CHAPTER 9
LENNON
“How come you’re not eating your burger?” Phoenix questions around a mouthful of the one he’s currently stuffing his face with.
Because it’s the equivalent of taking a giant dump in front of you.
We stopped at a fast-food place on the way to Storm’s and despite me telling him I didn’t want anything, he ordered me a burger with the works anyway.
He said it was the least he could do for getting Mrs. Herman to agree to let him use the pen.
“I’m not really hungry,” I lie.
I’m so famished my stomach is legitimately growling for once. I talked to Mrs. Herman during my lunch period and by the time I finally made it to the cafeteria, the bell rang.
“We’ve been in school all day.” A drop of ketchup drips down his chiseled jaw and holy hell, I’ve never had the urge to lick something so bad in my life. “There’s no way you’re not hungry.”
“I’m really not,” I fib again, only this time my stomach betrays me because it growls…loudly.
Giving me a look that says—I told you so, Phoenix picks up the burger on the makeshift crate table in front of us. “Eat the fucking burger, Lennon.”
I take it, but have second thoughts as I unwrap it because this is a big deal.
Everyone knows food is what makes you fat, so it goes without saying that when a heavy person eats in front of those who aren’t, they’re being judged.
As if we’re expected to eat salads and veggies only.
Because we no longer deserve to indulge and enjoy food since we abused it and let ourselves go.
Thoroughly annoyed, Phoenix places his half-eaten burger down.
“You’re not skinny.”
I. Want. To. Die.
“But you’re human,” he continues, much to my embarrassment. “And humans need to eat when they’re hungry. So, either pick up that burger, or I’m taking you home. Because at least I know you won’t starve yourself there.”
I’m torn between wanting to run right out that door and wanting to call him an asshole for being so blunt.
However, there’s something to be said about him seeing me for exactly who I am…and not judging me for it.
I take a small bite. “Happy?”
He picks up his burger. “Almost. Eat some more.”
I’m desperate to change the subject, so I scan my brain for another topic as I take another bite. I almost choke when I realize. Phoenix never mentioned it, but it’s kind of important.
“What’s your band name?”
His lips twitch as he finishes his food. “Sharp Objects.”
“That’s…” Oddly perfect. “How did you come up with that?”
Blue eyes pierce mine. “Storm and I…we have a tendency to hurt people…cut them with our words and actions. So, it fits.” He wipes his hands with a napkin. “That and a sharp note is one you can’t help but pay attention to.”
“Because it’s a higher pitch,” I whisper. “Special.”
Just like he is.
“Exactly.” His gaze drops to the now half-eaten burger I placed down while he was talking. “You gonna finish that?”
Normally I would not only finish it, I’d chase it with two more.
Even though I’m five foot two and two hundred and thirty pounds…I can’t seem to find the off switch when it comes to food.
I eat so much because I’m trying to fill a void.
Because it gives me a false sense of happiness…even though it always turns to shame afterward.
But that’s not the case right now. Even though mentally, I’m dying to finish the rest. Physically, I’m satisfied.
“No. I’m actually full.”
I start to wrap the remaining burger back up, but Phoenix takes it. “In that case, more for me.”
Rolling my eyes, I laugh. I thought my appetite was insatiable, but it has nothing on his.
Only he has the advantage of having a fast metabolism because he’s long and lean.
Flawless.
I feel him studying me intently as he polishes off the rest of my food. “What’s the deal with that notebook you were writing in before?”
I shift uncomfortably. I feel like I could tell Phoenix anything at this point, but what’s in there is private.
Plus, the latest song I’m writing is about him.
“It’s nothing. I just doodle stuff down sometimes.”
That only seems to interest him more. “What kind of stuff?”
My palms begin sweating, so I wipe them on my jeans. “Nothing. It’s not a big deal.”
I wish he’d take the hint and drop it.
But he doesn’t.
“If it’s no big deal, then tell me.”
Jesus. He’s like a dog trying to dig up a bone buried six feet underground.
“Would you stop?” I lash out with way more hostility than necessary. “It’s none of your damn business.”
Visibly insulted, he runs a hand through his hair. “Fuck me for asking.”
It’s obvious I offended him, and I feel terrible. He was only trying to ask me about something he saw, and not only did I not answer him, I bit his head off.
I’m about to apologize, but then it dawns on me that there’s also something I’ve been dying to know about him. Perhaps we could trade secrets.
“I’ll tell you what’s in my notebook if you tell me how you knew where I lived.”
Grabbing a pack of cigarettes off the crate, he brings one to his mouth. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him smoking is a surefire way to ruin his amazing voice, but then he says, “I did some landscaping work for your neighbor, Mrs. Palma, last summer and I saw you outside.”
“Oh.”
I’m happy he finally told me, but he’s definitely getting the juicier secret out of this deal.
Here goes nothing. “I kind of…sort of…write songs.”
His expression remains neutral as he lights his cigarette. “You mean like lyrics? Or music?”
“Both.”
He rubs his jaw, dissecting me. “I want to hear them.”
I’d rather swallow nails than sing one of my songs to him, but I’m willing to compromise.
I fish my notebook out of my purse. No way in hell would I ever show him all my songs, but there is one that’s my favorite.
Although it is incredibly personal…and kind of strange.
“Here.” I flip to the page it’s on. “You can read this one.”
I want to kick myself the moment the words leave my mouth.
I’m about to suggest he use the pen I got him, but he takes the notebook from me and closes it.
“I have trouble reading, remember? That includes reading music.”
How is that even possible? “But you play piano.”
I took piano lessons for three years and learning to read music was not only necessary, it was a basic requirement.
He points to his ears. “Because I have these.”
Holy shit. I know musicians who can solely play by ear exist, but it’s usually ones who have been doing it for decades.
Then again, I once heard that some people with learning disabilities are incredibly gifted in other areas.