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“I feel like she showed you more than a ‘thing or two.’” She nudged me with her arm, her punch shifting in her glass a little. The area she touched was kind of warm after, but I ignored it. Her eyes warmed. “Seriously, thank you for that. You saved my ass.”
“You would have gotten there,” I said. She was an artist, and even if she did get some stage fright, she would have pulled it out. I nudged her. “You just needed a nudge.”
“I needed more than that.” Her stare lingered where I’d brushed her too, and that might have been because I didn’t pull away like she had. I probably should have, but what could I say? I was a selfish fuck.
She let me stay in the end, then took down her drink like it was a strong shot. I didn’t call attention to that either, but wanted to address something else that had happened. My fingers touched the banister. “Can I ask you something?”
“You don’t seem like the type to ask for permission,” she said, her dark eyes teasing. She chuckled. “More like an easier-to-ask-for-forgiveness kind of guy.”
She was right about that, but I did ask when it mattered. When it meant something. I braced my arms. “Why were you crying before? After the performance, I mean.”
She blinked up, surprised by my question. Her lips lifted. “You noticed that, huh?”
Hard to miss as that shit rattled my insides. Something about seeing this girl in pain did something to me. That was ironic considering the conditions in which we spent lots of time together in the past, but I didn’t like seeing her suffering.
I guess I was kind of like that with everyone in a way. My buddies joked that I was an empath, and I called them assholes until I looked up what that meant. It kind of made sense.
“It probably sounds silly, but I was just happy.”
I shifted in her direction. “Happy?”
She nodded. “I was happy that I still like what I’m doing.” She laughed a little. “Relieved, I guess. I love music, and I was relieved I love it.”
Her smile turned sad, and I moved in closer. “Do you not always love it?”
This was probably an invasive question, but again, I had her talking. This girl legit was an enigma sometimes to me. She was guarded and worse than some of my friends. I didn’t consider myself an open book either, but when I felt comfortable, I opened up with people.
Aspen didn’t do that. Not really. Her throat flicked. “I guess sometimes you just forget, Thatcher.”
She pushed off the banister, and I followed her with my eyes. I wanted to push her more, but worried doing so might achieve the opposite effect. Instead, I got out my phone.
“We should probably text Phil,” I said, scrolling to his name. “I can give him the access code to up here so he can be nearby.”
“You seriously don’t need to do that.”
“Why?”
“Because I lied, Thatcher.”
My eyes drew up, my attention. What Aspen said came out in a fit of laughter, but nothing about her expression read funny.
If anything, it was sad.
She lifted and dropped her shoulders. “I lied, so I fired him. It felt silly wasting his time and mine. I don’t need his services. Not really.”
I didn’t understand, but I put my phone away, and Aspen did the oddest thing.
I watched the most rod-straight posh girl I’d ever seen sit on the floor in a white gown. Like… sat on the floor and didn’t mess with her dress after. She crossed her legs beneath her, and when she put her head in her hands, I sat beside her. I didn’t give a shit about my outfit. It was rented and who gave a shit?
“I lied about the whole thing. The threats?” she stated, and my mouth parted. She lifted her head. “It was all bullshit and a way to save face. I froze at Carnegie Hall… a dream I’d literally been working toward my entire life.” She shook her head, tears in her eyes again. “I cracked under pressure, so I made up a lie. If people thought I’d croaked because I was scared, that would make sense. If my mom thought I’d failed because of that, that would make sense.”
My mind circulated over the information. Especially the last part. Her voice had changed when she mentioned her mother. “So none of it was real? The letters…”
“No, none of it.”
“Why? I mean.” I paused, staring away. “Were you just embarrassed? People get stage fright all the time, snowflake. It’s not a big deal.”
“No, it’s not,” she said, that haunted smile on her face again, and I didn’t like that. It wasn’t like the other one. The real one. She lifted her legs. “It wasn’t stage fright, though.”
