by Lynn Stevens
Hey Carly,
Okay, now that he’s gone, I have to tell you something. Remember when you and G got into a fight about his show? Of course you do! Anyway, you know his last show was Monday night. He did three encores that night. For his final song, he performed something he’d written himself. It was AMAZING. The audience cried! Well, so did I. It was beautiful, sad, and haunting. Even weirder, but in a good way, it was COUNTRY. Seriously, he sounded better than most country guys on the radio. Anyway, I thought you should know that. I mean, you encouraged him to go out there with his stuff and he did.
By the way, high school is awesome. Why didn’t you tell me how much fun it would be?
Love ya!
Meerkat
Instead of being happy, it tore me up. He’d finally let the real Gracin out and I hadn’t been there to see it. The walls closed around me. I had to get out of this room. After grabbing my tablet and messenger bag, I ran from my dorm room and down three flights of stairs until I was outside Peabody House. The weather was gorgeous, perfect for reading boring history chapters and researching an essay I didn’t want to write.
I found an empty table in front of Kensington Library. The red umbrella opened to shade my books as I spread them out on the surface. Checking the time on my phone and making sure I didn’t miss any texts or calls like a fool, I settled into the American Revolution. Nothing had changed since US History my freshman year.
The sun dipped behind the gothic buildings. The late summer air held a chill of fall in its breeze. I crossed my arms and kept reading.
“Aren’t you in my Comp class?” a voice said.
I glanced up and, sure enough, a girl I barely recognized stood on the other side of the table. Her blonde hair swirled around her face as the wind kicked up. With the practiced hand of someone used to such hair issues, she pulled it back into a ponytail and tied it as she sat.
“Do you have any idea what you’re writing about?” she asked as she took out her laptop and a notebook. “I was thinking about doing the whole how-I-spent-my-summer personal essay gig, but Dr. Ranston might find that blasé. I mean, I spent the summer at a camp for kids suffering from AIDS, so she might not.” Frustration filled her face. “What do you think?”
“I think any prof who hates kids with AIDS should retire to the Appalachians with a banjo.” I kept my voice from cracking. Who the hell was this girl anyway? I didn’t invite her to sit with me.
She laughed and held out her hand. “I’m Chloe, by the way. What’s your name?”
“Carly.” I touched the tips of her fingers and pulled away quickly.
“Major?”
Apparently, she was not to be deterred. “Theater and Business. You?”
Her eyes widened. “Interesting mix of a double major there. Mechanical Engineering here.” Her shoulders fell a bit as if she just realized something. “I’m sorry. My mother’s always telling me not to be so … forward, but I recognized you from class and you’re always alone –”
“It’s fine.” I didn’t want to make her suffer for being herself. My thoughts flicked to Gracin, and I cringed. “Don’t worry about it.”
She stared at me, a sad smile flashed on her face. “This is a lot harder than I expected, you know? I thought college would be work but a lot of fun. So far, it hasn’t.”
“I miss home,” I blurted.
“Where’s home?”
“Branson, Missouri. You?”
“Memphis. I wanted to go away for school, but not too far.” She shrugged and stared past me toward the library. “So, do you mind if I study with you?”
I smiled.
Chloe and I studied until she declared herself famished, then we headed toward Peabody, where she lived a floor above me, and raided her mini-fridge. By the end of the night, I’d inadvertently made a friend. When I got back to my room, I realized I hadn’t checked my phone for hours. I wasn’t sure if that made me happy or sad. I glanced at it, disappointed again that Gracin hadn’t tried. I’d hoped telling him how I felt would make our deal null and void.
Wasn’t going to be the last time I was wrong in my life.
∞ ∞ ∞
By the end of the week, Chloe decided we needed some real college fun. To her, that meant a frat party and lots of booze. The more I got to know her, the more she reminded me of Ivy. Her energy infected mine, and I found myself seeing more of the campus than just the buildings where my classes were held.
