Almost in a trance, I whispered, “I owe him a lot.” Denny had given me hope. Clinging to that hope now, I made myself smile and return my gaze to Kiera. I could tell she wanted to question me further. Hopefully she didn’t. Shrugging, I acted as casual as I could. “Anyway, I’d do anything for the guy, so when he called and said he needed a place to stay, it was the least I could do.”
“Oh.” She opened her mouth like she wanted to say more, but then she closed it again, giving me space. I sent her a silent thanks for that. I didn’t want her to ask.
Denny came back into the kitchen with snacks from the car—chips and pretzels. After the pair ate their junk food, Kiera called her parents while Denny and I caught up. Tapping his arm, I asked him about the little bit of the show he’d caught last night at Pete’s. “What did you think of the band? Quite a step up from the Washington Wildcats, huh?” That had been the unfortunate name that my band in high school had chosen. They’d thought it oozed school spirit. I’d thought it sucked.
My heart rate actually increased while I waited for Denny’s response. If he hadn’t liked our sound…I’d have to admit, I would be a little disheartened. He smiled though. “Oh yeah, you’ve come a long way since junior prom, mate. You were amazing.”
Pride swelled in my chest, but I pushed it back. I wasn’t the only reason the D-Bags were good. Remembering my old band and that high school dance, my first major gig, made me laugh. “Do you remember Spaz? My…third drummer, I think?”
Denny laughed with me as he nodded. “That guy earned his name…he was nuts. I wonder what he’s doing now…”
Seeing an opportunity to tease him, I tossed out, “Maybe he married Sheri. Do you remember her?”
Flashing a glance at Kiera, Denny murmured, “Yeah…nice girl.”
Laughter overcame me. “Nice girl? She was your one high school hookup, if I remember correctly.”
Denny frowned. “You’re not remembering it correctly. You literally threw her at me at prom, and we spent the night dancing. That was it.”
Memories of being onstage and watching the crowd filtered through my mind. He’d done a bit more than dance with her. It was the only time I’d seen him with a girl while he was here. “Dancing? Is that what they call tonsil hockey in Australia?” Even though they’d only kissed that night, I still felt like I’d successfully gotten him to date. Sort of. You were stubborn as hell, but I won, mate.
Looking over at Kiera again, Denny shook his head. “Are you trying to get me in trouble?” he asked. Before I could answer, his expression smoothed into a smile. “Besides…if I remember correctly…you were the one who hooked up with her. And her twin.”
I shrugged in answer and he laughed. After the levity passed, he shook his head and said, “It always impressed me that you were never nervous onstage. I suppose you’re still not?” Shrugging again, I shook my head. Performing didn’t bother me. I felt more comfortable in the spotlight than I felt being alone. Denny smiled. “It’s just like I told you back then…you’re meant for this life, Kellan. It’s in your blood.”
“Yeah…” I said, feeling uncomfortable.
In the silence, Denny added, “I also remember what your dad said when we got home after prom.”
Denny didn’t repeat what he’d said, and he didn’t need to. I remembered it all too well. After Denny had commended us on our playing, Dad had turned to me and said, “I’ve heard the crap kids listen to these days. A trained goat would probably be considered good music to them.” He’d then proceeded to berate me on my outfit, my hairstyle, and the fact that we were ten minutes past curfew. It had been a monumental night for me, and Dad couldn’t even throw me a bone by giving me one compliment. Story of my life.
Clearing my throat to clear away the memory, I clapped Denny’s shoulder. “In case I never said it, thank you for making that night happen. For making a lot of great nights happen. I owe you more than you know.”
Even though my voice was edged with seriousness, Denny swished his hand at me, like it didn’t matter. “You make too big of a deal out of it. I really didn’t do much.” Yes, you did.
Before I could say that though, Denny moved on to another topic, and our conversation drifted to lighthearted memories. It felt good to revisit them. Sometimes the darker moments had a tendency to overshadow the good ones. And Denny and I had had a lot of good times together.
Once Kiera was off the phone with her family, she and Denny went about settling themselves at my place. I asked Denny if I could give him a hand, but with a cringe he told me, “You’ve done so much for us already, letting us stay here for next to nothing. I wouldn’t feel good about it.” I opened my mouth to argue, but he quickly added, “No worries, mate. We’ve only got a few boxes.”
With a laugh, I clapped him on the shoulder and left him to it. And he was right, of course. The pair of them got all of their boxes to their room in two trips. When they came back downstairs, Denny asked how to get to Pike Place from here. I told him where the market was, and he and Kiera prepared to leave.
“Thanks. See ya later this arvo,” Denny said, grabbing Kiera’s hand.
Kiera smirked at Denny, then turned to me. “That means afternoon.”
I laughed and shook my head. “Yeah, I figured.” Our eyes locked as we smiled at each other, and for a second, I felt trapped. Something stirred in my chest, speeding my heart. I almost felt like I’d gone for a run and hit my stride. I just felt…good…and all I was doing was looking at her. Sharing a moment. Sharing a connection. It was strange, but pleasant.
It took a lot of willpower to toss my hand up in a wave and casually turn around and head toward the kitchen, but I made myself do it. I shouldn’t be having connections with Kiera, no matter how nice it felt. Some pleasures I’d just have to deny myself.
Finding a notebook in the junk drawer of the kitchen, I pulled it out, sat at the table, and started writing down lyrics. Phrases and phrases about kaleidoscope eyes were tumbling through my mind. I thought I could write an entire song about Kiera’s ever-shifting eye color. That would be highly inappropriate though. Maybe I’d change it to another color in the final draft. No. Even as I thought it, I knew I’d never change the color. Can’t change perfect.