Love Struck Read online

  Swallowing hard, I take deliberate steps off the stage, keeping my eyes trained on the ground. Before I can reach my table, a guy about my age intercepts me. He has brown hair that falls a little past his ears in a sweep that reminds me of the typical look of the members of boy bands. His eyes are dark and the lines around them crinkle as he smiles at me.

  “Hey, you were pretty great up there,” he says.

  I bite my lip, heat creeping up into my cheeks. “Thanks.”

  “I’m Ryker.” He juts out a hand to mine.

  After swiping my sweaty hand over the thigh of my jeans, I hold my hand out too. “Star.”

  “I like it.” He cocks an eyebrow.

  “I’m Lola,” my friend calls out from where she is seated at our table. “Why don’t you join us, Ryker?” Lola indicates the extra chair at our small table.

  Ryker smiles as he plops down into the chair. “Don’t mind if I do.”

  I slide into the chair opposite him and glance over at Lola. She’s grinning from ear to ear, and I know exactly what she’s thinking. It turns my stomach. I’m so not ready to get back in the dating game. I just got out of a two-year relationship, and by that I mean I got dumped big time by the only boy I’ve ever loved. Honestly, I thought that Spencer was the one. Clearly I was wrong, but the thought of jumping into another relationship right now does not sound appealing.

  Lola nudges me and I glance back over at Ryker. I suppose he’s pretty cute, but I’m not sure he’s really my type. In truth, he looks more like Lola’s type with his trendy outfit and hair style that he clearly put a lot of effort into.

  The next performer starts playing, so Ryker leans toward me. “I’m in a band and we’re looking for a female singer. I think you’d be perfect.”

  This perks my interest. “Like a lead singer?” I’m not sure I’m ready to be the front runner of a band. I could hardly get through open mic night without emptying the contents of my stomach on stage.

  “No, we have a lead singer. We’re looking for kind of a backup singer, I guess. But there would be plenty of opportunities to feature one of your songs if you wanted to,” Ryker explains.

  I shift uncomfortably in my seat. “I don’t know. I’ve never really been in a band before.”

  “Why not? You’re amazing,” Ryker gushes.

  Lola elbows me in the side. “I’ve been telling her that for years.”

  Ryker peers over at Lola and raises his eyebrows. I recognize that look. Pretty much every guy I meet is attracted to Lola. It’s almost impossible not to be. “Smart friend.”

  “You have no idea,” she jokes, running a finger over the rim of her glass.

  “Thanks for the offer, Ryker, but I’m just not sure about it.” I look to Lola for some help. Surely she won’t want me to join a band with a complete stranger. For all I know he could be a serial killer.

  “Why don’t you give us your information and Star can give you a call to discuss it further?” Lola asks.

  Ryker grins, pushing away from the table. “Great. I’ll be right back.”

  I glare at Lola, who just shrugs her shoulders in response.

  “I’m not joining his band,” I hiss over the loud music blaring from onstage.

  “Why not?” Lola runs a long fingernail through her shiny hair.

  “I don’t know anything about the guy. I don’t even know the name of his band. What if he doesn’t even have a band?” Panic chokes me at the thought.

  Lola just laughs and waves away my words with a graceful flick of her wrist. “Did you see the guy? He screams ‘boy band’. But finding out if his story is legit will be easy enough.”

  I have no idea what she’s talking about, but Ryker reappears before I can ask her. He shoves a piece of paper at me. I glance down and see a phone number and address scrawled on it. “Whose address is this?”

  “Our lead singer,” Ryker says. “We practice in his parents’ garage.”

  Seriously? I am so not showing up at some stranger’s house. This is getting even more suspicious. I throw Lola a cautionary look, and she grimaces back. Finally she’s on my side.

  “We’re practicing tomorrow night at seven. You should come and jam with us.” Ryker rolls his shoulders.

  I open my mouth to tell him no thank you, but I clamp my mouth shut as my gaze takes in the guy walking on the stage. He’s quite possibly the best looking guy I’ve ever seen. Not only that, but he walks with a swagger that causes everyone to stop and take notice. He has a guitar slung over his shoulder. He's wearing skinny jeans, boots and a black short-sleeved shirt that shows off the intricate tattoo that covers one of his arms. His dark hair is short, and when he smiles at the crowd it causes my heart to flip in my chest. He begins playing, and I’m mesmerized. When he opens his mouth to sing, I freeze. His voice is incredible – raspy, yet controlled in a way that most guys can’t master. I’m completely entranced with him.

