…uh, sir? I know you just got in, but could I ask you something?”

  Dad straightens and takes a swig of Diet Coke before he answers. “Sure.”

  “Uh…” Zak looks at Zoe, then drops his voice. “Privately? Maybe outside?”

  Dad laughs and throws an arm around Zak, who’s instantly swallowed by my dad’s bulk. “Come on, kid.”

  They walk past us, Zak looking like he’s going to barf everything he’s ever eaten and Dad giving me a smile like he always does when he sees his hand-me-downs go to good—and modest—use. He’s not a fan of the cutoffs though.

  The second the door closes, I open my mouth to ask Zoe what the heck that was about, but she beats me.

  “You totally like Levi, don’t you?”

  I jerk backward and blink a few times. I know I’m obvious, but I thought she’d be paying more attention to her boyfriend and her dad out on the porch.

  “Uh, yes.” I feel my face redden. “But it’s not like he likes me, so you don’t have to worry or anything.”

  “I’m not.”

  Oh, thanks for the vote of confidence, Zoe! Even if he is your friend, you should at least disagree with me in some way, since I’m your sister.

  She smiles at the glare I give her, which makes me scowl harder.

  “I’m not worried, Sierra, because I think it’d be cool if you guys hit it off.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. But speaking from experience, you don’t always have to ‘dress to impress.’ Levi will like you for who you are.”

  “What if it is who I am?”

  She laughs. “That’s fine, but make sure he knows that. Levi’s not like most guys. He’s better than most guys.”

  MmmHmm.

  She laughs at my blissed out expression and loops her arm through mine. “But, it may not hurt to find something in common. Find something you can do together. Like Zak and I have with… well, everything.”

  I nod. Zoe can be smart sometimes. I hip bump her and then start up the stairs. I thought she’d follow, but she stays in the foyer. She smiles and waves me up the rest of the way, then darts to the front door and presses her ear against it.

  Guess she’s just as curious about Zak and Dad as I am.

  Chapter 5

  I want to be something Levi puts his lips on.

  It’s not until four a.m. that I wake up (from an amazing and kind of raunchy dream about Levi) and realize I never told him about mentoring his sister. Bah, I’m totally lame.

  And I’m also a bad friend because it’s also then that I realize Sydney never called me. I’m wondering if I should’ve called her. So, even though it’s super early, I send a text her way.

  Sierra: Got totes sidetracked last nite. Deets l8r. Plz call asap!

  I snuggle my phone to me in case it buzzes, but it stays silent. Another familiar buzzing goes through my room, and I shoot from my bed and look out my window.

  Does Levi know he’s driving past my house at four in the morning again? Or is he asleep and his body decided it was time for a cruise?

  “Huh.”

  I wait till he rounds the corner before I slither back between the sheets. Still nothing from Sydney, but she’s probably acting like a normal person and sleeping. My eyes fall closed and I replay Levi on his scooter, Levi on my couch, Levi saying my ass is his… until I drift off into raunchy dreams again.

  ***

  The cold shoulder is the suckiest thing in the town of sucksville. I don’t know if Sydney is mad I didn’t call her yesterday, or if she just doesn’t want to talk about it. But I hate being ignored and dodged. And that’s totally what’s happening.

  “It’s not you,” Adam says, sliding a bottle of water across the lunch table at me. When I raise my eyebrows, he points at Sydney standing by the vending machines, picking through her M&Ms.

  I shrug, turning my eyes back to my water bottle. “What do you mean?”

  “She’s mad at me, not you.” He taps the edge of the table with his paperback. “I can sit somewhere else till it blows over if you want.”

  “Don’t be stupid.” I kick the seat out for him, and he gives me an appreciative grin as he sits. “But if Sydney isn’t coming over, I may need you for some much needed girl talk.”

  His face twists, and he lets out a groan. “If it’s about me and her, then I’m not up for that.”

  “We’ll keep it about me.” If Sydney won’t talk to me about whatever the heck is happening, then I don’t want to know. I lean over and dig through my backpack, then pull out a crinkled paper I shoved in there this morning. “So, how would one go about switching their schedule mid-semester?”

  He adjusts his glasses, and leans up to try to get a look at my paper. “This is girl talk?”

  I smile and gesture to Levi, sitting way too far away from me. He’s with his band buddies today, and he’s holding that small black case again. He’s laughing and joking with them, and taking big gulps of his Minute Maid. Oh, I wish I was Minute Maid right now.

  “You want to transfer into senior classes?” Adam snorts and brings my eyes back to him. “Sorry, Sierra. You’re asking for the impossible, unless your grade point average is a 4.0. And even then, it’s tricky.”

