by Rae Kennedy
I look farther out around the restaurant, to the same corner he was sitting in before. But he’s not there.
Maybe I just imagined him. Maybe my long, crazy day with absolutely no sleep has finally caught up with me and I’m straight up hallucinating now.
Or maybe it was him, but he just came to see me to fulfill some sort of morbid curiosity and now he’s gone.
Luckily, the bar is so busy on Friday nights I don’t have too much time to dwell on him and whether or not the sighting was a figment of my imagination.
But when I get back to Mila’s place and collapse onto the couch at three in the morning, I can’t sleep even though I’m completely exhausted. After an hour of restlessness, I put in my earbuds, put on The Gray Album, and fall asleep to Colin’s voice.
I sleep all day, well past when I should reasonably get up and do things before work. I also wake up to two missed calls and four text messages from Ethan.
Ethan: I know we haven’t had much time together lately but I know we can make this work
Ethan: Just come home and talk to me
Ethan: Please call me
Ethan: You’re overreacting. Come home.
Nope. Can’t deal with this right now.
What I really need to be doing right now is looking for a new place to live. I already feel like I’m intruding, but Mila doesn’t seem perturbed that I bummed on her couch all day as we go in together for the Saturday night shift. It should be even busier than last night and I’m hoping for lots of tips and lots of distraction.
The restaurant is packed. It’s standing room only at the bar and with every group that migrates away after a round or two of drinks, two new waves take their place. I’m barely able to get away for my break, telling Mila I’ll only take fifteen instead of the usual thirty.
Two more missed calls and texts.
Ethan: Are you seriously ignoring me?
Ethan: This is ridiculous
I need this to stop, so I call him and try to calmly explain again that I don’t want to be in a relationship. I don’t want talk it out or try to make it better, I just want out.
“You’re being really immature about this, Grace. You’re not usually this emotional. Is it your time of the month or something?”
I hang up on him, almost in tears.
But I don’t let them fall. I steady myself and go back out to the bar, back to work, back to busy, back to distracted.
An hour later, I’m rimming glasses with salt and pouring tequila shots. Mixing up a gin and tonic then a Long Island iced tea. I’m humming to the music playing overhead and muddling some basil and mint for a mojito.
“Gray.”
Everything stops. I’m motionless. He’s the only one who calls me that.
I slowly look over my shoulder, the blood thumping in my ears is deafening.
And there he is. I knew it was him but seeing him here, right in front of me, has me paralyzed and unable to speak. He somehow looks better than I remember. More beautiful, more intense. I’ve only seen him through a screen and the real thing is so much more. I forgot about his gravitational pull, his aura.
I’m walking to his spot at the bar before I’ve consciously made the decision to do so. And now I’m face to face with those eyes again. He’s in a long-sleeved black shirt, only the tattoos on his hands and neck visible. His black hair is longer on top now—it’s thick with textured pieces that sit in every direction.
He’s really here. He’s real.
My throat is completely closed up and I can’t form words. I don’t even know if I’m breathing.
“Hi,” he says low. His voice is a caress.
I can’t stop staring at his mouth. His lips, slightly parted, are full and soft and I want to taste them. Bite them. Lick them. Kiss them. I also sort of want to slap him. How dare he still make me want him after he threw me away? How dare he come here and add extra chaos to the storm that is my life right now?
“What are you doing here?” I manage to choke out.
His gaze holds mine. “I wanted to see you.”
I swallow.
And then someone shouts from my left about ordering another round and a girl in a tube top is waving frantically behind Colin’s shoulder for my attention. So I get them drinks, trying not to make eye contact with Colin every time I pass him. But when I do, he’s always watching.
He doesn’t break eye contact as I walk back over to him. I don’t know what I’m doing.
“You’re busy. When do you get off? I’ll wait for you.”
Wait for me? “What? Why?”
He runs a hand through his hair, his jaw muscles clenching. “I haven’t had the chance to talk to you in two years. I want to. I need—” He lets out a sigh. “You know, things were kind of crazy after everything happened with Logan and the record deal. But we all tried to contact you.”
They did?
“Did you block us or get a new number?” he asks, not quite able to keep his voice steady.
“New number.” New everything, really.
People start to crowd the bar again. A tall woman shakes a fifty dollar bill at me.
“Can I have it?”
I look back at Colin. “Have what?”
“Your number.”
Right. I can’t—I’m having a hard time reconciling what’s going on right now. Too many emotions are swirling around in my head and I feel the tears I held at bay earlier threatening to rise back up. Faces are everywhere. Everyone wants my attention. I’m overwhelmed. It’s too much. Everything right now is too much. Ethan. Colin.
“Gray?” He’s looking at me expectantly.
“I can’t do this right now. I’ve had a hard couple days, Colin. I need you to leave.”
Something in his face dims.
“Okay.” He stands to leave but he stops, his fingertips skimming the edge of the bar. “I loved your poem last night.”
And then he moves away and is swallowed up in the crowd and gone before I can respond.
I turn my back for a second to catch my breath but Mila is standing in front of me. Staring and open-mouthed.
