Tracks (Rock Bottom) by Sarah Biermann Read Free Book Online

move from my spot.
    He picks out a record and holds it up. "Jimi H endrix. This album is amazing."
    I nod. "My dad has the CD."
    He shakes his head. His messy, dirty blonde hair moves. "No, no. That ruins it. You have to have that on vinyl. The static in the vinyl is magic." He suddenly and gracefully runs up the stairs carrying the Hendrix record, and I hear the soft rock music stop. There’s light movement during the silence, and eventually the new music begins. A guitar, sad and long, crescendos from the speakers.
    Jeremy appears at the top of the stairs, gracefully descending towards me at the bottom. His movement reminds me of a cat. He slinks. Each step he takes down the stairs looks graceful. It reminds me of the old rock-and-roll singers: Mick Jagger or maybe Steven Tyler.
    He walks up to me and stands, once more, three feet in front of me, smiling. I’m relatively sure he stands so close to me because he can somehow detect how it makes my heart race. “Do you hear the static?”
    I must admit, I like the sound of vinyl. It’s almost sexy in a way. “Yes. I like it very much.” His eyes trail up my body again as his face turns serious. He has beautiful, black eyelashes. My cheeks flush red.
    His eyes finally meet mine and, reali zing that I’m blushing, he cocks a smile. He motions with his graceful arm towards the carpeted area in the back of the store. “Let’s sit a while.”
    I nod and follow him onto the gray carpet and sit with him on the floor. He lays himself down on his side, like it was completely natural to him to lay here. I sit straight up with my knees bent, hugging them to me with my arms. I feel vulnerable with him, and I’m still not sure why. Feeling vulnerable really bothers me.
    “So, let’s see. I know you’re in Boston for Law School. You never told me where you were from originally,” he says, peering up at me with his blue eyes and pla ying with a pull on the carpet.
    “I grew up just outside of Philadelphia. My Dad still lives there. Harvard has always been a dream of mine.”
    “What do you parents do?”
    How is this possibly interesting to him? “My Dad’s a college professor.”
    “Mom?” he asks.
    Ouch.
    “…No mom,” I’m able to stammer out. I see pity in his eyes, but thankfully he d oesn’t ask further, sensing I’m uncomfortable.
    He smiles. “I pegged you for a super-rich girl. How on Earth is he affording Harvard?” He adjusts his position on the rug. He stretches his arms behind his head and lies on his back, but turns his face toward me. His chest is super exposed this way, and I can see his abs, so defined and rock hard. I feel a tingling in my groin I haven’t felt in a long time.
    “Uh,” I say, my eyes shooting back to his face. I don’t think he seemed to notice. “He can’t. I’m paying for it.” His eyebrows go up in disbelief. “Sort of. I’m taking out loans. I was able to go to college for free where my Dad teaches, so I’m debt free as of right now. So I figure I’ll get out of school with a normal amount of debt since I didn’t have to pay anything for undergraduate.”
    “It’s a damn lot of debt to pay back as a prosecutor,” Jeremy says. My eyes narrow.
    “Thanks. So encouraging.”
    He laughs. “No, I think it’s good you’re following your dreams no matter what. And hey, you could always meet some rich asshole trust-fund baby at Harvard and marry him. He could foot the bill.”
    The tingling in my groin is o vershadowed by the burning anger building in my stomach again. He sure can play with my emotions unlike anyone ever has before. “Right, because I’m definitely the prostitute type. You really can be an ass sometimes.”
    He laughs so hard I jump a little. He covers his eyes with his left hand. His teeth sparkle in the light. He looks so much like a happy little boy, it’s hard for me to remember I’m mad and not laugh wi th him. “What’s so damn funny?”
    He uncovers his eyes and composes himself. He