A recap of where GOING GREEN left off:
Becker laughed. “This is probably going to sound really lame, but I’m trying to impress a girl.” The entire bar awwwwwed. “But I can’t find her.”
My face caught on fire. Was he…no. He couldn’t be.
“Stella!” he screamed like he was Marlon Brando. Something every adult thought was hilarious. Only this time, it was freaking awesome.
I turned to Conner, his mouth hanging open, his eyes staring toward the stage. Nice. “See you around,” I said. Then I jogged forward into the crowd and toward Becker.
I paused in front of the stage, the room hushing. Becker looked down at me, all rock star like.
“Um…hi,” I said. Oh my God. Hi? I couldn’t be more seductive?
“Hi,” he said, only his came out the right way. I melted a little. Becker put his mouth on the microphone. “I didn’t write this for you,” he murmured. “But I think I could have.”
Wow. Suddenly I could feel the weight of a million stares. Really, it was probably more like twenty-five. But it felt like a million.
The guitarist began strumming and my heart began racing. I braced myself for the most romantic moment of my life. But… my phone vibrated in my pocket. I furrowed my brow. Only one person would call me now. And he just so happened to have legal custody of me.
I wiggled out my cell, trying to be discreet. After all, I was being serenaded. Shit. It totally was my father. If I didn’t answer, he’d freak. Ground me. Take away my phone. I looked up apologetically at Becker. I put the phone to my ear.
“Stella Francis,” (my middle name. Don’t ask) “You have exactly nine minutes and fifty eight seconds to get in this house.”
He hung up. Becker was staring, confused maybe. Confused at how he could go to all this trouble only to watch me answer my phone just before he started singing. I bit on my lip.
“Sorry,” I mouthed.
You see, my father can be a total hard ass when necessary. And the fact that I told him I was going to the library (yes, I know. Totally lame) and he probably realized that the library was not open at midnight, let me know that I was busted. It didn’t help that I stole twenty bucks out of his wallet either. Damn. I had nine minutes and thirty three seconds left.
I turned and ran, catching a bewildered Brandi by the arm as she came out of the bathroom.
“Wait,” she yelled, looking back at the stage. “We haven’t even--”
But we were already dashing past a chuckling Conner as I faintly heard Becker’s voice sing into the microphone. His first line was, “You’re always running away from me.”