Page 47 of The Music of Us
“Technically, that story’s about a group of four,” Jake pointed out with a frown.
In school, Jake had always excelled at English. I studied him curiously. Did he still like rereading the classics?
Leon, however, did not care for literary schematics. “I was talking about the candy bar,” he replied.
Jake rolled his eyes.
“Well, as nice as an offer as that is, Leon,” I interrupted, “I don’t think fans would be happy to tune into a livestream and see me instead.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Leon said, leaning back on his hands. “I think you’re very musical and inspirational, Luciana.”
I raised an eyebrow, surprised at the flirtatious compliment. I hadn’t expected anything like that from him. Jake shot a decidedly unfriendly look at Leon, which Leon met with an angelic beam.
“Thanks, but it’s Lucy,” I reminded him. “No matter what Jake’s told you.”
“Right,” Leon said. “Lucy. Of course.”
He batted his eyes at me innocently, but I couldn’t help but feel he was up to something.
Suddenly, I heard a gasp, and all three of us turned to see Amber standing in the doorway of the cat room. Her jaw opened, about to let out another understandably excited shriek.
Remembering how Leon asked me not to scream earlier, I turned toward him apprehensively, ready to warn him to be nice to my friend. I didn’t care how famous they were,no onecould be mean to Amber on my watch.
But no such warning was needed. Leon simply smiled.
“I’m caffeinated and fully awake,” he announced, throwing his arms in the air. “Let’s do the screaming thing!”
Chapter Eleven
“My bandmates are my ride or die, I’d do absolutely anything for them. Except for heat tea water in the microwave—that’d be sacrilege. Or willingly watch American football. Or learn Fahrenheit. Oh, or be on the same continent as them if I don’t have to. But I’d take a bullet for those boys without hesitation.”
—Phillip Maan forLAD
The cash register was glitching.
Again.
It had started freezing and not adding up totals before Mom’s accident. She wanted to buy a new one, but, you know, surgery and bills are kind of distracting. I thought maybe it’d be fine until fall, when business would hopefully pick up and she could afford one.
But, no, it was not fine. As of now, the register was frozen and wouldn’t stop showing that the total was $180. A slight problem, since I’d simply been trying to sell a single plain old croissant for$1.80 when it broke, and not, in fact, a croissant handmade by the esteemed owner of a French pâtisserie, encased in gold leaf, and personally flown in from Paris on a private jet.
Which was why I was currently in the cat room, sitting cross-legged under a fake palm tree with Rumple, and searchingCash register not working.
I studied the search results.
How to reboot stalled cash register by yourself, I tried again, before tacking on,fast.
I was two seconds away from also typing inPlease help I’m crashing outwhen I spotted the trending searches.
livie x jake
Jake and his ex? Why were they trending? On instinct, my finger moved down, hovering over the search.
I shared a sidelong glance with Rumple. “Should I?”
Tired of being involved in my questionable life choices, Rumple turned around so his butt was facing me, then went back to sleep.
I ignored this omen and tapped on the search anyway.
