Wish by Alexandra Bullen Read Free Book Online Page B

blond hair flew spastically around his head. It was an impressive performance, equal parts exciting and terrifying, and Olivia’s eyes were glued to every heavy bass-drum thump, every shattered attack of the hi-hat. She’d never seen anybody look so free or alive. It was beautiful.
    Somewhere in her periphery she saw Miles hovering by her elbow and heard him mutter something about another drink. She thought about nodding, but probably didn’t. It wasn’t until the drum solo ended and Graham had belted out another anthem-rowdy chorus, ending in a sweeping clash of cymbals and raucous applause, that Olivia remembered to try breathing again.
    “Thanks for coming,” Graham panted into the mic whenthe whooping shouts and whistles had finally started to fade. “We’re taking a little break, but we’ll be back for the countdown, so don’t anybody move, all right?”
    The crowd responded in happy unison as Graham shoved the mic in their direction before flinging it to the hardwood floor with a muffled thwap , rock-star style.
    Skater/Drummer Boy reached his long, wiry arms up overhead. His soft blue undershirt hiked an inch or so above a crackled leather belt, just enough to expose a section of his waist, the sharp line of muscle cutting down across one hip. Olivia felt the back of her neck getting hot, and she worried that she was actually sweating.
    “So?” Bowie had reappeared at Olivia’s side and was stripping off her sweater, revealing a tiny black tube top, felted in clingy mohair fuzz. “What’d you think?”
    “Do you know where the bathroom is?” Olivia asked. She felt vaguely dizzy, a deafening rhythm in her heart and her head, an anxious flutter at the base of her throat. She needed to run some cold water over her wrists.
    Bowie pointed to where a short line was snaking back around a cast-aside armoire full of expensive-looking figurines and black-and-white photos in frames. Olivia took off through the crowd. As soon as she cleared a cluster of kids knocking back shots by the fireplace, she froze abruptly in place. There he was, waiting at the back of the line, propped up against a thick-framed map of the world.
    It was too late to turn around. She took a deep breath and planted herself beside him. He wasn’t nearly as tall up close, and, sneaking glances of his profile, she spotted a neat little row of tiny round scars, barely hidden underneath a thin layerof stubble at his jaw. Olivia’s heart thumped, and she clenched her hands behind her back.
    “Is this the line for the bathroom?” she asked, and instantly regretted it.
    No, this is just the way we stand, all lined up in a row for no reason. Welcome to California!
    He turned abruptly toward her, shaggy hair falling over his sea green eyes and sticking to the slope of his nose. “Yup.” He nodded with a smile, pushing back at the hair that had fallen, as if to get a better look. His teeth were big and adorably crooked.
    “Cool,” she said. Cool. She glanced at the floor for a trapdoor to fall through, hoping for at least a small fight to break out somewhere across the room. Anything to stop the uncontrollable fountain of lameness that was pouring out of her mouth.
    “I keep seeing you,” he said. “In the courtyard, right? At school?”
    And…now she was a stalker. She hadn’t been in school one week, and already she’d turned into the overdressed girl who stared too long and tried too hard.
    Olivia swallowed and nodded, racking her brain for something officially not-psychotic to say back.
    “I’m Soren,” he went on, extending a hand. “What’s your name?”
    “Olivia,” she answered, taking his hand. It was warm and sweaty and strong. “I’m new.”
    “Yeah, I caught that,” Soren joked, and then, through another heart-wringing grin, he whispered, “Welcome to Hippie High.”
    Olivia squeezed her damp fingers tighter together andharnessed enough courage to steal a glance back up at him. Which was about when she realized that