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I’m missing therealLorelai. She’s been fading in and out like a firefly dodging jars in June. A few months back here and I’m turning into the bullshit scared girl who let countrymusic execs run her out of town. I’ve got Drake showing up at my doorstep, making gooey eyeballs like he’s the fucking hero, and strangers online judging my every move, getting in my brain and making me second-guess my own name. I remember last year when Shelby’s ex Lyle was fucking around with her in the press and creating drama for the sake of whatever gets narcissistic jackholes like him off. My best friend finally got fed up and made the ballsy move of taking control of the entire narrative. She and Cameron fought back, using happiness and a big old dose of refreshing honesty.
I stare off into the distance at the rolling green hills upon green hills upon rocky outcroppings like the one I’m climbing and close my eyes, letting the early autumn breeze cool my face and whip away my morose thoughts.
Nothing for it. I can’t hang here any longer. Every minute that passes has got my muscles seizing up, and I can’t afford to be shaky on the shelf or I might as well just belay back down. Up to this point, I’ve always climbed alone, taking every possible precaution and preventive measure, while also pushing myself. But I’m out of shape. I’ve been spoiled by gym rock wall climbing and meandering hikes.
I make a vow to return next weekend, mentally carving out time for myself, and work to wrap this up as safely as possible.
As I do so, it occurs to me that maybe I don’t have to do this alone. Climbing, yes, but in other ways, too. After “Ohio,” I left town by myself. It was me versus the world. I’d been abandoned by everyone who was supposed to care.
But now I wonder if maybe I hadn’t been. After all, Craig found me.
And five years later, he keeps finding me.
I shove off in a rocking motion from heel to toe and make a grab for the top of the rocky ledge. Before gravity drags me under, I swing a leg up and over in one motion while curling my biceps. I’m too close and clumsier than I used to be, though, and scrape my collarbone and breastbone as I pull up, leaving a piece of me behind on the sharp rock.
I make it to my knees and stifle my groan, holding a hand to my chest to soothe the sting, but also to relish the pain. It feels familiar and real and possibly like the start of something better.
(EIGHT YEARS EARLIER)
It’s one of those rare nights when the stars align and Drake and I are in the same town at the same time. His most recent tour wrapped over the weekend, and I leave for mine in three days. It’s not enough time to travel anywhere and get away from it all, but it’s enough time to hole up inside his small apartment for some nostalgic songwriting and long-overdue lovemaking.
If he was here, anyway.
I check my watch again, holding back a sigh, and Huck grunts over his notebook, making a note in his chicken scratch before sticking his pencil over his ear with a sly smirk. “Relax, Lorelai. I can practically hear your repressed hormones from over here. You know Powers always needs to debrief the minute we get home from a tour.”
“For hours?” I scoff. “It’s been at least four, and anyway, you’re here. Doesn’t he need to debrief you, too?”
Huck lifts a shoulder, strumming once, a loud discordant sound, on his guitar. “Nope. Just the talent.”
I roll my eyes. “Fuck off. You know you’re as much the talent as he is. He knows it, too.”
Huck raises a single dark eyebrow.
“Even if he won’t admit it out loud.”
The other brow goes up. Another loud strum.
“Even upon threat of death.”
He snorts.
My phone buzzes with a text alert and it’s embarrassing how quickly I reach for it.
DRAKE: Don’t wait up, baby. Need to schmooze some bigwigs from the label. Promise I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.
Fucking hell. I haven’t ridden a dick in months. Even phone sex has lost its appeal, and I’m supposed to leave for another four weeks.
This was the dream, Lorelai. Always. You are living the dream. Right now. The sacrifice to your vag is worth it.
“Thank you for your service,” I mutter under my breath to my poor neglected vag before typing a response.
LORELAI: You better. You have a lot of ground to cover and only two days to do it.
He gives my text a thumbs-up and I throw my phone down with a growl.
“I’ll give you a thumbs-up.”
I scramble to my feet, brushing my hands down my jean-clad thighs. “I need a drink. What do y’all have around here?”
