I’ve been taking Penny home for the last week, and I hate to admit it but I kinda look forward to it. It’s nice to have a bit of a routine and something to keep the days from blurring together. Even if half the time we’re sparring with each other and the other half we’re sitting in silence.
She did connect her phone to my car’s system though and has been playing music on the rides home. I hate to admit it even more that she has good taste in music. I’d like to think that my influence on her from years ago is part of that.
The breeze runs its fingers through my hair as I lean against my car, waiting for her to get done working. I fire off a quick text.
Me: I’m out front whenever you’re done
Penny: I’m off in 10
We exchanged numbers a few nights ago after she got off early and I wasn’t here to get her. I found her halfway to her apartment, walking alone in the dark, red hair a beacon beneath the full moon. My number has always been something I’ve been wary about giving out, but that night I demanded she put it in her phone and give me hers in return.
Just as I’m about to pocket my phone, it starts buzzing with my best friend’s name lighting up the screen. I briefly glance down the street, just to make sure I’m still alone, before bringing it to my ear.
“Thought you lost my number,” I say by way of greeting.
His full laughter echoes over the line. “Aw, don’t miss me too much, that can’t be good for you,” Nikolai says. “Besides, phone goes both ways.”
“No shit?”
“Always with the sarcasm,” he drawls. “What have you been up to lately?”
Not much, just reconnecting with my foster sister and driving her around because I can’t get her out of my head after years of suppressing her memory and now being fueled by her stubbornness that rivals even my own.
“Eh, the usual,” I answer. “How’s the album shaping up?” I try not to let any sort of hurt seep into my tone. He’s not under any obligation to have me back in the studio with him, but when he first started this solo project, he invited me in to work on a few songs with him.
But ever since that last session when his and Jane’s relationship came to light and they went all in on each other again, he’s been in the studio by himself. I respect the hell out of him for it, doing so much of the heavy lifting of the production side on his own when he never had to do that with the band, but I miss it. And miss him.
But clearly the inspiration from Jane has been enough that he hasn’t needed me anymore—or my help.
“It’s good, it’s in the final mixing stage,” he says. “Wanna come over and listen to it when I get it back?”
“If you want me to.” We used to drive around and listen to the final albums as a band, the four of us piled in Walker’s car while we drove around the hills and relished in what we created.
Never again.
“Of course I want you to. I want you to be the first one to hear it.”
“You mean before Jane?”
He pauses. “Alright, second one to hear it.”
I laugh softly, the demotion not stinging like I thought it would. I’ve accepted that Jane is his person, his number one priority, and that I’ll never be his first choice anymore. Nikolai is the best friend I’ve ever had, and I’m happy that after all these years, he and Jane sorted their shit out.
Besides, I got my closure with the two of them months ago.
“I told you about the release party, right?” he asks.
I search my memory and come up empty. It’s more likely that he forgot to tell me, rather than me forgetting. It’s not something I would’ve let slip from my mind.
He takes my silence as an answer. “Dude, I texted you about it last week!”
“You definitely didn’t.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Because I actually haven’t heard from him in almost two full weeks, but who’s keeping track?
He blows out a breath. “After Labor Day, I’m having a release party for the album, and I need you there.”
