Page 33 of Love Felt Like This

“Thank you” is all I can find to say.

She gives a slight smile but doesn’t linger. “Um, by the way…I leave tomorrow.”

Cue record scratch.

“You what?”

She winces. “I’m sorry. I should have mentioned it.”

“Where are you going?”

“Home,” she says. “Well, my hometown,” she amends, as if it’s not the same thing. She gestures to Bernie Bird. “I kind of spent all my savings on this guy here.” She takes his arm and waves it in my direction. It’s sweet. “I can’t stay in LA. I know that might make our process a bit slower. But we can always do video calls. And—”

“I’ll just come with you.”

Beverly freezes. “What?”

I close my eyes, frustrated at my own impulsiveness. Maybe I shouldn’t have invited myself. But I need this gig. I need to work with her. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen. And anywhere must be better than a place where random camera guys stalk me while I’m working or where I have to circle the block a time or two so that I’m not followed.

“I could come with you,” I say, a bit more of a suggestion this time.

She blinks. “You don’t even know me.”

“I’ve lived on a tour bus with strangers who became my best friends. This can’t be much different.”

A slow smile rises on her cheeks. “Are we gonna become best friends, Griffin Harvey?”

“Maybe,” I answer. “I’m sorry, by the way. I’ve been told I’m…uh…blunt. What I meant to say is that I need to work on my music. Getting out of town to focus wouldn’t be a bad idea. How long do you plan to be there?”

“I have to pitch in March. So…assuming that goes well…I guess until then.”

“I can do that,” I answer. “I go on tour mid-March.”

Beverly cocks her head in thought. I almost enjoy watching her brain churn. Like I can see the gears shifting through each saw of her teeth over her bottom lip.

“You’re serious,” she says.

“I think I’d like to be somewhere else for a while,” I say. “Away from bozos with cameras—”

She grins. “Bozos?”

“Bozos stalking me in restaurants,” I finish with a half smirk. “A place to breathe.”

She blows out a breath, puffing out her cheeks. “Well…my hometown would be the place.”

There seems to be a lot loaded in that heavy exhale. “Is that a bad thing?”

“I mean…it kinda closes for the winter?” It comes out like a question.

“Closes?”

“We’re in the mountains, so it gets a little iffy to go to the top after about November. People can go. It’s not like we close the roads. But not a lot of tourists drop by, so we close pretty much every business. It’s a ghost town.”

A ghost town. Now that’s not a bad idea. A town without people to gawk. Without cameras.

Just me, Ava, and my music.

“So if you’re looking for a place to escape…” she continues, letting the words fade with a shrug.