Page 8 of From Angel to Rogue (Four Foxes #6)

KATY

He was holding my hand.

Mine.

It felt so warm that the heat of it felt like it was burning my chest.

Today was definitely the most interesting day in my entire life. I didn’t just realize that I had a crush, but I also spoke to him. He agreed to be my friend, and now? I was walking home with him hand in hand.

That never happened to girls like me.

But it wasn’t something to overthink or read between the lines.

We hardly knew each other. Maybe this was something that they commonly did in the cities.

“For you,” he said just as we reached our house. He stuffed the pockets of his hoodie I was wearing with jam pies.

“But this is yours,” I muttered, flushing at the weeks’ worth of jam pies sticking out of my hoodie. Was I that big for him to suggest that I ate this much? But the embarrassing truth was that I did eat that much.

“Keep it,” he mumbled, his eyes sliding over every crevice of my face.

“Okay, I think I should be going back now.” I poked a thumb behind my shoulder.

His gaze softened. “Good night.”

“Good night,” I mumbled before rushing off to my house, feeling like my heart was going to jump out of my chest if I stayed with him any longer.

My heart still felt like I’d run a marathon after I changed into my pajamas and lay like a starfish in the middle of my bed, staring at the glowing red stars I’d stuck on my bedroom ceiling.

It wasn’t something a fourteen-year-old would do. I was growing up and wasn’t a kid anymore, but I liked it. But Mom said it didn’t matter how old we got. We could do anything we liked. Even the things others labeled as immature or childish.

The faint whisper of piano music leaked through my window and a rush swept through my blood.

Warm tears started to trickle out of the corner of my eyes the more the music rose and fell in a soft crescendo. It wasn’t like the music itself was sad; it was bright and beautiful. Rather, it was the person playing it who was making me sad.

Sad because I could never have a boy like him.

What Sabrina said earlier split through my head. Keep trying; he will never see you as more than his fat best friend.

It dug a deep insecurity in me that I felt like I couldn’t fix.

I wasn’t unhealthy. I just liked to eat, and it showed. It wasn’t like that wouldn’t get me any boys, but it wouldn’t get me a boy like Landon.

He seemed like the popular, cool boy, but on the inside, just like I’d thought, he was nice. More than nice that I found my heart melting for him.

My finger brought the collar of his hoodie to my nose. It smelled like him. I didn’t know exactly what the scent was, but I liked it. I liked it a lot.

It had a label named Brunello Cucinelli, and a little search on the internet told me that it cost more than all the pocket money I’d ever received in my entire life. I didn’t know how he could casually tell me to keep something that cost a fortune.

And that thought only made more tears fall out of my eyes. It felt silly for me to think like this, but more than a plain small-town girl, what else could I offer to a boy like Landon?

That night, I ate the entirety of all the jam pies, crying like a stupid girl.

Like I had lost something before it could even be mine.

The following morning, I woke feeling a lot better, my eyes trailing straight to my closed curtains.

I had made up my mind; a boy like Landon could only be a crush to me. I wasn’t allowed to imagine or fantasize more than that.

When I walked to the kitchen, the breakfast table was full. Looked like the boys stayed over last night, which meant that they were going to be practicing the whole day today.

“Morning, sleepyhead.” Matty greeted me with a hug, followed by Emmie and Mikey who both nodded morning while they scarfed down the syrupy buttermilk pancakes that Mom freshly made for them.

“Morning, guys,” I muttered, taking my seat as my stomach growled. Even after all those jam pies and dinner last night, I was still hungry.

After polishing off our plates, the boys and I descended to our makeshift garage, which was already loaded with equipment. They alternated between our space and Emmie’s—however it struck their mood.

I liked hanging out with them while they practiced. It was like I was listening to a live version of my favorite playlist. I bobbed my head, busy casting on my first row of garter stitches, when the boys stopped abruptly.

The zap of Emmie’s last guitar note hung in the air like an electrifying current.

Frowning, I looked up, and my world stilled.

Landon stood by our garage door with the bright sun shining behind him. He had a cool, casual expression on his face as he regarded the boys. “I was told you guys needed an extra band member.”

