true colors - jb & ag 《completed》

{twenty-three}

Bass pounded in Justin's chest as he unloaded a box of new vinyl. He cut the packing tape and opened the flaps, breathing in the unique scents of cardboard, plastic, and history. A fresh shipment was like opening a treasure chest. Jeff never paid him for his help, unless you counted buying the occasional album at top dollar—like the 1969 Stones record Justin had sold him that day. Jeff claimed he had a buyer lined up in the UK, but Justin suspected that was bull. His old friend still felt guilty for the robbery fiasco—that he hadn't been able to convince the chief of Justin's innocence.

Justin slipped Metallica's Master of Puppets into a clear plastic sleeve, thumbed through the M section, and filed it between Metal Church and the Mighty Mighty Bosstones. Jeff couldn't keep Metallica in stock for long. But offering a minimal supply of each band made his clientele feel like they'd found something special and prompted them to buy.

Seeking a bit of peace, Justin had opted to hang around after their transaction. Twisted Beauty had been his refuge since he could ride a bike to town by himself, but today every song seemed to claw at his heart. Even the act of filing reminded him of her.

He pulled another LP out of the box as the turntable in the corner dropped a new record with a soft plunk, followed by the anticipatory scratch of the needle. It was an old '80s tune, one of Jeff's favorites. Piano, haunting and sweet, wove through the shop before it melded into a throbbing rhythm that seeped into Justin's blood and pulled him back into that closet with Ariana—the curves of her face, the taste of her lips, the feel of her skin. Kissing her had blown his expectations out of the water. But with them it was more than physical. He knew her heart and she knew his. Ariana was his rock, and he was her spark. She balanced him, reminded him of who he was. But more than that, she inspired him to become better—a person worthy of her.

Justin would totally walk the world, as the song vowed, if it would make her fall for him. He had no clue if their make-out session had been an impulsive thing for her or something she'd been dreaming about . . . like him.

Suddenly he had to know. He picked up the box and carried it to the counter. "I gotta run, Jeff."

"That's cool, kid. Everything okay?"

Justin felt a stupid grin spread across his face. "More than."

Outside he glanced down the street at a new tree sweater in progress and smiled. Only in Gilt Hollow. His phone vibrated. He pulled it out of his pocket and felt a rush of disappointment that the text was from Penelope.

- Need to talk.

That situation was getting tricky. The girl had a one-track mind. He'd kissed her a few times, but it had become more like an obligation than a joy. Her connection to Colin made her a valuable resource, and not just to make Colin jealous—which he couldn't deny had its benefits.

Before he could reply, the phone buzzed again.

- Meet me at the barn in 30.

Penelope's father owned an eighty-acre farm on the outskirts of town. They'd "hung out" a few times in an abandoned barn on the back forty. But Justin had no desire to "hang out" with her at the moment.

He typed:

-Can't. Rain check?

- It's important. Overheard something that could help u.

Justin had talked to Pen about the fact that someone was setting him up and trying to get him thrown back in jail. He'd kept his theories about who and why to himself. She didn't seem capable of connecting the dots, which was fine by him. But he'd asked her to keep her ears open to anything that sounded suspicious.