Sweet dreams, Barbie.
20
PENN
Sleep isn’t happening.
I grab my notebook and pencil and spread out across my couch, staring at the blank lines until they start to blur. Then I rub my eyes and stare some more.
I tap the pencil on the page, creating a beat. My head bobs along, and I kick my foot against the leg of my table, imitating Liam’s drums. Closing my eyes, the sound of my guitar and Tanner’s bass floats in, an idea for a chorus popping up next. The pencil glides across the page, but my eyes stay shut. I tweak and adjust, humming along until I find something that sticks.
I can already tell this song is going to be somber. Over the years—mainly after my dad died—our sound started shifting. Everything I was writing was so fucking tortured. I try to balance it out so everything’s not so damn depressing, but I can only write what I feel. What I know. And lately, that’s pain and anger.
I write verse after verse, along with some notes, and call it anight. Being able to get somethingon paper after so long is a relief. I was starting to worry that I lost it.
I check my phone, though I don’t know why. It’s after three in the morning. I doubt anyone else I know is awake right now.
When I unlock my screen, several Instagram notifications greet me. I swipe them away, knowing they’re likely DMs from girls. Ever since the NYE show, our social media has taken off. The videographer Tanner found did a hell of a job on the video of our performance. Tanner uploaded it to our YouTube channel the next day, and in a week, it’s gotten over 100,000 views and hundreds of comments. That’s the most traffic we’ve had on our channel.
I check my sister’s page while I have the app open, but of course, no updates.
My eyes are burning. I drag my ass to my bed and fall face down.
I barely gotfour hours of solid rest last night. I woke up in a cold sweat after a nightmare. It’s been years since I’ve had one of those, but thinking about Pacey right before bed probably triggered it. I do my best to avoid those thoughts and shake off the fatigue. I’m actually in a good mood today.
After I shower, I make myself a cup of coffee and throw some eggs in a skillet. I finally have a free day and I’m spending it wisely, taking Olivia out tonight. I’ve been too busy this past week, but Tanner is giving us a much-needed break.
I’ve been thinking about where I could take her. I was shocked that she showed up at the NYE show, but fuck, it felt good knowing she came to see me. Even if she pretended she didn’t, we both knew the truth.
She’s playing hard to get, but nothing worth having is easy.
I decided on something low-key and fun. Something that will hopefully loosen her up and help her relax. I’m only slightly worried she’ll think it’s lame. I’m shoveling eggs into my mouth when my phone vibrates on the counter next to me.
Travis:
Are you up??
Penn:
Yup
Travis:
I need a ride.
I sigh, wolfing down the rest of my breakfast quickly.
Penn:
Send me your location
I’m somewhere in the middle of downtown, at an apartment complex, when Travis hops in my truck, looking like roadkill. I stare at him for a good ten seconds. His clothes are wrinkled, his hair a fucking mess, his eyes are bloodshot, and he reeks of beer.
“Can you not?” he growls, laying his head against the window and shutting his eyes.
Instead of giving him shit, I drive to his house. Not only did Travis’s parents buy him his house before they moved to Florida, but his dad also left him an old car. It needs some repairs, but he hasn’t bothered with it because it’s expensive.
Travis sleeps the whole way back, and when I pull up to his house, I punch his arm.
