I want to hold on to this feeling, but more than that, I want to know what the hell to do with it.
Chapter 23
Ally
Hailey swishes her chicken satay into the peanut sauce, then takes a bite. “And did you see when Maddie tried to switch things up with her sister?”
Chloe’s eyes twinkle as they dissect the latest episode of their favorite show. “And it worked. Until the disco ball fell down. Oops!”
The girls laugh in tandem, then Chloe scoops up some pad thai noodles with her chopsticks, smiling the whole time.
Hailey’s eyes pop out, cartoon-style, and she points as if she’s spotted a unicorn trotting down Broadway. “Oh my God, you can use chopsticks! I want to learn.”
Chloe tips her head to me. “Ally taught me. They’re so easy once you know how to do it.”
Hailey grabs her chopsticks and thrusts them in my direction, batting her eyes. “Teach me, please.”
“Of course. It’s easy-peasy.” I can see why Chloe likes Hailey. The pixie blonde is animated and full of positive energy.
I teach her the basics, and a few minutes later, she’s clumsily twirling noodles into her mouth.
“You’re amazing,” she says to me. “You’re like the mom on Girls Rule. She’s super cool too.”
That’s high praise, so I smile and say thank you. As they return to the issue of whether Maddie should let a new drummer into their all-girls band, my mind wanders to my own bandmate. To how Miller looked so hurt, then tried to cover it up so valiantly.
Was I cold for putting my foot down about dinner?
Or was I wise?
I sigh as I take a sip of my tea, wishing for answers, wishing I knew where to even look for them.
But I don’t, because I don’t have a knitting pattern to follow with him. We’re not dating, but we are screwing around, and it’s only temporary, and yet we’re still friends. I wish I’d been able to give him a yes to something as simple as joining us for dinner. The last few times I tried to integrate men I dated with my family, it didn’t pan out. Miller’s different, of course. But what does it mean that this man who’s played a key role in Chloe’s life for several years is now also the man I’m enjoying benefits with?
Temporary benefits.
“Would that even work?” Hailey’s question interrupts my reverie. “Would it be possible for somebody who sings soprano to hit those low notes?”
We’re back to the topic of Girls Rule, as Hailey lays out the scenario the lead singer faced in a recent episode. I weigh in with my musical opinion, then the girls ask if they can order mango sticky rice for dessert.
“Since the first semester is almost over and I’ve done well in school,” Chloe says, making her case.
“Me too. It can be like a reward,” Hailey adds, and they’re like two puppies, vying for an extra scoop of kibble.
“Let’s do it.”
After we finish the sweet rice and I pay, Hailey grabs her phone to text her mom, while Chloe rests her head on my shoulder. “Thanks so much for doing this, Ally. I had a really fun time.”
A neon light flashes brightly in my brain. Ally. She called me Ally for the first time. I blink, my mind tripping back to earlier at dinner. She called me Ally then too, didn’t she?
I sit straighter, a question poised on the tip of my tongue.
But Hailey looks up from her phone. “Can you sleep over tomorrow? I just asked my mom, and she said it’s fine with her.”
Chloe’s eyes plead with me from behind her glasses. “We have a half day, and then winter break starts. Can I, Ally?”
Third time. I beam. I don’t know why it feels like I’ve graduated to the next level, but it does, and I’ll take it. I’ll happily take it. “Absolutely.”
While we walk Hailey back to her apartment, I’m on cloud nine, and I want to share the news with Miller.
Later that night when Chloe’s asleep, I text him, but there’s something else I need to say first.
Ally: I missed you at dinner, but I’m not sure how to balance everything now.
Miller: *gif of juggler with ten pins in the air*
Ally: Seriously though . . . I should have invited you, but I’m trying to figure out how to make everything fit.
Miller: *gif of cat sliding under a bureau*
Miller: It’s all good. I NEVER want to pressure you when it comes to Chloe. I was just starving. You know me and my appetite.
Ally: Yes, I do.
Miller: But I do understand that the juggling is real for you. And that you have to do what makes sense.
A familiar feeling rushes over me. It’s how I felt the other night when I saw Miller carrying Chloe. It's the feeling of falling. He understands, and he’s so good to both of us.
Ally: So I’m forgiven?
Miller: That would imply you did something bad. Were you a bad girl, Ally? Oh wait, you were naughty. Please do more naughty things.
And we’re good, so good, so I move on.
Ally: Want to send me the words and music for your new song?
Miller: Check your email. ☺
Ally: I see it! Also, I’m no longer Aunt Ally.
Miller: WHAT???? Are you OK?
Ally: Gah! Didn’t mean to freak you out! It’s all good. She doesn’t call me Aunt Ally anymore. It started tonight. Apparently, I’m just Ally now!
Miller: That is completely awesome!
I sink back onto my couch, open the email from him, and dive into the song, singing softly to get the feel for his new tune. Once I have the basics down, I grab my knitting bag and work on Sam’s hat, still humming. As I work the row, I decide that I’m doing okay with Chloe, despite having to figure things out on the fly.