I wasn’t interested in the alcohol, but doing something other than sitting in my room on a Saturday night seemed like the best cure for a broken heart. If I stayed in my dorm, my thoughts were sure to stray toward Gracin.
We walked across campus to Greek row.
“What’s with the necklace?” Chloe asked.
My hand dropped. I hadn’t realized I’d been playing with it. Funny how something so new in my life had become so important.
Chloe stopped and lifted the sterling silver pick and guitar. “No regrets? Sister, we aren’t going to regret anything tonight. Except maybe a hangover in the morning.” She laughed at her own joke. “But seriously, what’s with the necklace?”
I smiled and stepped back. The necklace landed with a thud against my sternum. “It was a gift.”
Her eyes widened. “Boyfriend?”
Shaking my head, I moved around her and restarted the trek.
“Ex-boyfriend?” Chloe caught up with me.
This time I nodded.
“Let me guess, you left for school and the jackass dumped you? What a jerk.” Chloe put her hand on my arm, stopping my forward progression. “I’m sorry, Carly.”
A small sigh escaped. It would be easier to let Chloe believe her own story, but it wasn’t the truth. My anti-lying policy was still in place. “It wasn’t like that. We … It was nothing but a summer fling. We both knew it would be over when I left.” I shrugged like it didn’t matter anymore, because it really didn’t. Gracin was in my not-so-distant past, but my past nonetheless. “It just hurt more than I expected. That’s all.”
“Then it was more than a fling.”
Again, I shrugged and started walking again.
“Does he know? Have you talked to him since you got here?” Chloe’s short legs had to run-walk to keep up with my increasing pace.
“We agreed it would end when I left, Chloe. No texts, no emails, no calls. Nothing. Once I drove away, it was over.”
“And you’re okay with that?” Her voice hitched, which meant shock beyond normal human shock. If she was mildly shocked, her voice would hiccup. It was her predominant emotion.
I shoved my hands in the pockets of my jeans, fingering the fake ID I’d had since my sixteenth birthday. “I have to be.”
Thankfully, we didn’t discuss Gracin the last two blocks. Not that I would’ve heard her anyway. The music blared from each house, filling the streets with pop and country, alternative and jazz. It was a musical mess. Chloe seemed to have a good idea where we were going and led the way through the bodies cruising along Gillete. I grabbed her arm before losing her in the growing crowd. She led me up three steps and into a house where the music almost blew me out of the water.
Before I figured out what was actually going on, Chloe had shoved a bottle of microbrew in my hand. She chugged half of her own, swaying her hips to the kind of crappy music I’d endured all summer. To say it dampened my mood was an understatement.
“Hey!” She waved her arm at someone across the room. “I’ll be right back, Carly. There’s the guy who invited us.”
I leaned against the wall, feeling more like a fool than I ever had. After all the things I’d done in my life, a frat party was not what I thought would bring me down. I could jump off a bridge with nothing but a parachute and hope, but I couldn’t stand to be in a house full of drunken co-eds.
What had happened to me?
Oh, right. Gracin Ford.
I caught sight of Chloe grinding against some guy, presumably the one she’d mentioned. My fingers found t
heir way to the necklace. Just the memory of Gracin putting it around my neck made me shiver. I missed him more each day.
Abandoning Chloe wasn’t an option, but I couldn’t take the heat inside. I pushed my way through the mass of bodies and found a back door to a small yard. It was just as crowded outside with plenty of thrashing and grinding there, too. I kept moving until I discovered a relatively quiet piece of retaining wall near the house. The breeze took the scent of stale beer away. I sat, leaning against the siding.
The microbrew in my hand weighed like an anvil until I finally took a swig. I didn’t owe Gracin any more sobriety. The warm beer slid down my throat. It tasted terrible, probably wouldn’t have been better cold either. The song inside changed and a few girls screamed. It took me a few minutes until I recognized it. “Surrender 2 Me” by Accentuate. God, I’d hated this song until I’d heard Gracin sing it with nothing but his guitar. I lifted the bottle, draining the nasty tang of stale hops and wishing someone would break the fucking stereo.
