Escaping Perfect by Emma Harrison Read Free Book Online Page B

bathroom, unreliable water heater. Rent is six fifty a month, but I pay three fifty for the bigger room. You have a job?”
    â€œYep.”
    â€œYou smoke?”
    â€œNope.”
    â€œYou like boy bands? Because I can’t live with someone who likes boy bands.”
    â€œUm, no.”
    â€œOkay, then. You’re in,” she said. “Jen left all the furniture, but she took the sheets. You’ll need sheets.”
    â€œOh my gosh, thank you,” I said. “You have no idea—”
    â€œShh!” She held up a hand, a Buzz Lightyear Band-Aid glowing at me in the dark. “He’s coming to the bridge.”
    We looked up at Jasper. The music slowed. He closed his eyes as he got into the emotion of the song, letting his guitar hang as the drummer pulled back and the other two guitarists strummed quietly.
    Man. Jasper was Hot with a capital H .
    â€œSo, Lia, why’d you leave Florida?” Fiona asked.
    It was amazing how fast my throat went dry. I coughed into my hand and couldn’t seem to stop.
    â€œAre you okay? Is she okay?” Britta asked, looking at Fiona.
    â€œSorry,” I croaked. “Tickle in my throat.”
    â€œI’ll get you a drink.” Fiona started to get up, but I grabbed her arm.
    â€œNo. I’ll go.” I was desperate to avoid their questions. I cleared my throat half a dozen times as I stood. “Will they serve me here?” I tried to focus through teary eyes. “I’d love toget us some drinks to celebrate our new living arrangement.”
    As long as they were cheap drinks. And not very high proof. I’d only been drunk once in my life, when my classmate Trevor Thurmonson had smuggled vodka into his dorm room in shampoo bottles. After downing almost an entire Frederic Fekkai bottle myself, I’d spent half the night puking, the other half begging the Tank not to tell my mom, and I still tasted soap whenever I felt even slightly nauseous.
    â€œOh, they’ll serve anyone,” Britta said. “But I only drink water and one hundred percent fruit juice.”
    â€œWould you mind getting me a beer?” Fiona asked.
    â€œI’m on it,” I said, with one last cough into my fist. Beer and water I could handle, both financially and gastro­intestinally.
    As I stood up, the song finally came to a close. Half the crowd was on its feet, and everyone was whistling and applauding. A crowd of girls in tight little dresses shouted Jasper’s name and held out Sharpies and autograph books, like he was some kind of country god and not just participating in an open mic night where literally anyone could perform. The band started to walk offstage as I headed for the bar.
    â€œWell, look-a here!” Jasper shouted into the mic. “I got the standing O I was hoping for.”
    He gestured in my direction, and the spotlight swungaround to blind me. My heart hit the trashed wood floor.
    â€œActually, no. I was just going to the bar,” I said. “Sorry to disappoint.”
    The people at the nearest tables—the ones who could hear me—laughed. Jasper’s smile faltered for half a second, but then the MC came out again and whispered something in Jasper’s ear. Jasper’s grin widened.
    â€œWell, well. Guess what, folks?” he drawled into the mic. “Ryan here’s just informed me that we’ve come to my favorite part of the evening.”
    There were cheers all around, and I felt a slight tingle of apprehension. Probably because Jasper was giving me this totally focused, you are so going down kinda look.
    â€œThat’s right!” Ryan shouted, taking the mic back from Jasper. “It’s time for . . . the Hidden Talent Showcase!” More screams and cheers. Jasper jumped down from the stage and took my hand. Which, yes, gave me goose bumps. “And it looks like we have our first volunteer!”
    â€œHere we go, Red Sox!” Jasper said,