  “Who is he?” I breathe, mostly to myself, but Ryker must hear me because he turns in my direction.

  “That’s Beckett. He’s the lead singer in our band. That’s why it’s called Beckett. He has a bit of an ego.” Ryker chuckles lightly before sitting back in his chair.

  I exhale and stare up at the stage. This guy is the leader of the band Ryker wants me to join? I sit still during the remainder of Beckett’s song, unable to tear my eyes away from him. When he finishes, the crowd erupts into clapping and I turn to Ryker with a smile.

  “I’ll be there tomorrow night,” I say, my mind made up.

  Last night I was so certain about this. Of course I think that had everything to do with seeing Beckett up on stage. I've never been so taken with someone at first glance. However, now as I pull up in front of a complete stranger's house I'm having second thoughts. The house is nice and clean with its blue trim and white shuttered windows, and the lawn is well manicured. But that does little to quell my nerves. I've watched enough crime dramas to know that even serial killers live in pretty houses in nice neighborhoods. Besides, this is just Beckett's parents' house. I have no idea what all the guys in the band are like, and that's who I'll be with, and in the garage no less.

  "Hey, you gonna stand out here all day?" Ryker walks toward me, his hands shoved into his pockets.

  I jump back, wondering where he came from. "Um, no, I just um...you know...wanted to make sure it was the right house. Which I now see that it is."

  Ryker flashes me an amused smile and lightly taps me on the arm. "Come on. I'll introduce you to Beckett."

  Just the sound of his name causes my pulse to race. Taking a deep breath, I follow behind Ryker. He ambles over to a box built into the house directly next to the garage. After punching in a few numbers on it, the garage door opens loudly. Inside I can see instruments set up - there's a drum set, a keyboard and guitars resting on stands strewn about. Just as I step inside, a door to the house pops open and Beckett walks through it clutching a bottle of water. I've never wanted to be an inanimate object before, but taking in the way his fingers curl around the sweating bottle I feel a sense of jealousy.

  "Hey, Ryker." Beckett nods his head in Ryker's direction as the door slams shut behind him. "The other guys are inside getting a drink. They'll be out in a minute."

  I shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Beckett hasn't even acknowledged my presence, and last I checked I wasn't invisible. It bothers me, and for a minute I wonder if this was a mistake.

  "Hey, Beckett." Ryker pats my arm. "This is the girl I was telling you about. The one from last night's open mic night."

  Beckett glances over at me with a bored expression that makes my stomach knot. "Yeah, I missed your song, but Ryker hasn't been able to stop talking about it." He steps close to me, and my breath hitches in my throat. "I'm Beckett."

  "Star."

  Beckett lets out a harsh laugh that startles me. "A little pretentious, don't you think?"

  "Excuse me?"

  "I just think artists should stick to their real names, that's
all."

  His words are like a punch to the gut. I glance over at Ryker who gives me a resigned shrug. I wonder if Beckett's always this much of a jerk. "Star is my real name." When I notice the skeptical look on Beckett's face, I add, "My dad's an astronomer. My parents met at a planetarium, and he proposed under the stars. My brother's name is Galileo. It's sort of a theme in our family."I place my hand on my hip in a challenge. "If I had known I'd be interrogated I would have brought my birth certificate."

  Beckett sighs. "I've clearly hit a nerve. It just seemed cliche, that's all."

  What? No apology? I'm stunned by his lack of remorse.

  Two more guys shove through the door and bound into the garage, talking and laughing loudly. Their voices echo and bounce around me. When their gazes land on me, I have the sudden urge to run away. This whole thing was a bad idea.

  "So, you gonna show us what you've got, Star?" Beckett raises an eyebrow at me.