“Not your type of music?”
I glanced up at a fairly nerdy looking guy with tortoise shell frames. In two seconds, I pegged him as someone who took his nerdiness to the level of popularity. I could respect that. His dark brown hair fell across his forehead in a happy-go-lucky way. He wore a red plaid shirt buttoned to the neck and baggy cargo shorts. Two bottles of the shitty microbrew hung from one hand.
“Or not your type of party?” he asked.
I pointed to the bottles. “Either you were planning on coming over here or you’ve been carrying two bottles around for a while until any unsuspecting girl needed a drink. Which is it?”
“Answer my question first and I’ll answer yours.” His eyebrows disappeared under his hair.
“I hate this fucking song. And if you’d asked me four months ago, this would’ve been exactly my type of party. Now, not so much.” I waved my hand at him. “Your turn. Be honest. I’ll know if you’re lying.”
He moved toward where my feet rested on the wall and sat down, offering me one of the bottles. “Okay, I’ll play. I saw you here, grabbed two of what you were drinking, and came over.”
The bottle was cold, so he wasn’t lying. “Why?”
He sipped the beer, his face cringing. “God, this shit sucks. How can you drink it?”
“Don’t change the subject.” I took my own sip, and my grimace had to have matched his. The beer was not better cold. “But you’re right, this shit does suck. Don’t lie to me. Why me?”
“Wow, you shoot straight from the hip, don’t you?” This time he didn’t cringe when he took a gulp. He held the bottle up and stared at the label. “Maybe you need to chug it to avoid the taste and get the buzz.”
I sat up and pointed at him. “One, no clichés. Two, you’re avoiding my question.”
“Okay, fine.” He tilted his head and stared at me for a minute longer than polite company required. “One, you’re beautiful. Two, beautiful girls should never be left alone at a party. Three, you looked sad. How’s that? Honest and to the point.”
It was my turn to stare at him.
“Or should I disappear into the crowd because your massive boyfriend is three seconds from pummeling me into the ground?”
My laughter took me off guard. “No pummeling. Not tonight.”
He held out his hand. “Tagg.”
“You’re it?” I let my fingers grip his for the briefest of moments. Just enough to be polite without leading him on.
“No, Tagg is my name. Short for Taggert. My parents thought they were being unique, but didn’t take into consideration years of torture I’d suffer at their creativity.” He tilted his bottle and drained it. “God, this shit sucks.”
“You said that already.”
He pointed the neck of his bottle toward me. “You still haven’t told me your name.”
“Who said we were on a first-name basis?” Flirting with Tagg was fun, but it was wrong. I ignored the stone of guilt weighing heavier in my stomach the longer I talked to this guy.
“Ah.” He nodded his head, pursing his lips. “I see how you are now. Get a guy all riled up with witty banter, let him think he might have a chance, and shoot him down like Dillinger in an alley.”
Now he was just pissing me off. “First, you know nothing about me. Second, witty banter in no way means I’m giving you a chance. Third, it’s not going to happen, Tagg. I’m not looking for a date or a one-night stand or anything else for that matter. Clear?”
“Crystal.” He tilted his head again.
I waited for him to leave, but he didn’t. He leaned back on the palms of his hands and stared at the night sky. My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out without taking my eyes off Tagg. He didn’t move an inch. I glanced at the text from Chloe. Apparently, a one-night stand was exactly what she needed. For someone who’d seemed so shy a few days ago, she’d really come out of her shell. Regardless, it meant I could leave without an ounce of guilt.
“Well, Tagg, it’s been real, but I gotta go.” I stood up, stretching my arms toward the clear sky. Fuzziness filled my head. It’d been too long since I had alcohol, and I really didn’t miss feeling slightly out of sorts.
“How’re you getting back?” he asked, his gaze still on the stars.
I pointed to my boot-clad feet.
“What dorm?”
“Seriously?”
He finally dropped his head to meet my stare. “You’re in one of the freshman dorms on the other side of the campus and planning on walking there. I, for one, do not intend on letting you walk alone.”
