She frowns. “Oh. Are you okay?”
Nope.
I dump the coffee in my cup and grab my keys. “I’m fine, Pace. Heading to Travis’s. Do you want to come?”
“I’ll stay here today, if that’s okay?”
“Sure, I’ll be back later.”
Pacey still refuses to talk about her situation with Ryan. I know she still wants things from his house, mainly the records he claims he doesn’t have. Our mom took her shopping for more clothes and necessities, so there’s nothing sheneeds, except a phone, which she said she’s not ready for yet. Honestly, that’s the only thing keeping me sane when I leave and she isn’t with me. Knowing he can’t reach her is probably driving him mad.
Well, good. Fuck him.
“Seriously,who runs this YouTube channel? It hasn’t been updated in forever, and don’t get me started on your TikTok.” Ellie looks pointedly around the garage at each of us.
We all turn to Tanner because social media has always been his domain—I didn’t even know we had a TikTok—and he doesn’t trust us with anything that’s not our own instruments.
He offers her a lazy shrug. She rolls her eyes, and her thumbs start typing something quickly on her phone.
She’s been helping us a lot lately, and I’m surprised at howprofessional she is when she’s here. She’s tried to avoid making eye contact with me. Thank fuck for that. The last thing I want is to be on her radar. It’s been a week since I’ve talked to Olivia, and I can tell she’s holding back on not cutting my balls off.
We tried to pay her. It wasn’t much, but she refused to take it. Said if we allowed her to use this on her résumé, she’d consider us even. She’s taken over our Instagram, forcing us to do ‘behind the scenes’ later this month. Claims it’ll help boost interest in the tour once it’s officially announced. She’s even cleaned up the website that was collecting dust in cyberspace.
“That should do it for today.” She drops her phone in her purse. “I’ll work on putting together some reels tonight and schedule them to be posted throughout the week. Engagement is good, already boosted fifteen percent since last week.”
“Thanks, we appreciate it,” Tanner tells her, and we all nod in agreement.
She looks at me for a split second before she turns and leaves.
“Have anything for me?” Tanner asks as soon as she’s gone. I shake my head, and he sighs.
I ignore him and start unpacking my guitar.
“Look, I know you have a lot going on and I’m sorry, man, but if you need help, let us help.”
He’s right and I know it, but I hate him for saying it.
“Piss off. I’ll have something finished this weekend.” Technically, I already have something, but it’s about Olivia, and I don’t feel like sharing it. I feel like tearing it to shreds and lighting it on fire. It hurts to look at.
I had several new songs nearly finished but kept abandoning them in favor of spending time with Olivia or writing about Olivia. It wouldn’t take much effort to finish them, but I’m not in the mood.
The next few days are the same blur. My body moves onautopilot, mindlessly going through the motions. Practice, eat, work, repeat. Sleep is fucking eluding me again. I lie there, staring at the ceiling until my eyes burn.
Feels like I’m going through goddamn withdrawals.
I try to focus on the tour, but Olivia consumes my thoughts. Same as it’s been since I met her. Always in my head, but now she’s not in my bed.
As someone who has struggled with insomnia pretty much my whole life, I still love my bed. Even if I don’t sleep, I want to lie in it, but it’s not the same now. It feels empty.
Every night, my fingers itch to call or text her. My feet push toward my truck, wanting to drive to her. Everything inside my head screams at me to do something, but I want to give her space to figure her life out without pressuring her to choose me and stay. If I call her or see her, that’s exactly what I’ll end up doing.
44
OLIVIA
It’s beentwo weeks since Penn and I last spoke. I realize this as I’m marking off the dates on my calendar. Graduation is right around the corner, and the steady gloom looming over me darkens more.
I haven’t crocheted anything in weeks. My blanket squares are sitting on their pegs, mocking me. I can’t even look at them. All they do is remind me of Penn, and how he treated my hobby like it was the most serious thing. He always complimented my work and pushed me to do more, to make it more than a hobby. If I had the energy to do more than breathe, maybe I’d do it.