  “Not senior classes. Just Band.”

  He stares at me for a second, but I’m straight-faced serious. Zoe said find something in common. Well, I like music, and Levi’s been in the band since he learned how to pick up a drum stick. And when Adam registers my very non-joking face, he bursts out in laughter.

  “You can’t play an instrument to save your life!” he says through his amusement and my cheeks get hotter and hotte
r the more people look our way. “I’m pretty sure you played piano for a week before you gave up. And you made it even less with the flute.”

  I kick him under the table, and he’s still laughing as he rubs his shin.

  “That’s the only other class on his schedule that I can get into, besides Debate. Help?”

  He pushes his glasses up, then sticks his hand out. “Is that a list of both your schedules?”

  I nod. He wiggles his fingers and my cheeks puffer as I set the paper in his hand.

  “Hmm…you have a study hall.”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s your ticket in. It’s the same period as Band, so just tell the guidance counselor you’d like to have your study hall in the band room.”

  “You can do that?”

  He nods, sliding the crumpled list back at me. “A lot of people will do their study halls in Theater or Art or Band because it helps them study. Music, art… sometimes helps people concentrate. The counselors are pretty lenient about it. Worth a shot.”

  I could totally kiss him! But I lean over and hug him instead. His glasses dig into my cheek. “You’re brilliant! Thank you.”

  Now that I’ve got my in, I’m going to make it happen. I shove my paper back in my backpack, slide my chair out, and book it to the guidance offices before the bell rings.

  Someone shouts about how I must be running because I showed an ounce of affection toward a guy, and now I’m freaking out. My cheeks burn, and I slow my pace. People are so stupid. I’m not even allowed to hug one of my friends without getting crap for it.

  There are no students in the guidance offices, so I march straight into Mr. West’s, since he’s in charge of the Ls.

  Seriously, two seconds after explaining what I want, he prints out a paper for the band teacher to let her know I’ll be taking my study hall there, and I’m out in the hallway again before the bell rings.

  That was way too easy. It must be destiny.

  I do a little dance on my way to class. Just one more hour and I’ll be watching Levi play his drums, and maybe he’ll give me a few more of those half smiles.

  ***

  The band room smells like string cheese that’s been in your bag for too long. My nose crinkles as I walk up to the teacher. She’s really short, shorter than me. I feel a little weird towering over her.

  “You can sit over there,” she waves at the bottom of the stadium-like classroom setup.

  “On the floor?”

  “I don’t have any desks in this room. This is Band, not Calligraphy. We create art with our instruments.”

  Geez, someone must’ve laced her Nutri-Grain bar with piss. She shoves the paper I gave her underneath a bunch of music books on her stand and promptly ignores me.

  Shrugging into my jacket I made from Zoe’s old skinny jeans, I head to the piece of floor I’m allowed to study in. No one ever told me how cold band rooms are. Does that help with the acoustics or something? Because seriously, it’s arctic in here. Arctic and smells of old dairy products. Totally opposite of my old study hall in the library, which smelled of coffee and was toasty warm with all the computer equipment in there.

  I’m sure sacrificing a lot of comfort for this guy. Hopefully he’ll see how cute I am for wanting to watch him play his drums every day.

  I pull out my notebook and doodle his name all over the page while I wait for him to walk in the room. The saxophone players are the closest to me, and they’re smack-talking the flutists. I’m stifling my laughter when one of them makes a comment about how Sammy’s (flute chair one) blow form is all screwed up, and she needs practice.

  “How she got first chair is beyond me. She has no embouchure.”

  “And she needs desperate help with her fingering.”

  “Yeah, and Ms. Hamilton wants her to take Levi ‘under her wing.’ Seriously, I can teach him better fingering than she can. And I’m a sax player.”

  “Flutists get special treatment. It’s a bunch of crap.”

  Wait, back it up. They said Levi somewhere in there. My eyes flick up to the three saxophonists, or whatever they’re called. One of the girls is looking straight across the half circle of band players. I follow her gaze to the flutists, and right there in front, is Levi pulling out this teeny tiny stick from the small case he’s been carrying around all day.

  Is that an instrument? It’s like the size of my forearm. Maybe not even that.

  What happened to his drums?

  The bell rings and baton-up-her-butt teacher doesn’t waste any time. “We’re starting with warm-ups, then we’ll play Dave Brubeck. Let’s start with the flutes.”

  “Of course,” the girl sax player says to the skinny guy next to her. They both roll their eyes and lean into their seats.