Maybe I deserve a reward too.
Even if I don’t know right now how to knit Miller, Chloe, and me into any sort of pattern that makes sense, I know one thing: I want to see him again, and I’ve been given a golden chance.
Ally: Chloe is sleeping at a friend’s house tomorrow night. Would you like to spend the night with me?
His response arrives faster than any message I’ve received in my life.
Miller: *gif of nerdy dude in glasses pumping his fist and shouting YES*
As I finish the hat, I decide maybe we can manage it all—Hot Stuff, and friendship, and benefits.
After all, what could possibly go wrong?
Chapter 24
Ally
I suck.
I flub so many lines I’m ready to send myself back to high school. I have factions of robots waiting to take over a zombie-infested school in the not-so-distant future, but the last few chapters of the sports-radio teen star story are killing me.
“Can’t win ’em all,” Kristy says with a shrug when I mispronounce horrors as whores.
I bang my forehead on the desk. “That word is a horror,” I mumble into the mic.
“Could be worse.” Kristy’s voice booms in my headset. “The author could have used peculiarly.”
Raising my face, I clutch my cheeks and gasp, like I’m screaming in a slasher flick. “Never peculiarly,” I say, since that’s cruel and unusual punishment to a hard-working voice artist.
I take a deep breath, count to three, clear my mind, and then return to the final chapter, giving my all to the character as she comes to terms with being a girl who loves sports radio in love with a boy who wants nothing to do with a ball, a field, or a racket.
With laser focus, I nail the ending.
It’s two hours later than I expected though, which knocks me off schedule for starting the undead tale. Plus, Miller’s going to be here any minute, and we’re supposed to rehearse.
I check my phone for any change in plans, and an email message blinks at me.
Extra pickups needed for the Casey Stern book. Sorry! But we want to wrap it up before the holiday break.
It’s Angie at Butler Press, and I call her back. “Hey, I’m at my regular studio. Can I do them here?”
She pauses b
efore answering, and that’s a clear no. “Well, if there’s any chance you can just scoot up here, we’d prefer it. We really want the same sound environment.”
What the client wants, the client gets. “I’m on my way. See you in thirty.”
I wave goodbye to Kristy, call a Lyft, and ring Miller on my way down the stairs.
“What’s a five-letter word for where I plan to spend the rest of the night?” he says as he answers.
A laugh bursts from my chest. “I have no idea. Couch?”
“Nope. Inside you.”
I count off. “Miller,” I say, deadpan. “That’s nine letters plus a space.”
“Oh, excuse me. I meant p-u-s-s-y.”
My jaw drops. “You’re filthy.”
In an ever-so-innocent voice, he says, “I spelled it out.”
“Oh, well, then you’re a cupcake.”
“I’d like to eat you like a cupcake.”
I laugh, since I don’t think I’m going to be able to call up the serious side of my friend right now. “I have to head to Butler Press for an hour. I’m going to be late for rehearsal.”
“Then I’ll hang out longer with Campbell. We’re having lunch.”
A kernel of worry digs into me. “Are you talking this way in front of him?”
“He’s in the little boys’ room. Don’t worry. I’d never say words like I want to fuck you till you come hard, scream my name, and beg me for another in front of him.” Miller pauses. “Oh, hey, Cam.”
I blush at his antics. “Miller,” I chide. “Does he know you’re talking to me?”
“Hi, Ally,” I hear Campbell say.
I sigh, then whisper, “Does he know?”
“That I always talk to you like this? Yes.”
Since I’m not going to get a straight answer out of a most-festive Miller, I switch gears. “I won’t be back at the studio to rehearse for another hour, hour and a half. Can we push our rehearsal back? I checked, and the studio is open.” But before he can answer, an idea hits me. “Unless you want to go start with Campbell? Rehearse it with him till I get there, and do any final fine-tuning?”
“Brains, beauty, and a plan. If I’m ever trapped on a desert island, I want it to be with you.”
“Let’s hope we’re only trapped for a day or two, because I’m terrible at fishing.”
“Me too. I’m excellent, however, at using UberEats.”
As the car slogs uptown, something occurs to me. Tonight’s a desert-island kind of night, and I want Miller to know how much I want to be stuck with him on that island.
Since I’m quite skilled at using UberEats too, I order him a surprise at the studio.
Chapter 25
Miller
When I hang up with Ally, Campbell shoots me a look across the table at Willy G’s, his favorite diner. “So you need me to save the day?”
“Yes. Can you ride in on your white horse, please?”
“But of course. I save my loyal steed for occasions like this.”
“Seriously though. You want to help me for an hour or so? Unless you have a lesson.”
He shakes his head. “My schedule is your schedule.” He glances around to make sure no one is listening. “Don’t repeat what I’m about to say.”
I press a finger to my lips. “Your secret will be safe with me.”
He whispers conspiratorially, “I don’t hate playing with you.”
I toss a french fry at him. “Thank you. Thank you very much for the not-hate.”