“That was Colin-fucking-Wolfe,” she says.
“I know.”
* * *
“No effing way. I cannot believe you know the lead singer of Wicked Road and you didn’t tell me!” Mila bombards me as soon as we enter her apartment. She is, apparently, a big fan, and now I’m in for it.
“I don’t really know him.” I just lost my virginity to him. Whatever.
“Don’t lie to me, G. Whatever conversation you two were having was legit intense. Tell me everything—wait, I need to go make popcorn.”
So she goes to the kitchen and starts making popcorn, and because the kitchen is literally two steps away, I just turn and watch her and keep talking.
“There isn’t much to tell. He’s friends with the guy who was the best man at my sister’s wedding, so they ended up playing at the reception—”
“Hold up. You know all of them? The whole band?”
I nod weakly.
“So you only met that once, at the wedding?”
Sheesh, she should be an investigative journalist or something.
“We hung out a little after that, but that was two summers ago. I haven’t seen them since.”
Mila studies me for a moment and then she freezes. Her eyes go wide. The kernels are popping in the microwave behind her, little explosions to punctuate her stunned silence.
“Holy. Shit. You’re the Mystery Girl!”
“What?” I shake my head but I can feel my cheeks immediately heat. “That’s crazy, I’m—”
“Yes, yes you are. I can’t even right now. This is crazy.” The microwave beeps but she ignores it. Then she gasps. “Hold the fucking phone. You’ve kissed Colin Wolfe?”
If I thought I was blushing as hard as I could, I was wrong. I’m ten times hotter and probably ten times redder than before. I can’t really deny it at this point.
Mila cackles with glee.
&nbs
p; “We were seeing each other, sort of, for just a really short time. But it ended abruptly. He said I couldn’t handle being in his world—and that was before they got crazy famous.”
He was probably right. I probably couldn’t handle it.
But then the lines of that last song play in my head.
I was wrong
I was wrong
“Hold on.” Mila’s hands are balled up in little fists of excitement by her face before she finally turns and retrieves the bowl of popcorn. She sits, grabs a handful and says, “I’m ready. Start from the beginning.”
* * *
I have the next two days off work and I spend them trying to find an affordable place to live. All of the one-bedroom and even studio apartments I see available are too expensive unless I work double my current hours.
So I peruse the listings of people looking for roommates. I find a couple in my price range, but in one I would be the fifth roommate—is that even legal?—and the other one is already taken by the time I call.
Ethan has called and texted more but I ignore them. Ignoring my problems has never worked in the past, but I don’t know how to tell him any more clearly that I just want to move on.
Even worse, every time my phone buzzes, a feeling of excitement fills me. A silly, unfounded hope that it’s Colin. Even though I know he doesn’t have my number.
Moving on. I’m moving on with my grown-up, adult-ass life. Starting now.
That includes making adult-ass decisions, like whether or not to stay enrolled in next term’s classes. They start in a few weeks and Monday is the last day to withdraw.
I don’t withdraw.
I don’t know where or how I’ll land, but I guess that’s why they call it a leap of faith. I’ve been doing things that scare me ever since—ever since I got in that van and left with the band. I’ve been betting on myself and that’s what I’ll continue to do.
* * *
Tuesday’s shift is uneventful, slower than normal even. It’s just me and Rory working and a few regulars sitting at the bar as we near close.
So I go in the back to get a head start on the closing checklist and make sure everything is stocked for the early shift tomorrow.
“G—” Rory’s voice calls from the hallway. “There’s a guy asking for you.”
I step out of the stock room, straightening my black top and wiping my hands on my skinny jeans. And before I even have the chance to think about Rory’s words, I look up and Colin’s there. Sitting at the bar again in the same spot as before.
My chest constricts at the sight of him and I’m reminded of what an emotional mess I was last time we talked. I’m immediately putty before him and I hate it. I’m in control of my thoughts and feelings and I won’t let him swoop in and stir me up just to break my spirit all over again.
I straighten my spine and walk over to him.
“Hi.”
He looks up from under his thick dark lashes, the tiniest of smiles flashes across his face before it’s gone again.
“Can I get you something to drink?” I say coolly, even though everything inside me is bouncing and on fire.
He shakes his head. “I’m fine with this.” He gestures to the glass of ice water in front of him.
“If you don’t want a drink, why are you at a bar?”
He leans on his forearms, a glint in his eyes as he lowers his voice. “Well, you wouldn’t give me your number.”
“And you, apparently, can’t take a hint.”
He sits back, the smirk staying on his lips this time. “We’re leaving Saturday to go on tour. I was hoping you and I could get something to eat before then. Talk. Catch up.”
I’m already slipping. I want to say yes. Yes to anything. Everything. Being near him is like experiencing a high I’ve never been able to get anywhere else. He’s dangerous.
“Why? What do you want to talk about?”
“I want to apologize. Grovel. Whatever you’ll let me.”
Needles prick the back of my eyes. Two years ago, I would have died to hear this. But I guess he was right two years ago when he decided I was too inexperienced and naïve. I know twenty one is still young, but I'm neither of those things anymore.
