She’s amused. “Your name is Crew Rewey?”
I laugh. “My real name is Christopher, but most people call me Crew. Christopher Rewey is a mouthful, and a teacher in elementary school shortened it to Crewey, then it became Crew. My parents don’t call me that; they call me Chris.” I fidget, knowing I’m rambling and she probably doesn’t give a shit. “Sorry, you probably couldn’t care less.”
“No, it’s actually interesting.” She extends a hand. “Well, Christopher, it’s nice to meet you.”
I take her hand in mine, and more lyrics bombard me. I can’t wait to get home and put them to music. I don’t tell her no one calls me Christopher, because I think I like that she would be the only one.
After a few seconds, we realize we’re still holding hands and pull apart at the same time. She blushes, and her tanned skin turns a sexy shade of pink.
“You look lost,” I repeat, nodding to the schedule in her hand. “That was the last class of the day, you know.”
“I know, but I only got here fifth period. I don’t even know where my locker is. I wanted to wait until tomorrow, but my mom insisted I start right away. I missed a week of school during the move.”
I look at her schedule and note her locker number. “Why don’t you tell me where you’re from while I walk you to your locker?”
“Okay,” she says, looking more than a little relieved. “I haven’t had a chance to meet anyone. You are literally the first person to talk to me other than teachers.”
“Sweet.” I clear my throat. “I mean, I’m sure plenty of people will talk to you. Come on.” I motion down the hall. “Your locker is down there. Looks like you got stuck in the ninth-grade hallway. That sucks, but those are probably the only ones left.”
I glance over my shoulder and see Liam leaning up against the wall, watching us. He’s waiting for me. He always waits for me; he’s my ride home. I pull out my phone and text him that I’ll see him at practice.
He shakes his head, snickering, and walks away.
“Do you have to go?” Abby says, seeing me on my phone.
“No. Sorry. You were going to tell me where you used to live.”
“San Diego.”
That explains her tan. I’m not sure if it explains her super pleasant demeanor. I’ve never met anyone from California. Not that people on the East Coast aren’t nice, but some of them, a lot of them, are entitled narcissists.
I raise my brows. “That’s a tough break. Why would your parents want to leave there to come to Connecticut?”
“My dad is an interim minister, so we move a lot.”
I’ve only known her for a few minutes, and I’m already bummed she might not be here long. “That sucks. How long do you think you’ll stay?”
“He promised we wouldn’t move again until I graduate.”
I try not to let her see how relieved I am. “What exactly is an interim minister?”
“He fills in until churches can find a permanent one. That usually takes a while. We were in San Diego for two years. Prior to that, we were in Idaho. Before that, Arkansas.”
I point to her locker. “This is yours. I can’t imagine moving around that much.”
She shrugs. “I can’t imagine what it’s like to be in one place. It must get kind of boring.”
I think of growing up on the same street, with the same friends, doing the same things. “You’re right. It’s boring. But I think things are about to get more exciting.”
She blushes again and fumbles with the lock, then gives up and leans against the wall, watching freshmen students walk by on their way out. “They all look so small. That was us two years ago. Hard to believe, huh? I can’t believe I’m going to be stuck with a bunch of fifteen-year-olds for the rest of the year.”
“I’d be happy to share my locker with you. It’s big enough. I mean, if you want to get out of the ninth-grade hallway.”
“Really?” She looks hopeful. “Are you sure? What if my books smell like perfume? Or worse, BO. How do you know I’m not a colossal slob who leaves junk everywhere? Or maybe I’m a criminal, and I’ll steal all your stuff.” She laughs and my dick gets hard.
Fuck. Now she has to share my locker.
“You want to steal my chem homework, go right ahead, but I have to warn you, you’d be doing yourself a disservice. I’m not exactly a straight-A student. Academics aren’t really my thing.”
“What is your thing, Christopher Rewey?”
Fuck again.
“Music.”
“As in the trombone?”
“As in I’m in a rock band.”
“You play trombone in a rock band?”
I chuckle. “I sing and sometimes play the piano.”
“What’s the band’s name?”
“Naked Whale.”
She looks shocked. “That’s unusual.”
“That’s original. Like our music.” I look down the hall. “So, Abby Evans, what’s it going to be? Sharing a locker with a sub-par student who plays in a rock band, or being stuck with fifteen-year-olds who can’t control their erections?”
She breaks into laughter. I join her.
Her laugh is so sexy, my pants get tight again. I hope she doesn’t realize I might not be any better than those fifteen-year-olds.
“Lead the way,” she says.
I look at her schedule as we go to my locker. “You’re in my English class. It’s right before lunch. That means you’ll have C-lunch, like me. If you want, you can go with me, and I’ll introduce you around.”
“That would be great. I don’t mind new schools much, but if I had to pick one thing I could do without, it’s the first few days of awkwardness when I don’t know anyone.”
“I doubt you’ll have any trouble making friends.”
She snorts. “You’d be surprised.”
A group of girls go by, eyeing Abby with disapproval. “I guess girls can be kind of cliquey. Don’t worry. You’ll be safe with me.”
I hand back her schedule after imprinting it on my mind. I plan on being around her every chance I get.
“Why the name Naked Whale?” she asks.
“You really want to know?”
“I think the reasoning behind a band’s name says a lot about the band.”
“I think you’re right.”
Ten minutes. I’ve known this girl ten minutes, and I think I’m in love. Not that I’d know what that feels like. I’ve gone out with a lot of girls but none I’ve felt an instant connection to, like I do Abby.
“So … the name?”
I’m staring at her and mentally give myself a slap. “Oh, right. Well, when you’re onstage, you’re vulnerable, ripped open for everyone to see. Sometimes it feels like being naked. At the same time, it’s larger than life, you know, like a whale. There you have it. Naked Whale.”
“You’re the one who came up with the name?”
“I guess. Liam and I started it two years ago. He plays guitar. Brandon plays drums, and Jake plays bass. We tossed around some names and that one was mine.”