“Didn’t mean it like that,” he says. “You know how she gets when she’s in her head.”
I don’t look up.
“Yeah,” I mutter. “I know.”
That knot I felt listening to Lulu this week pulls tighter. Her voice comes back to me, achy and flustered through the phone:“What if we break and we can’t even talk to anyone about it? It’d be like we never existed.”
That one line’s been eating me alive ever since. I don’t want to be some ghost she has to pretend isn’t real. I don’t want to pretend that I haven’t wanted to carve us into something permanent since the second I touched her.
Eli’s shrugging off Lulu’s stress, thinking it’s because of the school pressure, but I know better. And I can’t bear the thought that I’m part of the reason.
I haul my bag over my shoulder. The guys are making plans to hit The Rink Rat, and Reid’s already grumbling about babysitting them. Normally I’d be there, but tonight, I can’t.
“Rain check,” I mutter.
Jake chirps, Chase boos, Eli flips me off, Reid glances at me once, knowingly, then looks away.
I let it all bounce off me, because there’s only one place I wanna be right now, and she’s right across the street.
***
As soon as I pull into my driveway, I’m out of the truck and across the street, fishing Lulu’s spare key from my pocket. She gave it to me before the roadie, casual as hell, like it was nothing. It felt like everything. It still does.
The house is quiet except for a thump overhead, drawers slamming, her muffled voice. I take the stairs two at a time and stop at her doorway.
She’s standing in the middle of the chaos, hair frizzed from yanking her hands through it, sequins glittering in piles around her feet. She’s barefoot, cheeks flushed, muttering at a dress.
Fuck, I missed her.
She doesn’t see me right away, too busy berating a feathered dress.
“You’re a bird,” she mutters, exasperated. “You’re literally a bird.”
A laugh breaks out of me before I can choke it back, and her head snaps up, eyes locking on mine.
And just like that, it hits. Ten days on the road, three states, a blur of flights and rinks and hotels— now her.My girlfriend. The girl who wrecked me over the phone with a single line and still doesn’t know how much I missed her, while all I can think is thatnothing touches this. Her, wild and messy and so goddamn real. The only thing tethering me back to earth.
Her lips part, breath catching. “You’re back.”
“Yeah.” My voice comes out rougher than I mean it to. I drop my bag by the door and step in close. “Miss me?”
The smallest smile curves her mouth. “Mhmm.”
I can’t not touch her. My hand slides along her jaw, and she immediately leans into it.
“Hi,” I murmur.
Her fingers fist in the front of my hoodie, tugging me down, and I kiss her. Quick at first, then deeper, greedier, because ten days is too fucking long.
By the time we break apart, she looks flustered for an entirely different reason than she was ten minutes ago. She groans, dropping her forehead against my chest. “I have nothing to wear.”
I grin against her hair, tightening my arms around her, feeling the ache still alive under my ribs. “Yeah, I can see that. Totally barren in here. Just tumbleweeds and dust.”
Her head whips up, eyes wide as she prods an accusatory finger into my chest. “Don’t.” She steps back, arms flying wide as she gestures to her entire wardrobe strewn across her floor and bed.
“This is serious, Logan! Everything is wrong. This one’s too short, this one makes me look like a disco ball, and this one”—she grabs a bright red mini dress up off the bed—“screams Christmas ornament.”
I fold my arms, watching her spin herself into a frenzy. “So, what I’m hearing is, you have a closet full of clothes, but nothing to wear. Truly a phenomenon no one’s ever experienced before.”
