Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 124135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 621(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 621(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
I shrugged. It was his life, and his killer hangover that’d smack him square in the eyes tomorrow. I glanced at my Jack. Who was I kidding? I was planning on joining him.
Easton nudged my arm. He flicked his chin at the front of the podium. Kacey, the brunette girl from outside, was looking up at me. She smiled, and I nodded my head at her. As I scanned the crowd, I saw people laughing in groups, couples kissing, dancing. I never had any of that in my life. I had my music. That was it. My stomach caved in sudden sadness, catching me off guard. I immediately threw the feeling away.
I wouldn’t let it in.
Focusing back on my music, I threw in some beats to the mix, adding depth. Bass drums bouncing so hard they shook the building. Easton leaned over me to the mic. I never spoke. My music did the talking for me. Never even had anyone singing over my tunes. Just beats and the rhythm. “Is that what you call losing it?” Easton shouted, and the crowd screamed.
He jumped onto the table holding my decks. I shook my head, smirking at the walking ego that was Easton Farraday. “I said…” He paused, then screamed, “Is that what you call fucking losing it?”
I slammed them with a bass beat so hard and fast it controlled them, brought them to their knees. Bodies bumped and smashed into each other as they moved. As they jumped and drank and some practically shagged on the floor. And I was lost to it. Like always, up on this podium, I was gone. Taken from the darkness inside my head and thrust into this. This numb nirvana.
I closed my eyes to pull myself from Easton’s lights. My bones vibrated with the bass I was pushing. The sound sailed through my ears and injected itself straight into my veins. Bursts of reds and yellows danced behind my closed eyelids. I snapped my eyes open, only to see Easton stumbling around the podium. His arm was around a girl’s neck as she practically ate his mouth. He backed her away until they were on the dance floor and heading outside.
Hours passed in the blink of an eye. I played until I was done with my mixes. Bryce, the prick from before, was taking over before I’d even got off the podium. I took my Jack and snuck outside; the crowd were too off their faces to even notice the DJs had switched.
I’d completely ruined them.
I hit the outside air and found a quiet spot beside one of the barn’s walls. I slumped to the ground and closed my eyes. The sound of laughing made me open them again.
This place was nothing like uni back in London. Jefferson Young was tiny, and everyone knew each other. My uni in London was massive. It was easy to get lost in the crowd. I’d lived alone. No dorms. Just a studio flat near the campus. No friends.
It was a different world out here. And I knew that having barely seen any of it.
For the past few days I’d barely left my room, sleeping off my jet lag and mixing my tracks for tonight. Easton tried to get me to hang with him and his mates, but I didn’t. I wasn’t exactly a social person. I was better on my own.
I closed my eyes again, just as I felt a warm body sit beside me. It was Kacey, a Corona in her hand. “You wiped?”
“Knackered,” I said and heard her small laugh. Probably at my accent. Easton had been doing the same thing all week.
“You were amazing.” I looked over to her, and she dipped her head away. “You must feel a million miles away from home, huh? Jefferson’s not exactly London. Not that I’ve ever been, but…yeah.”
“Distance is good.”
She nodded like she understood. She didn’t.
“Your major is music?” She shook her head. “Obviously. It must be.” She cast her gaze over the people stumbling out of the barn. I’d leave too if I had to listen to that crap the other DJ was spewing out. “I’m majoring in English.”
I didn’t talk back to her; it just wasn’t me. Instead, I drank my Jack in silence as she drank her Corona. A few minutes later, Matt and Sara came over. Matt crouched next to Kacey and spoke to her in low, urgent tones. She sighed. “I need to call her?”
Matt nodded.
“Christ.” Kacey pulled out her phone and stood up.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Easton,” Matt answered. “He’s wasted. Refusing to move.” He pointed at Kacey. “She’s calling his sister. She’s the only one who can handle him in this state. Asshole gets violent as all hell when you try to cut him off. Likes to party, but can’t really handle the party, if you know what I mean.”