Zack’s grandpa asked, “When the hell did that kid get so stubborn?”
Lacey came back in the dining room. “I think he got that fromyou, old man.” Her father raised his eyebrows, but there was a twinkle in his brown eyes. She asked, “Anyone want another piece of cake?”
And that was that—even though Braden and I talked about it more that night, we understood that, if things got worse with Zack, we’d probably have to arrange an intervention ourselves.
If we did, we’d have to find a professional because we were all clearly out of our league—and Zack was an expert at lying to himself.
CHAPTER 5
It wasn’t until early afternoon the next day that I got a text from Zack…the first one I’d gotten from him in a long time that wasn’t part of our group chat. When the notification first popped up on my phone, I thought maybe last night had made a much bigger impression than we’d realized.
And I couldn’t tell from the message:Hey, can we talk later?Opening it up, I stared at the words for a while, trying to decide what to say, but when I saw he was typing more, I waited. Finally, another message came through:Just you and me?
What I felt was a succession of overwhelming emotions—first, love and need. Did Zack still want and need me? Had this breakup brought him to his senses? Was he feeling contrite after last night’s confrontation?
But then my brain shifted gears, remembering how drunk, desperate Rock Star Zack had learned so easily to manipulate me. My cheeks burned hot as I recalled the many times I’d tried to talk to him about his drinking problem and how he’dshut me up with sex. And it had worked, even when I’d begun to realize his trick.
Letting out a long sigh, I watched my phone screen dim due to lack of activity. Not knowing Zack’s motive and feeling quite suspicious made it harder for me to decide how to respond. I could have told him no and, deep down, I suspected that would have been the right choice. But I wanted to see him, secretly relished the idea that it would be just the two of us, hoped against hope that maybe he’d come to his senses. Because, after all, it could actually be that. Maybe all of us telling Zack our fears about his state of mind had sunk in and he’d had time to reflect—and there was always the possibility that, with that realization, he’d know how badly he’d hurt me and maybe want to make amends.
But even my wishful heart knew that was a long shot.
So I had to be cautious in my reply—cold, even. After typing in my passcode, I touched the message box and then wrote my reply.What about?
There was no delay in his response.The band.
I hadn’t even considered that. Now as his words sunk in, I felt a chill, like a ghostly hand was gripping my spine, causing ice to spread throughout my body.
Was he second guessing our next move? Or was he ready to go forward and needed a trusted sounding board for things we hadn’t hashed out? I had so many questions and his topic had taken me completely off guard. If he truly wanted to discuss the band, I wouldn’t say no—not ever.
Okay. When and where?
I didn’t have to wait for his reply.Are you free now?
We decidedto meet at the diner on Main. Even though I knew it would take Zack longer to get there because he was coming from Dalton, I went straight there, hoping I could keep them from closing early with my presence.
Although I loved this diner, it was a miracle they’d stayed in business as long as they had—it wasn’t just because their closing hours changed arbitrarily from day to day, but because nothing else about it had changed in decades. Even the menus—not just the food choices, but the physical menus themselves—had been the exact same since the first time I’d eaten there. The plastic covering on some of them was yellowing and cracking in spots, and one of my middle school teachers had told me the club sandwich on the menu had been hisgrandfather’s favorite. And the smell of burned coffee and greasy eggs hung in the air, regardless of the time of day. Even the interior décor screamed of another era with its red-and-white tablecloths, red vinyl booths, and an old jukebox in the corner that I doubted even worked anymore.
But, even with all its faults, I loved this place.
I hadn’t eaten lunch yet but I wasn’t hungry. Still, I knew a food order would be a good incentive for them to stay open a little longer, considering the couple in the corner were getting ready to leave. I wound up ordering a grilled cheese sandwich and fries, but I asked for a cup of hot chocolate instead of a cold drink. Even though the weather was warmer, one of my fondest memories of this restaurant was drinking hot cocoa out of one of their dark brown plastic mugs that I suspected they’d had since the place had opened sometime in the nineteen forties or fifties.
I needed a little comfort—because my insides still felt raw due to Zack.
As I waited for him to show up, I couldn’t help but focus on the thought of him. Ofus.For so long, he’d been the onlyperson I’d ever wanted and I still wanted the idealized version of him in my head. And that was the problem. There was some stupid notion in my brain that still clung to a dream that would never match reality. Zack would never return to being the cute boy who aspired to be famous and it was pathetic of me to refuse to remove those lenses from my eyes. Grownup Zack had demons I’d never imagined when we were kids, and—as his friend—if I could help him destroy or at least quiet them, I absolutely would. I still cared about him as a person, as a platonic friend, and, so long as he wasn’t manipulating me, I would do my best to help.
But I had to give up the fucking fantasy in my head. That never would—nevercould—be. That wasallit was—pure fantasy, a dream in my head. Zack and I as a couple never even came close to the dream version I’d clung to for so long.
And, just as I’d come to peace with that, I heard the bell on the door tinkle, announcing his arrival in the diner.
As he walked in, despite everything I’d told myself, my heart swelled at his sight. The light behind him made him look taller somehow, and he looked like a god. There was no denying he was full rock star now. As he approached the table, my mouth dried as my eyes riveted to him. He wore a plain cowboy hat, a staple for a lot of people where we lived, his dark wavy hair behind his shoulders, his eyes covered by dark sunglasses, the epitome of celebrity. It didn’t hurt that he was wearing clothes he’d worn onstage a time or two—a black Nirvana t-shirt underneath a black vest and faded blue jeans with rips above the knees. On his feet, though, he wore black cowboy boots, and I suspected they were brand new.
He wasn’t wasting any time spending his portion of our advance.
But who was I to judge? We’d been working our asses off with little to show for it. If we’d have asked our teenagedselves what this moment in time would have been like, I would have pictured us lying in a pile of money like fall leaves, throwing the bills above our heads as the Benjamins rained down on us.
So naïve.
“Hey,” I said, hoping he wouldn’t notice his effect on me. My brain had laid it all out perfectly, but my heart was overriding my logic once again.
