Sound Bites: A Rock & Roll Love Story Read Free

line. He looked like someone who would play the part of Jesus in a play. I chuckled to myself, thinking of how much my mother would love him.
    As he got closer, there was a certain intensity about him that almost scared me, like he was withholding some sort of dark secret. His piercing blue eyes found mine and remained there, unwavering. 
    “Did you not see me behind you?” He crouched down and ran his hand over the dent in his front bumper.
    “Obviously not.”
    He tilted his head upwards, his face a pale sheet of white. His eyes were like ice, a cold blue-gray mass of bitter illumination. “Well, next time maybe you should look behind you before backing up.” He spoke softly and evenly, but I could sense an underlying tone of patronization in his voice.
    Without a word, I turned and ducked inside my car to find my registration. I couldn’t believe the nerve of this guy. I had just moved across the country and lost my best friend and boyfriend in one swoop, and this dope was crying over a dent in his bumper.
    I fished my registration out of the glove compartment and gave it to him. He handed me his information in return, which I jotted down on the back of a receipt, the only piece of paper I could find in my mess of a car.
    Dylan Cavallari
    10 Park Place Apt. 18
    Boston, MA 02111
    I stopped writing and tried to figure out if his apartment was on my floor or the floor above me. I wanted to be sure to avoid him at all costs to save myself any future humiliation.
    “California, huh?” Dylan asked, glancing at my license plate. “What’s the matter, they don’t teach you how to drive in Beverly Hills?”
    “Funny,” I said. “Actually, I just graduated from UCLA, but I’m originally from here.”
    After handing me back my registration, I heard him mumble something about women drivers under his breath as he marched back to his van. I studied his hell on wheels contraption – a frightening navy blue monster with tinted windows and dark rain guards that lined the edges – and wondered why he was so upset about it in the first place.
    “Nice child molester van you got there,” I said, attempting a joke. 
    His eyes wandered to the van, gave it a silent appraisal, then found their way back to me. “Thanks for the input,” he said, unsmiling. His quiet confidence was both intimidating and irking at the same time. “For the record, a buddy of mine gave it to me. It’s not something I would’ve necessarily picked out for myself.” He toyed with the silver ring on his right index finger, his gaze now back on the van. “Not that it’s really any of your business.”
    The flames in my cheeks had expanded, and I could feel the heat spreading to my ears, my neck, my chest. After everything I’d been through, the last thing I needed was some pompous ass giving me a hard time, especially when I hadn’t even done anything wrong. Not on purpose anyway.
    Dylan was just about to open his door when he suddenly turned back around to face me, looking intrigued. “So, why’d you move back here, anyway? Cali wasn’t all it’s cracked up to be?”
    “No,” I said, my blank expression mirroring his. “For the record, I moved back after I caught my best friend in bed with my boyfriend.” I started to head back to my car, then stopped and glanced back at him over my shoulder. “N ot that’s it’s any of your business.”
    ***
    I called Beth on the way to Noir to tell her I was running a little behind schedule, thanks to my impeccable driving skills. I ended up on the phone with her the entire drive there because once Beth’s mouth gets going, it stops for no one.
    Beth and I had known each other since grade school, and she was a great person to confide in when you were in the midst of a crisis because she never told you what you wanted to hear. She was gut-wrenchingly, whole heartedly, one-hundred percent honest. Always. I hated her candidness when we were younger because my hormonal, sensitive teenage self didn’t