“What makes you think I’m a freshman?”
“Not sharing all my secrets tonight.” He smirked. “Now, what dorm?”
I almost laughed at him. “I’m a big girl, Tagg. I can take care of myself.”
“Oh, it’s not you I’m worried about. What if some innocent beggar comes up to you and you beat the life out of him for begging for a quarter? I couldn’t live with myself if that happened.” He stood and offered his arm. “If you don’t let me walk you back, I’ll just follow you.”
I pushed his arm out of the way. “Look, you seem like a nice guy –”
Both hands clenched at his chest. “Not the nice guy line. Please. My heart can’t take hearing that again.”
A snicker snuck free from my lips.
He smiled and crossed his arms. “You like honesty, right?” I nodded and he continued without breaking his gaze. “Okay, here’s honesty. I saw the pic on your phone. You either have a boyfriend who isn’t here or you just broke up with some guy. Either way, you’re not available and I’m cool with that.” He leaned down like he had a secret only I could hear. “This has been the most stimulating conversation I’ve had with another person since I got here, so I’m not about to let this go. So I have a proposal.”
That’s what got me into this mess. I raised a single eyebrow.
Tagg held out his hand. “Friends?”
“That’s it? Your big proposal is friends?” Something in his eyes told me not to believe him.
“Yes, friends. Can you do that? Or are you more of the loner type of girl who’d rather have the plastic recreation of a skeleton as her best friend?”
Regardless of his intentions, Tagg made me laugh. I hadn’t done that in weeks, and I missed it.
I took his hand in a firm shake this time. “Friends.”
“So, does this mean we’re on a first-name basis now, friend?” His smile grew with each word.
“I suppose. You may call me Carly.”
Tagg kissed the back of my hand, and despite everything else in my life, I kind of hoped a spark would erupt. It didn’t. The relief I felt surprised me more than I expected. I wanted to move on with my life, but Gracin was fully imbedded in my heart. Nobody was bound to shove him away. No matter how much I wanted the pain to ease up, I wanted to hold on to it, too.
“It’s my pleasure, Carly. Now, let’s have more stimulating conversation on our trek across campus.” T
agg offered his arm again. “I will be a perfect gentleman. You have my word.”
“Good,” I said, linking my arm through his. “Because these are steel-toed boots, Tagg. And I’m not afraid to use them.”
“I have no doubt about that.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Miranda’s emails became more frequent over the next two weeks. Each subject line had one word: Gracin. At least until she realized I wasn’t reading them, then she’d write “Urgent” or “Need Ur Help” instead. The minute I opened them, Gracin’s name popped out at me. I didn’t want to know. It wasn’t like we agreed not to cyberstalk each other, but I couldn’t stand the idea of him with someone else. In L.A., that was sure to happen. He had called them celebrogroupies, girls who didn’t care how many stars you had as long as they got seen with you. Gracin’s celebrity may have waned in Branson, but that didn’t mean it didn’t skyrocket the minute some paparazzi caught sight of him back in California.
Saturday, a month into my new life, Miranda called me at seven in the morning. She might have expected me to be sleeping, but she was wrong. I’d kept up my running schedule since getting to school.
“Hello?” I answered when the phone rang its old-school ring. All of my previous ringtones had been little recordings of Gracin playing in the cabin. A week after I’d checked into my dorm, I’d changed them to the default setting. His voice was too much to take every time someone called.
“Are you ever going to read my emails?” Miranda’s voice broke on every other word, as she usually did when overly excited.
“If they concern a former pop star, no.” I started to slide my finger over the screen when she yelled, “Wait.” Putting the phone back up to my ear, I waited as requested.
“Fine, I won’t talk about Gracin, but I do need to talk about something.” She sighed, and I heard something else in her voice. Something sad.
“What’s going on, Meerkat?” I sat on the bench outside my dorm. The sweat I’d worked up chilled quickly in the early morning breeze. Autumn was gaining momentum. Soon enough I’d have to run in sweats and a sweatshirt.