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“Did you guys just get back together?” Dylan says, and Chase flushes. Aziza plays a rim shot.
I cough, unable to look at him. “Um. Should we try it with all of us?”
We work on my song for the next hour, creating something whole and cohesive from my notes, my lyrics. The entire process still astounds me. We have a few shows booked this summer, and Kat and Dylan want to do a Pacific Northwest mini-tour next year if we’re all still together.
We’re not fantastic, but we’re getting better, and we are a we. I’m part of a we that doesn’t include Sophie, and I’m not going to feel guilty about that anymore.
The sun hasn’t set quite yet when practice is over. It’s the end of April, the weather teasing us with a summer that won’t arrive for a few more months.
“My parents are letting me take driver’s ed this summer,” I say when Chase and I get in his car. We’ve started therapy, too. “So you won’t have to chauffeur me everywhere.”
“And if I like chauffeuring you everywhere?”
“I mean . . .” That’s not the response I was expecting. “I guess . . . you could still do that from time to time.”
The sun catches the gold in his hair. The Ramones are playing, but neither of us is singing along.
“I feel like we should enjoy the weather before the next sixty-five days of gloom,” he says, taking an exit that leads to neither of our houses.
“You’re such a Seattleite. Everyone here always feels guilty for not enjoying the sun when it’s out.”
“Because we get so little of it!”
I’m teasing, but my heart is racing. We should enjoy it, he said. “What did you have in mind?” I ask.
We wind up at a park overlooking the lake, and even after we get out of the car, I’m not entirely sure what Chase’s motivation is. If this means he’s forgiven me.
“The band . . . really missed you,” Chase says as we walk through the trees. Spring blooms are just beginning to come to life.
“Oh, did they?”
He stops in his tracks and taps my shoe with his. “Yeah. And—I did too. I missed you. Not just in the band. And playing that song with you today . . . I felt something incredible?”
“I did too.” I try to disguise the hopefulness in my voice and fail. Slowly I inch closer to him.
With a deep breath, he rakes a hand through his hair. “Nothing feels as good as when I’m around you,” he blurts. “Not playing music, not listening to music, not doing English homework. When I’m alone, listening in my car, I’m imagining you with some snarky comment or cool fact, or admitting you haven’t heard a certain artist, and I’d tell you all about it. Or you’d find something new for me.”
My heart is in my throat now. “I have a whole collection of songs saved up,” I admit. “For if-slash-when you’d want to, you know . . . Be friends again.”
“That’s not what I want,” he says, linking his fingers through mine. He tugs me close to him, and his other hand tilts my face until we’re a breath apart.
“Oh” is all I have time to say before our lips meet.
CHAPTER 37
SOPHIE
WHEN THEY FIND OUT I made it into the workshop, Montana and Liz take me to their favorite café and insist on buying me a gooey piece of chocolate cake to celebrate. I might adore them.
“You’re going to love it,” Montana gushes. “And it’ll be good for you to get away from everything here.”
They know what happened with Peter, though I haven’t talked about him as much I did with my sister. In an ideal world, I would’ve run to them and mourned the breakup. They would’ve watched bad movies with me, eaten ice cream. But I’m still trying to figure out this whole friendship thing.
“Yeah,” I say. “I think it will be.” Something tugs at my chest. High school and dance team—they’re both almost over. “I’m going to miss you both next year.”
“You’ll have to come visit us,” Montana says. “If you want to visit any colleges in NYC, you could totally stay with us.”
A pressure builds behind my eyes. “I would love that.”