“No need to apologize,” I say, holding my chin up while I fill a new glass with ice. “That was two years ago. Am I supposed to still be pining and heartbroken just because you were my first?”
I don’t look at him as I fill the glass with water. He doesn’t need to know that I’ve listened to every song on The Gray Album on repeat before going to sleep the last three nights. He doesn’t need to know that every time Ethan touched or kissed me, a little voice in the back of my mind would say it’s nowhere near as good as it was with Colin.
It was never going to be.
But when I slide the drink in front of him and my eyes meet his, dark blue and swirling with emotions, I see them clearly—the pining and the heartbreak. It steals my breath away for a moment. But just as fast as the emotions were there, they’re gone. His expression, once again, unreadable. His eyes, blank.
“Miss?” Someone at the other end of the bar is holding up an empty glass, rattling the ice at the bottom.
“Excuse me,” I say to Colin and then go to help the customer.
And when I look back, his seat is empty.
Completely empty.
I take his glass from the bar. The little white napkin is sticking to the condensation on the bottom of it, and when I pull off the napkin to toss it, I see the writing.
The black ink has bled into a dark blue where it was covered by the wet ring of the glass but I know the handwriting.
I was your first
But all I want
Is to be your last.
CHAPTER 25
Wednesday night is busier at the bar. It’s already ten minutes away from last call. And he hasn’t come in.
I keep glancing at the seat where he sat, subconsciously thinking he’ll be there this time. Hoping. The napkin from last night is tucked safely in my front pocket, all thirteen words memorized and on repeat in my mind. I knew he wanted to talk. He said he wanted to apologize. But the little note on the napkin says he wants more than that.
Much more.
Why didn’t I just give him my stupid number?
“He’s not coming, is he?”
I jump at Mila’s words as she comes to stand at my side.
“I don’t know.”
And he doesn’t.
I’m still in denial as we lock the doors and turn off the lights. Maybe he’ll come running up to the door and bang on the glass, out in the rain, until I run out and he throws me in his arms and kisses me hard while proclaiming his undying love for me.
I know that scene won’t happen—partially because it’s not actually raining—but none of the rest of it happens either.
Mila and I climb into my Jeep and I drive back to her apartment. But when we park and she gets out, I can’t.
“I think I’m going to drive around for a bit, clear my head.”
“You sure?”
I nod and turn the ignition.
And I drive.
I drive through downtown and out to the suburbs and before I know it, I’m on the little two-lane highway that leads to my hometown.
It’s almost five-thirty in the morning and still dark when I pull onto my parents’ long gravel driveway. I drive past the rows of poplar trees and parked pickup trucks and to the two-story farmhouse.
Everything is a shade of blue, lit only by the moon. Flat plains of grass and gently rolling hills sprawl out in all directions, the view uninterrupted by buildings or lights or roads or people. The air is cool and quiet as I step out.
A warm light glows from inside the house and through the wrap-around porch—the only sign of life.
I head toward the door, toward the faint orange light against the blue. But before I reach it, the hinges of the storm door screech and sigh as my dad and Eric exit the house in their thick flannel shirts
and work boots.
“Gracie Lou!” Dad spots me first and has me smothered in his arms faster than I knew he could move. “I didn’t know you were comin’.”
“Neither did I. I just have a day off, so I decided to come for a visit.”
“Is everything all right, pumpkin?” he asks quietly, studying me, his bushy eyebrows knitted.
“Yeah, Dad. I’m fine.”
“Okay, then. There’s still some breakfast inside. Go fix yourself a plate while it’s good.”
“I will.”
Then Eric wrangles his arm around my neck, pulling my face to his chest.
“Hey,” I say into his shirt as I turn my head to breathe.
“We miss you around here.” He finally loosens his arm a bit. “Especially Kyla. Does she know you’re here?”
“No, I didn’t tell anyone.”
“Well, you better tell her before everyone else finds out. She’ll freak if she finds out she was the last to know.”
“You’re right.”
“Of course I am.”
I roll my eyes and give him a half-hearted slug to the shoulder as I pass.
Mom practically faints when she sees me, shouting and screeching in indecipherable syllables as she hugs me, pets my hair, and then promptly slides a plate full of food in front of me.
She's already making plans to have the whole family over for dinner by the time I finish eating and excuse myself to my room. I collapse onto the bed. Exhaustion catches up to me and I want nothing more than to sleep after the realization that I haven’t slept in a bed in almost a week. But before I shut my eyes, I make sure to text Mila where I am so she doesn’t worry and Kyla so she doesn’t strangle me.
* * *
Kyla doesn’t strangle me, just jumps on my bed on all fours while squealing with excitement that she just couldn’t wait to see me any longer.
She did wait until almost two in the afternoon, so I have to give her credit.
“Spill it. What’s going on? Why are you here on a random-ass Thursday?”
“I had some stuff on my mind so I went for a drive to think. I just sort of started heading in this direction and decided to keep going, since I haven’t been back in a while.”
“Oh, I’m well aware of exactly how long it has been since you’ve visited. Fifty-eight days. I can give you the hours too if you’d like. Now. What are we thinking about?”