  I wait for Levi to put his instrument up, but he doesn’t. He’s sitting there with all the other flute people—including Blinky—with his eyes closed as they play their chord progressions… I think that’s what they’re called. Man, I need to study up on my band terms.

  Did he fall asleep? I wouldn’t be surprised since he was at my house past ten then up at four in the morning. But if he was supposed to play, I’m sure Ms. Tight Ass would yell at him.

  The music stops, and the teacher nods in approval while the sax players huff behind her back. “Perfect. As always.” I’ll just trust her on that one, because I wasn’t really paying attention to the music. She twists a little bit, but not a lot. “Levi? Take the piccolo through.”

  Pick a what?

  He brings the stick up to his lips, and every single bone in my body goes through the floor. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone looked over and just saw a pile of mushy skin where I’m sitting. And drool. Yes, I’m pretty sure I’m drooling. It’s a high-pitched little stick he’s got there, but he’s playing it with his eyes closed, fingers a little shaky on the small knobs along the side. And his lips, holy sweet mother of band gods, I never thought I’d see lips move like that. It pulls me into silent fantasies of how those lips would be if they were up against mine. My body rushes with heat. I need an ice cold bucket of water. Bathroom break. But I can’t pluck myself from the floor. And I don’t think I want to.

  He finishes, leaving the room echoing with that last note which was really high. If I could, I’d stand up and clap because holy amazing.

  But as I look around the room with this big love-crazed smile on my face, it looks like I’m the only one who feels that way.

  The teacher clears her throat. “That was good. An improvement from yesterday.” Then she nods at Blinky. There’s this weird silent conversation between the two of them, and Levi slumps in his seat, patting the stick thing against his leg. He rubs his eyes with his thumb and forefinger before blinking them back open. When he does, his gaze locks on me.

  I guess he didn’t realize I was in here, because there’s this look of shock for a brief second, then his face goes so red I can practically feel the heat from way across the room.

  He sends a little wave at me, then his eyes close again. His eyebrows are pushed in, almost as if he’s struggling with a headache.

  I gulp and go back to doodling all over my notebook. Even though I’m supposed to be studying or doing homework or something, I write a list of things I want to learn so I can get closer to Levi—things to maybe ask Brea when I mentor her. I have to find out what that instrument is, and why he traded the drums in for it.

  I also noticed while Levi was playing, he does have a label, I just never saw it till now. He’s definitely passionate about music, and he can play more than one instrument. He’s friendly with everyone, but he tends to float toward the other band players.

  Cliques. As much as I hate them, they are what define us in high school. And as I look around the room, taking in all the instruments and the people who play them, I bite on my bottom lip so my cheeks don’t burst and write one sentence underneath an elaborate doodle of Levi’s name with a bunch of hearts around it.

  How can I seduce a band geek?
>
  Chapter 6

  It’s a good thing I know how to handle bitchy sisters.

  Jameson Middle is the dirtiest school I’ve ever seen. I went to a charter during middle school, and we wore uniforms and the lockers didn’t look like an ad for spray paint.

  Someone covers up an insult with a cough when I adjust my off-the-shoulder tee. I don’t catch it, but when I turn around, one of Kevin’s monkeys does that little kissy face at me and eyes my chest. I tug my shirt up so there’s not much of a cleavage shot and turn back around. I hate that they make me uncomfortable in anything I wear. It’s like they want me to come to school in turtlenecks and sweat pants. Granted, this shirt used to be one of those things.

  “You shouldn’t let them get to you,” Adam whispers in my ear.

  “I’m not,” I lie, then try to pay attention to the middle school principal. I’ve already forgotten his name, but he’s really tall. Like giant. Probably has to duck under door frames.

  Adam bumps into my arm, and I’m about to tell him to forget it, but he was just turning the page in his book and his elbow hit me. He keeps cutting glances down the line at Sydney, and whenever she looks over, he finds the book very interesting and shuffles his feet.

  “That’s it. You’re telling me what the hell happened between you two after this.”

  His mouth pops open. Then closes. Then opens again. I point a disciplining finger at him so he knows I’m not going to drop it. I don’t care if it’s “girl talk” or whatever. They’re probably just being stupid, and I need to give them both a smack upside the head.

  “If you’ll all follow me,” Giant Principal Man says with a wave of his hand, “I’ll take you to meet the eighth graders now.”

  Some ass knocks into Adam so hard his glasses fall off. I snatch them up before someone smashes them to pieces and hand them back to him. His face is burning red. I feel like tackling the random dick and beating his face in. But like I’d have the guts to do that.