  I smile, wanting nothing more than to wipe that smug look off of his face. Maybe once he hears me play he will take me more seriously. "I'd love to." I lift my chin and head over to the keyboard. The rest of the band is completely quiet as they watch me. I ignore the insistent banging of my heart in my chest as I sit at the keyboard. After running my moist palms down the thigh of my jeans, I reach up and place my hands on the slick keys. When I peer up, I catch sight of Ryker and he gives me an encouraging nod. I'm not sure what his story is, but I'm grateful to have at least one person on my side. The other two guys look on warily, and Beckett crosses his arms over his chest, the same bored expression cloaking his face.

  I inhale sharply and press down on the keys. Closing my eyes, I open my mouth and allow the song to carry me along. After I sing one verse and chorus, I force my eyelids to open and I slide my fingers back down into my lap. I bite my lip and wait for some response. The silence is deafening.

  Ryker grins broadly. "See, didn't I tell you she was amazing, Beckett?"

  "Yeah, she's not bad." Beckett shrugs.

  The air leaves me and I feel deflated. Not bad? I seriously do not need to stay here and be insulted by this egomaniac any longer. I'm just about to push away from the keyboard and stalk out of the garage when Beckett swaggers over to me and shoves a piece of paper in my hand.

  "Now let's see how well you harmonize." He glances around the room. "You guys stay out for this. This is just going to be me and Star."

  I feel dizzy as I snatch the paper from his hand. The thought of singing with him is enough to keep my butt planted on the seat. Remembering the raspy, rich tone from the night before makes me feel giddy. He slings the guitar over his shoulder, and it catches on his shirt lifting it slightly to reveal his naval and the top of his boxers that creep above his sagging jeans. I avert my gaze and feel my face warm.

  He looks up at me, his dark eyes piercing mine. "We'll just run the chorus. You can play if you want to, but if you just want to sing that's fine too."

  I nod, glancing down at the paper and taking in the chords and lyrics. Reaching up, I touch the keys. Beckett strums his guitar and I watch him press his lips up to the microphone. It makes me want to take back my desire to be the water bottle. Clearly the mic would be a better choice. When he opens his mouth to sing, I shake away the inappropriate thoughts and focus on the music.

  The harmony is simple enough, and as I listen to our voices blend together beautifully a warm feeling swirls in my stomach. I can tell that the other guys hear it too, because they nudge each other and exchange smiles and eyebrow raises.

  You’re just one more thing I can’t have

  Standing just outside my grasp

  But it doesn’t really matter

  Because good things never last

  When we finish, I peer up at Beckett feeling pleased about the performance.

  "I'm sorry." Beckett frowns at me, and my stomach sinks. "I'm just not sure if this is gonna work out. But thanks for stopping by."

  I struggle to stand up, my legs rubbery. As I push away from the keyboard with shaky fingers, my knees soften and I fear I'll fall over. I feel like an idiot; like I've made a complete fool of myself. Without saying a word, I pick up my purse, stalk out of the garage and race to my car.

  "Wait! Star!" Ryker calls out, his footsteps pounding behind me.

  I whip around. Ryker jogs in my direction. From over his shoulder I can see the other band members watching from the open garage. Well, everyone except for Beckett. He's kneeling on the ground, fidgeting with a string on his guitar.

  "Why did you even invite me here?" I ask angrily. "Clearly Beckett isn't interested in having a backup singer."

  "Look, I'm reallly sorry about how Beckett acted in there." Ryker runs a hand over his perfectly styled hair.

  I soften a little at his words. He's not the person I'm mad at anyway. "It's not your fault. Thanks for giving me the opportunity to try out." I unlock the door to my car and reach for the handle.

  "Just give it time. I know Beckett will come around."

  I shake my head. "No, I don't think that's going to happen."

  "We've been talking about how badly we need another singer for awhile, and everyone thought you did a great job."

  I snort. "Well, everyone except for Beckett, and he is the lead singer and the band is named after him. So, I think it's a safe bet that you're new backup singer won't be me." I tug open the door and slide inside. "See ya later, Ryker." Before he can stop me, I slam the door shut and turn on the engine.

