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“How did it g—”
“Good. I gotta go, Luna. Text me, okay?” I all but sprint to my car, not waiting for a response from Luna.
Slamming the door behind me, I instantly call Jackson. My brother has always been the person who could give me perspective after a bad audition or a shitty day.
“Hey, bug, what’s up?” He sounds distracted.
“I completely bombed it, Jackson.” My voice cracks, but I am doing nearly everything in my power to prevent myself from breaking into a full-out sob.
“I’m sure you didn’t bomb it,” Jackson says before whispering something to someone with him as he tries to muffle a chuckle. “Babe, I promise, I’ll be out there in a sec.”
“I fucked up my vocal audition, colossally.”
“Uh-huh.” He’s clearly further from the phone than before as I hear rustling, but no actual response to my words.
“I don’t know what happened, my voice just—”
“I hate to cut you off, Han, but I really need to go.”
My stomach sours, but I try not to reveal my disappointment. “Okay.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
The line goes dead and I drop my phone in the passenger seat, at a complete loss. I don’t know who else I could call without feeling like I was annoying them.
So I sit in my car…and cry.
SEVENTEEN
LIAM
It’s been years since I’ve been to Vail.
We used to come every Christmas, but in recent years we have all been busier and fitting in the summer trip is enough of a struggle to get everyone together at the beach house. Although we’re still a few weeks early for the holiday crowd, it feels just like it did when I was a kid.
Something about the crisp winter air makes me feel alive, unlike the muggy southern heat of Atlanta. Even now, in the second week of November, we left a temperature of around seventy. It should start to dip a bit soon, thank God.
The group arrived at the house early this morning and were out on the slopes within an hour, our bags a heap on the floor in the entryway.
I trip as I walk in the door, yelping on instinct. “Shit!” I throw my shoe off and grab my sock-clad foot to apply pressure to my toes. “Who the hell left their bag right in front of the door?”
A mixture of “Not me,” “I don’t know,” and “NotI” fills the rooms, which only irritates me further. Everyone filters in out of the cold with Hannah at the back of the pack.
“Or you could watch where you’re going,” she says as she rights the suitcase that caused me to trip.
Of course it was Hannah’s.
I wouldn’t say things have been weird since the bar the other day—things have been nonexistent. Even at work, she would only communicate with me via Teams or email, or when feeling exceptionally petty she’d send messages via Jackson, who mentioned he felt like something was off, but lucky for me didn’t question the why of it all. Fortunately, my tumultuous past with Hannah is actually working to my benefit.
“Or maybe you could be courteous to others rather than being rude for no reason.”
I expect a snippy remark, but all I get is a shrug as she walks away, closing her bedroom door behind her.
With everyone here, unfortunately most of us don’t get our own room. Gen and Jackson took one of the guest rooms, Gabe is on the pull-out couch in the office—because, surprise surprise, him and Kara broke up again—Sage and Hannah are in one of the guest rooms, Savannah and Wes are in my parents’ room, and I’m in my room.
I could have offered Gabe to stay in my room, but why would I do that when there is a perfectly good pull-out in my dad’s office?
