“I’m going to get my own apartment. Be an adult.”
“That sounds like a good idea.”
He ducks his head. “I found an apartment not too far from your parents’ house.”
Before I can say anything to that, Violet comes up to us, holding my clutch purse. “I’m so sorry to interrupt, but your phone has been buzzing. I thought maybe it was important.” She holds my purse out to me.
Micah steps back. “You should check that.”
I reluctantly take my phone out. The text is from my mom, and as I read it, my stomach drops.
Hi sweetheart! Change of plans—Dad and I are cutting the tour short. We’ll be home in eight days instead of after New Year’s. Can’t wait to hear about your semester! Love you.
The blood drains from my face. Eight days? They’ll be home soon, and I haven’t told them about switching to online classes. Or about becoming Micah’s manager. Or about any of the huge changes I’ve made.
I stuff my phone back in my purse and hand it back to Violet. “Thanks so much.”
“Is everything okay?” she asks.
I nod. “It’s fine,” I choke out.
“Okay, good.” Violet pats my shoulder. “You two keep dancing. I’ll take this back to the table.” She scurries away with my purse.
Micah pulls me to him, and we start swaying to the music again. “What was that about?” His voice is concerned. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“My parents,” I whisper. “They’re coming home early.”
“Oh.”
I try to take in a breath, panic rising in my chest. Micah stops dancing, his brow furrowing with concern. “What’s wrong?”
“I haven’t told them anything. About being your manager, changing to online school… any of it.”
“Cricket, it’s going to be okay. They’ll understand?—”
“No, they won’t.” The words come out sharper than I intended. “My father especially. He’s going to think I’m throwing my life away.”
Micah grips my arms. “It’s going to be okay, Cricket.”
I look around the reception, suddenly feeling claustrophobic. “Can we… can we get some air?”
Without waiting for an answer, I head toward the exit that leads to a small balcony overlooking the Strip. Micah follows, his hand warm on my lower back as he guides me outside.
The December air is crisp and cool, and I wrap my arms around myself, more from nerves than cold. Micah misunderstands and shrugs out of his suit jacket, placing it over my shoulders. I pull it tight around me just to ground myself. To smell his scent wrapped around me.
“Cricket,” Micah says gently, turning me to face him. “Are you sure it’s not the right time to stand up to your father?”
I take a shaky breath. “I want to. I really do. It’s just… he controls my tuition money, so…” I shrug helplessly. “And now I’ve not only switched to online classes without asking, but I’ve agreed to manage your career instead of focusing on getting a ‘real job’ in marketing.”
“Managing my career is a real job, Cricket. You’re incredible at it.”
I laugh bitterly. “Try explaining that to my father. He thinks anything related to music or entertainment is frivolous, just like my writing. He’ll see it as me chasing another pipe dream.”
Micah shakes his head. “He runs a successful business. Maybe he will see what you’re doing as a business too.”
I hesitate. “Maybe, but I doubt it. For some reason, he’s insisting that I go into marketing.”
“You got me signed to a major label. I did my research. You should get a nice check when my money comes.”