  Ryker gives me a sad wave, and turns away. As I pull away from the curb I see him walking back to the garage with sagging shoulders. Feeling eyes on me, I gaze into the garage and see Beckett staring directly into my eyes. I shiver from the intensity of his gaze. The look he gives me causes my heart to arrest. He looks like he's sad to see me go, but I know that's not possible. He's the one who practically threw me out. Facing forward, I force myself to just forget about the whole thing. Sure Beckett is hot, but he's a total jerk. Nothing is ever going to happen between us. In fact, I hope I never even see him again. Angry, I press harder on the gas and tear down the street. I'm grateful that I don't have to drive far before the campus comes into view.

  I turn the corner and head toward the parking lot, anger still simmering through my veins. After parking in my usual spot, I turn off the car and bolt out into the cold night. I fling my purse over my shoulder and hug myself as I run toward the dorms, my heels clicking on the pavement.

  When I step inside my dorm room I find Lola sitting cross legged on her bed, an open notebook in her lap. She's bent over it scrawling in it with a black pen. Her head jerks up when I slam the door closed. She pushes her hair out of her face, and smiles. "So, are you officially a member of Beckett?"

  I shake my head, too mad to speak. Flinging my purse on my bed, I slump down onto it as well. The mattress slumps beneath my weight.

  "What happened?" Lola slides the notebook off her lap and sits forward, allowing her legs to dangle off the side of the bed. She's wearing sweat pants and a t-shirt but she still looks stylish somehow.

  I groan in frustration, running a hand over my face. "Beckett happened."

  "Uh-oh." Lola purses her shiny red lips. "Was sexy rocker boy scared you're gonna steal his spotlight?"

  "What?" I crease my forehead in confusion.

  "Oh, come on. I saw the guy. He thinks he's God's gift to music. I'm sure once he heard how super talented you are he got scared. He doesn't need his backup singer to upstage him."

  As sweet as Lola's words are, they don't ring true. "No, trust me, he didn't seem very impressed with me."

  "I'm still going with my theory."

  "That's why I love you so much." I smile. "You should have seen how rude he was. How can someone that hot outside be so ugly on the inside?"

  "Seriously?" Lola's dark eyes bug out. "When it comes to guys, it's the hot ones I'm wary of. They're usually the biggest jerks."

  "Yeah, I guess." I sigh, scooting back on my bed and pulling my bent le
gs up closer to my body. "I was just hoping Beckett would be different. Besides, it was kind of fun tonight when we sang together. It would have been nice to make it a regular thing."

  "What about Ryker?" Lola asks.

  "What about him?"

  She shrugs. "Well, I mean, he's cute, and he seemed really nice."

  Noticing the slight flush of her cheeks, I cock an eyebrow. "Lola, are you crushing on Ryker?"

  "That depends." She leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees.

  "On what?"

  "On how you feel about him?"

  I swat away her words. "No, go for him. I'm not attracted to Ryker. I mean, he seems like a nice guy, but he's not really my type."

  "Not like Beckett, huh?"

  My chest tightens when she says his name. I remember how sexy he looked when he sang, and it turns my stomach. "I'm not into Beckett either." When I catch Lola raising her eyebrows at me I add, "At least, not anymore."

  "If you say so." Lola flashes me a wicked grin.

  "I’m not." I stand up, feeling defensive. "He was arrogant and rude tonight. If I ever see him again it'll be too soon."

  "Okay, I believe you." Lola throws up her palms. "But you can't let him stop you from pursuing your music. There's got to be another band you can join."

  I roll my eyes, heading toward my dresser. "That's my Lola. Always meddling." I yank open the top drawer and snatch out my fuzzy pajama top and pants.

  "I'm serious."

  "I didn't even really want to join a band." I whirl around, clutching the clothes to my chest.

  "But you just said that it was fun."

  I lean my back against the dresser. "It was." My mind flies back to those few blissful moments when Beckett and I were singing together. It was a rush, and the truth is, I'd give anything to experience it again.

  "Then what's the issue? You're a musician, aren't you?"

  I nod, biting my lip. "Yeah. I guess if it's meant to be it'll happen at some point." My stomach sinks when I'm reminded that it won't be with Beckett. I'm not sure I want to be in any other band. Even though I can't stand Beckett, he is super talented, and it would have been amazing to be part of his band. I try not to let disappointment overwhelm me at the thought. In fact, I try not to think about tonight at all. The whole thing is too depressing and humiliating to relive, even in my mind.