I excuse myself to the bathroom so I can take a moment to decompress. I’m almost there, nodding and smiling at some random people who tell me it was an incredible set, when Carter appears in front of the bathroom door.
An ambush.
“Hi,” he says, adjusting the bill of his Knicks cap. “And sorry. That I’m here. I get that you don’t want to interact with me for... reasons. Which remain mysterious. But I just wanted to say that was ridiculously awesome.”
“Um. Okay. Thank you.”
“And also, like... Was that song about me?”
Shit.
“Which one?” I ask, like an asshole.
“Come on.”
“Oh, the last one, you mean? About the stuck boy? That’s actually based on...” I try to think fast. “ANew Yorkerarticle I read. About this kid who survived an earthquake. In Morocco.” This feels like an offensive lie. I dunno, I’m scrambling here!
Carter narrows his eyes. “Interesting. I tried readingThe New Yorkeronce. It overwhelmed me.”
I laugh without meaning to. It just pops out. “You always hate when I bring upThe New Yorker,” I mutter.
“Ialwayshate that?”
“Uh.”
“So we do completely know each other!”
“Dammit.” I shuffle to the side to get around him, but he grabs my hand before I can.
Oh.
His fingers. Brushing the back of my hand.
I pull away.
“Sorry,” Carter continues. “I just— I could use someone in my life right now who knows me. And knows that I hateThe New Yorker.”
This is not good. Vulnerable Carter is my kryptonite. I can’t look directly into his eyes. I might start making out with him. In the same room as Chord. In the same room as mymom.
But if I don’t cut this off now, he’s just going to keep trying. Finding me at school. Coming to more of our shows.
“I can’t be in your life, Carter, okay?” I say, eyes trained somewhere to the right of his Nikes. “You’re right. We know each other. We dated. Last year. But we can’t do it again. I really can’t! I thought maybe I could save you, but—”
“Save me? Like, get me unstuck?”
“Yes, but it didn’t—”
“How were you going to do that?”
“Just by... It doesn’t matter, it didn’t work!” In my peripheral vision, I can see Chord staring over this way, deciding whether or not to intervene. I hope he doesn’t. Against my better judgment, I look into Carter’s eyes. “If I tell you everything I know, will you please stop?”
“Stop what?” Carter asks, desperation in his voice that reminds me of our last night together in his car. “I just want to know what you know! Please.”
“I mean, I don’t really know anything. It’s just, like, a theory.”
“So tell me the theory!”
I put my hand on a small table nearby to steady myself. Thetriumphant vibes from the set are a distant memory. I can’t believe we have to have this conversation again.
