The Album: Book One by Ashley Pullo Read Free Book Online

squat next to her and slap the jewel case against my palm. “Here, play this.”
    Her head snaps to meet mine. I’m nearly knocked forward by the intense saturation of her eyes. They’re the color of the ocean – not really blue, but definitely not green – soothing yet playful. Her red lips curl into a feline smile as she looks me over, spending a little extra time studying my mouth. The freckles along her face highlight her round cheek bones and studded nose ring. I follow the curve of her neck to a small tattoo of a compass rose hidden under her braid. Shit, she’s definitely Dylan’s girlfriend.
    “Ah, the Toadies – I’ve heard of them.” She opens the case and lifts the CD. “You don’t like my current playlist?”
    “I do,” I say as I position myself against the wall. I stretch out my legs, brushing them against her ass and practically closing us off in our own private party.
    “Do I know you?” She asks while removing the Beastie Boys and placing Rubberneck in the player. She shifts her body slightly to face me, but all I notice is her Nirvana t-shirt, stretched tightly across her huge tits.
    “Not yet.” I lean over her to adjust the bass, touching her thigh in the process.
    Her cheeks blush as she tilts her head. “I – I like them. Not a lot of lyrics.”
    “They opened for the Chili Peppers in Buffalo – they’re pretty intense. The bassist is a chick,” I add.
    “No shit?” She smiles. “What’s this song about?”
    I’ve heard different theories about the story behind Possum Kingdom – ranging from a serial killer, to vampires hiding around a lake in Texas – but at its core, it’s a song of seduction. “I don’t know – a lake, a boathouse, forbidden sex? But that’s what’s cool about music, misinterpretations make better stories.”
    “Hmm, I’ve never thought of it that way.”
    Of course she hasn’t – I just told her.
    “Lyrics are screwed up all the time. Think about It’s the End of the World – everyone knows the chorus and LEONARD BERNSTEIN, but the verses are whatever you perceive them to be at that moment.”
    She laughs adorably and leans into me. “That’s true! My cousin and I are always arguing over the words.”
    “But it doesn’t make you like R.E.M. any less.” I place my hand on my leg to discreetly touch her arm. She leans in closer, her body welcoming my flirtation. “And this song, Possum Kingdom , the words become immediately irrelevant on that first guitar riff – and the tension continues to build with the pounding bass. Added to the fact that the bassist is a chick . . . this song is fucking hot.”
    She raises her eyebrows slightly – then smiles.
    “Do you live around here? I can’t believe we’ve never hung out.”
    “Nah, New York. My buddies and I drove up for the party.”
    “But isn’t it like the Fourth or something?” She looks confused and intrigued, but I never answer more than what’s necessary.
    “It’s the Fourth,” I reply.
    She inches closer, bracing herself on her hand. My knee jerks toward her arm, brushing against her soft skin and giving her goose bumps.
    “Are you in university?”
    “I’m heading to Penn State to play soccer.”
    Her smile changes to a flirtatious smirk as her hand skims the bottom of my shorts. “You don’t ask a lot of questions. Usually guys ask a million stupid questions because they think girls like to talk,” she banters.
    I don’t need to ask her anything – whatever I haven’t figured out will be a genuine surprise. And for once, I’d like to be wrong.
    “I only have one.”
    “Then ask it,” she says.
    “What else is pierced?”
    And that did it.
    She parts her lips to speak, but then moves her hand to her stomach. I keep my eyes locked on hers as she slightly lifts her shirt. But I don’t look – I know it’s a belly button ring, but I focus on her face. Eighteen-year-old boys do not possess self-control, and what I’m doing right now, is blowing her