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“It sounds like you’re human after all,” Jeremiah teases. “In all seriousness, I’m happy to hear you talking like this. You’ve worked so hard to build us up. All those TV appearances, all that touring, and you never once indulged the way we did. You deserve a little goddamn happiness.”
He breaks off with a shaky laugh. “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean to go on a rant. But I mean it. We care about you, all of us. We want you to be happy.”
I sit up, looking down at my hands, at my tattooed forearms. “But what about Andy?”
“What do you want to do?”
“I want to see her,” I growl. “I want to send her a message on Facebook and take her on a date. I want to see if this feeling stays, because if it doesn’t – and if she doesn’t feel the same – then fine, we can let it go. But the idea of ignoring her, of trying to stay away… I’ve tried, I really have, but it’s eating me up.”
It's a lie, what I tell him about letting go. I could never let Billie go.
“Then you should message her,” he advises. “I know Andy was your friend. I know there’s bad blood there. But if you really care about this girl, I think you owe it to yourself, and her, to do something about it.”
“But what about Andy?” I sigh.
“If he already hates you, what harm will it do?”
“A man should respect his woman’s father. I believe that.”
“What about a father respecting his daughter’s wishes? The whole time we’ve been talking, we haven’t even discussed what she wants. You said her dad basically dragged her out of the arena—”
“He was leading her. He had his hand on her. But I didn’t mean he was hurting her. Andy is a sanctimonious grumpy asshole, but he wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“But she clearly wanted to stay,” Jeremiah goes on. “I think it’s time you got her opinion on this. That’s my two cents, anyway.”
After hanging up, I walk aimlessly around my apartment. I haven’t written a song or played any music since the show, which is unusual for me. I’ll normally strum the guitar a little – enough to get my songwriting juices flowing, I’m no guitarist – or at the very least brainstorm ideas for songs.
But with Billie holding my thoughts captive, all I can think about is being with her. All I can think about is holding her, pulling her close, cradling her so tightly there’s no way to let go.
I find myself on my balcony, a crisp chill in the air, looking down on the city, my fingers tapping against the railing. I look across the skyline to her section of the city, partially lost in the fog, wondering where she is and what she’s doing, if she’s thinking of me as constantly as I’m thinking of her.
Screw it.
I grab my phone and find her Facebook page.
At first, I think of sending her a message, but then I press the call icon on impulse. I stare at her profile picture as the call begins, at that surprised smile on her face, wondering what she was writing.
I know so little about her. I need to fix that.
“Uh… hello?” Her voice comes out a little uncertain.
“It’s me,” I whisper. “Billie, it’s Aaron.”
“I can’t believe you’re calling me,” she says in that cute high-pitched excitable voice.
“I know your dad doesn’t want me to. I feel shitty about that, about going behind his back. I know I should respect his wishes—”
“He’s not the boss of me,” she interjects. “I love my dad and I’d never want to hurt him, but even my mom agrees he’s being unreasonable here. Though she did suggest…”
“What?” I ask, feeling about a thousand pounds lighter now that I’m finally talking with my woman.
“She said I should be careful. Rich men can do what they want, she said. And she also said… I shouldn’t tell dad if I see you again. Because when this ends, you’ll be gone and dad will still be there. I’m…sorry. I didn’t mean to blurt all that out.”
“It’s fine,” I say gruffly. “But I want you to know, I’ve never done anything like this before. I know that probably sounds like a line. But it’s the truth. Maybe rich men can get away with whatever they want. But I don’t want to get away with anything.”
“What do you want?” she whispers.
I want you. I want every part of you. I want your hips and those beautiful eyes and your surprised smile and your fingernails against my shoulders. I want to feel your breath hitch when I kiss you a second time.
“I want to take you on a date,” I say.
She pauses, and then goes so quiet I have to pull back the phone from my ear to make sure we are still connected. “Really?”
