“I got our check,” I say, because it’s the only words I can muster. Luke seems confused by my response. His face drops, looking at me and then our food, so I add, “I got us boxes, too.”
“You don’t want to stay?”
I look around the room, the way every inch of the place feels crowded and cramped. Someone else steps up to the mic, and music begins to play, but it all feels too loud.
“Tired,” I whisper, because it feels like my words are going to fail me. A million thoughts are running through my mind still, and I can’t keep any of them straight. I need to ask Luke what the song meant. I know what it means. At least I think I do. But what if I’m wrong?
What if the song was just that? A song. No hidden meaning. No profession of love. Just a song that he happened to know how to play on the guitar. A song he knew would get a round of applause from the audience.
When I look back to Luke, he isn’t focused on me. He’s staring at the food at our table. I want to reach my hand out, run my fingers under his chin until he’s looking at me. I need him to really look at me, so I can know.
But I don’t. My hand stays glued to my side.
Chapter 37
Luke
I’m contemplating calling Cassie and letting her know she was wrong—that she encouraged me to do something big and make my feelings utterly clear, and I only humiliated myself in the process.
I stood on stage, sang Harper a love song, and she still didn’t get it. I wrote her a love song, and when I go back to the table, she lets me know that she got the check.
I think even Cassie would be shocked by how epic of a fail that was.
When I first get to the table, Harper looks mortified. Her eyes are wide and panicked, like she was the one on stage making a fool of herself, not me.
I’m afraid to even look at her.
I’m pretty sure I’ve just ruined our friendship. If I thought her reading Wes’s text message was bad, then I had nothing to fear until I got on stage and sang my heart out. At least I could talk my way out of the text message.
This time, I was foolish enough to make my feelings blatantly clear only to have them get rejected by Harper.
I sit across from her, thankful for the next person standing on stage, singing an upbeat song I don’t recognize. When I dare a glance over at Harper, her eyes are glued to the stage. Her face is flushed, and if I look closely, I can see her biting her lip. It’s a habit I’ve seen her do whenever she’s trying really hard not to cry.
Is she mad at me or just embarrassed for me?
“Here you go,” the waitress says, putting the check on the table and handing me a box for our food.
“Thanks,” I say, giving her my credit card. If Harper wants to get out of here, let’s not drag this out longer than necessary.
The woman takes my card and walks to the register.
Harper’s still staring at whoever’s on stage, like she wants me to vanish into thin air.
I really screwed this one up.
I’m not sure what I expected to happen after singing Harper the song, but it wasn’t this. I didn’t need her to fawn over me when I got back to the table, but I thought maybe if she felt the same way...
What I was really hoping for was that Harper would jump into my arms and we’d kiss, starting a new beginning after twenty-two years of friendship.
“You sounded really good,” Harper says, turning to me.
The voice comes so suddenly that it takes me a moment to realize it’s Harper talking to me.
“Thanks.” By the time I turn to her, she’s looking away again.
I want to ask her if she liked the song, to force her to confront this thing between us, but the waitress comes back with mycard.
“You two are all set.” She hands me my card and the receipt. “Have a great night!”