“You’re welcome. And the truth is, it’s the opposite of not-hate.”
“Thanks. I not-hate playing with you too.”
He grabs his Diet Coke and downs some, then clears his throat. “Also, what’s the deal with you and Ally?”
I do my best confused look. “What do you mean?”
“Gee, I wonder?”
“Spit it out, bro.”
He scratches his jaw. “Call me crazy, but I picked up on this vibe from the two of you at my house, and from the way you were just talking to her. Is there anything more?”
I take a breath and debate whether to tell him, but in my hesitation, he finds the answer.
He smacks a palm on the Formica. “I always knew the two of you could be something. Glad to see it took me for it to happen.”
“First off, nothing is really happening. We don’t want to mess with our friendship. Second, you’re taking credit?”
“Hell, yeah. I love credit. Also, how exactly is the not-really-happening part working out for you?”
“It’s going . . .” My voice trails off as I debate how much to say, then I decide to err on the side of he’s-already-figured-it-out. “It’s going as well as a friendship can go with a woman you’ve wanted for six years.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah, exactly.”
“That sounds like I need to pay.” He plunks down some cash for the bill, and I can’t argue with that.
We skedaddle from the diner, heading for the studio.
When we arrive, the receptionist smiles at me with her wide eyes. “Mr. Hart, there’s a delivery for you.”
She hands me two cups from Dr. Insomnia’s. One is marked C and one is marked M. I lift the plastic top on M and my mouth waters when I see hot chocolate, topped with extra whipped cream. There’s a note on the cup too.
From A . . . No dongles were harmed in the making of these titular beverages.
I laugh, my heart flipping around in my chest as I take a drink, then once more as I hand the coffee to my brother, loving that she sent a drink for him.
He takes a sip then lets out a low whistle as we walk down the hall. “You have it bad, Miller.”
I consider denying it, but what’s the point? I kind of do, and that’s both awesome and awful at the same time. I shrug, take another hearty gulp, and say hi to Jackson, who’s waiting in the studio.
Then we get to work on making music.
Music is where I don’t have to think, don’t have to figure out too-complicated-even-for-the-SAT problems. Music comes naturally to me, and it fulfills me in a way nothing else can or will.
I show my brother the music and the lyrics for “Coming Together,” and it takes him all of a minute to get a feel for the song. Campbell grabs a guitar that’s resting against the wall, slings it on, and strums the first few notes.
I sing, and something is just easy about playing with him. Even though I wrote the song to sing with Ally, even though it doesn’t suit two male voices, I still feel the rush I experienced when I was ten and we formed our first band in the treehouse in our backyard.
Campbell smiles too, nodding his head as we make melodies, and it’s better than instinct. It’s a beautiful summer breeze.
It’s only when I look up later in the session that I see we have an audience. Ally, Kristy, Jackson, and the receptionist are watching us from the other side of the glass, clapping and cheering.
“Oh, stop,” Campbell says into the mic, but his smile says keep it up.
“It’s not often we get to see the Heartbreakers jamming,” Ally says from the other side.
“It’s not often it happens.” I used to try valiantly to get him to start up again with me, but he’s always said no. I’ve accepted that Campbell doesn’t want to play again in the band. But a song or two now and then seems to suit him.
“Want to play it again?” he asks.
“Hell, yeah.”
When we jam through it one more time, Jackson’s camera on us, Ally’s eyes watching thoughtfully, I savor every second, content to enjoy each moment and make the most of it.
After Campbell says goodbye, Ally joins me in the studio. “You know it’ll never sound the same with me as it does with him,” she warns me.
“It’s not supposed to sound the same. It’s supposed to have our mark on it,” I whisper in her ear.
She trembles, and I take that as my cue to tell her something else. “This is going to be the hardest rehearsal of my life, because I can’t wait t
o get out of here.”
When she smiles at me, I know.
I fucking know.
I’ve fallen for my best friend.
Too bad I have no clue how to get off the desert island with our friendship intact.
Chapter 26
Miller
It’s not just the hot chocolate. Or the fact that she leaves Bananagrams out on the coffee table and gives me a cute, flirty look, like we’re really going to play it tonight.
It’s not even the new bottle of wine she left on the kitchen counter.
It’s the menu she made.
Once we step inside her home that evening, she hands it to me—a sheet of white paper, folded over. The front of the menu reads: Tonight’s specials.
I arch a brow as I open it then peruse the offerings.
Ally with ribbon
Ally undressed
Ally bent over the couch
Ally naked and under you in bed
Also, wine, Bananagrams, hot chocolate, Skittles, and more treats are available à la mode, as are crazy conversations; ab explorations; long, lingering kisses along your jawline; nibbles on your earlobe because that drives you crazy; and any combination of blow job, hand job, 69, or anything else upon request.
By the way, I recommend starting with an appetizer of hot, wet kisses.
I close the menu. “Get over here.”
She comes up to me, and I cup her cheeks, stare into her sapphire-blue eyes, and brush my thumb along her jawline.
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