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“I won’t be back in today.”
“Thank you Lord sweet baby Jesus for that.”
33CRAIG
MY FAVORITE MEMORY
It’s raining, because of course it fucking is. Therefore, by the time I’m pulling up in front of the duplex and hopping off my bike, I’m soaked through. The downpour doesn’t let up as I jog up the front walk, and it doesn’t occur to me I haven’t had the chance to calm down one bit before I’m knocking on that absurd lavender front door. Which is the only explanation I have for the projectile word vomit after she opens the door and takes in my sopping-wet appearance.
“I took my bike to work,” I say, the words stumbling over one another to get out. “I’ve taken it every day ever since you told me how much you like it. Because maybe you’ll want to ride on the back of it again. In short, I’m pathetic,” I finish.
Lorelai tugs me in by the collar of my jacket.
“I saw your song,” I say, following her in. Still purging. “That was for me, right? You said a man, but not Drake.”
“Do you want it to be about you?” she asks softly, carefully, reaching for a small hand towel and blotting at my forehead.
I shake my head. “Don’t do that. Not this time. We always fucking do that, you know? We hedge. We skirt the truth with more palatable versions, and I can’t anymore.” I take a deep breath, tugging the towel from her hands and throwing it to the side. I step closer and take her slim shoulders in my hands. “I love you. I have for years. You don’t have to—I don’t expect you to say the same, but if there’s even a small chance, if that songwasfor me—then you need to know I love you and I want you.” I finish on a near whisper as if maybe I can take the last part back. Her mouth is open, her luscious lips full and ready to kiss as soon as she tells me I’m not making a huge miscalculation… but she’s silent.
Her silence carries on for a long painful moment before her eyes dart between mine and she sucks in a breath and holds up a finger. “I know you’re spiraling. I can see it all over your face. Stop spiraling, Huckleberry. Of course I love you. I’m just… this isn’t easy to say. Maybe it’s easier to sing. I don’t know. Hell, didn’t Arlo show you the album? He was supposed to.” She shakes her head. “Know what? Doesn’t matter.” She takes a deep breath and her dark eyes glue themselves to mine.
“I do love you, Craig Boseman. Head over ass, ‘Maybe I’m Amazed’ Paul McCartney in love with you, which you know is the best love song of all time.”
Despite the way I feel like I could literally jump off tall buildings right now, I make a face. Lorelai raises a single brow, her expression challenging, reaching for my soaking leather coat and pulling it down my shoulders. I take a halfstep even closer to her, and in a low voice I say, “Well, I’m ‘My Favorite Memory’ Merle Haggard in love with you.”
Lorelai’s hands freeze in their ministrations, allowing my coat to fall to the ground with a wet thwap. “Damn,” she whispers. And she closes in, pressing soft kisses along my jaw. “I love you always, but you should know that when you throw Merle at me, I just want to strip you down and drop to my knees and start—”
“Talking things through so we can start our relationship off more emotionally stable?”
Lorelai immediately stops her kissing and I wince, taking a tentative step back. “Did I fuck it up already?” I ask with a groan.
She bursts out laughing and pulls me farther into the apartment, picking up the towel I threw away earlier and tossing it back to me again. “You did not. You may have a point, actually. But,” she continues with a sexy grin, “I’m gonna stay over on this side of the room while you stay on that side of the room for the talking portion. Better for all involved.”
“Okay,” I agree. I stall for a few seconds, drying myself off with the little towel and trying to collect the thoughts leapfrogging over each other in my brain. “I guess to start, I wrote ‘Jonesin’’ about you. I know you knew I wrote it, and everyone in the world seems to know it’s about you, so ergo or whatever, but…”—I pull my hand out of my hair and let it fall to my side before meeting her eyes—“I wrote it after we slept together. And before you say anything, I know that was always supposed to be a onetime thing and I swear I never expected more from you. I wasn’t even honest with myself back then, but I wrote the song, obviously, in a rarevulnerable moment. And I never meant for Drake to get it, but it was in this notebook of lyrics I threw at him when I left and anyway…” I exhale. “Now you know for sure.”
“I meant what I said,” she tells me. “In the interview. The bridge is my favorite. Probably because I hoped it was about me, and it felt like a little piece that was untainted by Drake and everyone else. Just a secret message from you to me.”
I grimace. “That I put on social media.”
She shrugs one shoulder, seemingly unbothered. “We’re artists and musicians, Huck. We’re constantly figuring out how to walk the fine line between privacy and publicity. Besides, I did you one better and played my confession on national television.”
“Yes, thank you for that. I nearly had a stroke, followed by a spontaneous ejaculation. Arlo’s lost all respect for me.”
“I was trying to get your attention.”
“It worked. In the interest of clearing the air, I should also probably admit that I accidentally heard the first part of that song a week ago.” Her eyes widen and I nod. “Yeah. You were playing on the balcony when I walked up. You didn’t see me. It was dark out. I left before I heard the rest. Or maybe you hadn’t even finished it yet. In my defense,” I say in a soft voice, “I could never resist listening to you sing.”
Lorelai blinks and I can tell she’s running it through in her head, making quick work of the lyrics, because her eyes grow impossibly wider before she cuts off with a frustrated groan. “Huckleberry, no.”
“Yeah,” I repeat. “So that was my bad. I should have stuck around. But look how much more dramatic this has allbeen…” She bites her lip, her eyes dancing. “Also, that song is definitely being added to your album.”
“Jesus, we’re hopeless,” she says. “Maren did say something about people in love acting like idiots. I can’t wait to throw it back in her face one day. So is that why you ran off to the cabin. Some kind of self-loathing exercise?”
I sigh. “Something like that. But Dustin asked for some man-to-man time at the cabin, too. It wasn’t all self-loathing.”
“Convenient.” Lorelai smirks.
I grin, folding the towel in my hands. “He’s my favorite nephew for a reason.”