“Really?” Emmie cocked his thick raven brow, his blue eyes squinting. “Says who?”

In sheer panic, I threw my yarn and needles on the other side of the couch and jumped to my feet just as Landon’s eyes met mine. “Her,” he simply said.

“Yes, it was me,” I announced.

My eyes volleyed between him and the boys. “Matty, you told me you needed another member. Landon here just moved next door yesterday, and I heard him playing. He was good, more than good, so I asked if he could join you guys,” I rambled.

Emmie slowly nodded. “Okay, we do need someone on the rhythm. Let’s see what you got.” Emmie took charge as the lead. He waved a hand to Landon to come in while Mikey mumbled a hello, and Matty regarded us with his usual grim expression.

“Cool,” Landon mumbled, sauntering in like he owned the place and pulled out the lone acoustic that was leaning against the wall. “May I?” he asked, eyeing Emmie.

“Go ahead,” Emmie replied.

Landon eased down on a wooden stool and tweaked the tuner on the guitar for a couple of minutes before he gestured to the boys. Matty and Mikey both frowned at Emmie, but he pointed for them to start.

And soon, one of their familiar songs filled the garage as Matty’s drums created a steady beat, Mikey’s bass notes rooting the music while Emmie’s powerful voice crooned through the microphones.

I held my breath as I watched Landon belting a tune that laced through the song like perfection.

Like he had been practicing his whole life for this.

I thought he only played the piano, but I thought wrong.

The skepticism on the boys’ faces changed into an excited one as they all merged into one like they were meant to do this.

Almost like they were born to do this.

Just like that, I spent the entire first day of summer break watching them in awe.

If the boys’ music was incredible before, they were only more spectacular now.

I didn’t even know Landon’s music was the element they needed in their songs until now, and I don’t think I could ever go back to listening to them without him.

He completed them.

Like he was the missing piece that brought them together.

After a couple of songs, they even went back to his house and brought his keyboard and started to practice with it. The music only got more beautiful.

I sat there on the lone futon, gawking at his mad skills, and Landon’s eyes were always on me. This wasn’t doing anything to curb my crush. In fact, everything he was doing only escalated it.

And I had no clue what I was going to do.

The boys seemed to love him and took him into their fold to the point that by the end of the day, they were laughing and talking with him like he was their long-lost best friend.

I hate that boys could become friends so easily, without even trying so hard. I wished I could make friends like that. Without planning, or changing, or trying to find something common.

I didn’t even know how the time passed, but it was already sundown when the boys were winding down. While the three padded out of the garage, Landon lingered by my side.

“Thanks for inviting me. I had a great time,” Landon said, weaving a hand through his dripping wet hair.

“I’m glad. And I should thank you for coming over. I thought you weren’t interested so I wasn’t expecting you to come this morning,” I replied.

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “I had nothing much to do.”

“Oh, okay,” I said like a mundane fool because I didn’t know what else to say.

Multidimensional, I wasn’t that.

I was as one-dimensional and as simple as a girl could be.

I wasn’t interesting. I didn’t have any mind-blowing thoughts, my humor and sarcasm fell flat, and my conversations involved topics that others often started.

I was more of a follower than a leader.

And I preferred to stay that way.

I chose my battles, kept my head down, and let my brother defend my honor if needed.

My only hobby was knitting, a hobby that most people considered boring.

And I didn’t mind being boring because I was a simple girl.

But then boys like Landon didn’t like simple, boring girls, did they?

Watching him today was a mistake—it only made my longing more intense.

That night, a different idea popped into my head.

One that could either work wonders or go down south.

I knew that Landon wouldn’t like a girl like me, so what if I became her?

What if I became the girl worthy of him instead?

Staring at my discarded yarn ball, I decided then and there that my summer was going to be so much different from the sweater I planned to knit.

I was going to become a version of Katy Evans who didn’t have to hide and feel insecure for who she was. Instead, she was going to wear fake skin and learn to be like those cool, popular girls that she was jealous of.

Maybe then she could be his equal.