The Opposite of Nothing by Shari Slade Page A

blonde up against the jukebox at The Brick, one hand splayed on her waist, the other cupping the back of her head, his leg wedged between her thighs. The redhead straddling his lap in the quad, his face buried in her neck. Jesus.
    Sasha: How was it? The kiss?
    When she read his answer, it was like he’d rung a bell inside her body.
    Tay: Right before I realized I shouldn’t be doing it, it was amazing.
    * * *
    “T his is CJ Evans with Random Nonsense on WCCC, The Cube, bringing you some gorgeous girl rock. And I don’t just mean pretty girls. Or even rock, in the traditional sense. I’m talking about capital M music. Lush vocals, arrangements that will drown you, and lyrics that heal while they hurt. Right now, I’m gonna let Ellie Goulding fill up the whole of our souls.”
    Jessa flashed an exaggerated eye-roll, exposing so much white it had to hurt, and pulled her headphones down around her neck. “ This Love Will Be Your Downfall ? Really?”
    “It’s a great track.”
    Jessa wrinkled her nose. Her dreads were knotted on top of her head, poking in every direction as she shook it. “It’s pablum, and you know it.”
    “You’d rather I play some crunchy Ani D.?”
    “Better. But you don’t need to wallow in that either. An infusion of classic Riot Grrl might do you some good.”
    It was how they’d bridged the gap from wary strangers to sort of friends. Dancing on the tiny isthmus of their barely overlapping eclectic tastes, sparring over music choices, debating the merits of indie cred over slick, corporate packaging until Jessa had caved with a huff, “Fine. It doesn’t have to be indie to be cool, but it sure helps.”
    Callie ignored the impatient click of Jessa’s tongue stud and braced for the inevitable backlash as she queued up her next selection, a local band’s punk cover of Fiona Apple’s Criminal. She held her hand up in protest as soon as the intro hit the sweet spot where Jessa would realize exactly what song she’d chosen. “Don’t.”
    “Oh hell no. I hope this streak of what-have-I-done music isn’t about last Friday night because you shouldn’t even worry—”
    “No, that’s not it at all.”
    “I’m sorry things got so intense. I thought we were having a good time, but Tim was being an ass. I told him I’d eat his balls for breakfast if he ever got that aggressive again. And what was with Tayber dragging you out caveman-style? You two hooking up?” Jessa’s voice was all curiosity and zero venom, but Callie’s palms still prickled, slick with sweat.
    “God, no.”
    “Don’t hold back on my account. We enjoyed a hot minute, but it was only a diversion. I never even let him past second base.” She spun in her chair, a tornado of mischief, an un-bottled genie. After almost two years, she was finally wearing down Callie’s reserves. She hadn’t understood at first that Jessa always meant what she said. For all her counter-culture trappings, she completely lacked artifice. The idea that Jessa and Tayber had diverted each other made her belly flip in an altogether unpleasant way. It wasn’t wrong. It was just so empty.
    Callie turned back to her laptop and cross-faded Criminal into an alt-country torch song that made her break out in gooseflesh every time she heard it. Random Nonsense was really living up to its name today. She shivered with the opening notes, her throat tight with longing and maybe hope. “So it meant nothing?”
    “I wouldn’t say nothing, exactly. But it wasn’t important. It was about feeling good, not about feelings.” Jessa’s mouth opened wide with surprise, like she’d solved a million-dollar puzzle. “You’ve got it bad, don’t you?”
    “I do not.” Callie touched her cheek. Her face flamed hot with shame. She considered crawling under the soundboard. Her pulse sped up in terror of what would happen next. There would be mocking and ostracizing and—
    “Oh. My. God. You so do. You’re blushing purple.”
    Shit. Hurt and anger