“I almost forgot! I have the best news!”
“You won the lottery?”
“Almost. My favorite band is coming to Phoenix next week!”
“That’s cool,” I said, hoping the conversation would end there. It didn’t.
“They’re called the Rooftop Wanderers, and they’re all so hot!”
She held out her phone so I could see. I glanced at the picture but didn’t really focus on it. Four guys wearing jeans and collared shirts.
“The Rooftop Wanderers?” I mused. “That sounds kind of like Motown or something.”
“Their songs do have kind of a classic feel,” Piper responded, “but they’re definitely current. Listen to this song, it’s my favorite.”
She pulled up a song on her phone that I’d heard her play before. It made me feel comfortable and melancholy at the same time. And there was definitely something sexy and enticing about the lead singer’s voice. But I didn’t want to let on that I was interested in learning more about the band because then she’d probably be talking about them all night.
“Yeah, it’s nice,” I said, stirring the pasta in the pot.
“Nice? It’s to die for! You have to come to their concert with me.”
I shrugged. I could think of worse ways to spend my time. Plus, something like this would get Yvonne off my back. “Sure,” I said simply. “When is it?”
Piper let out a triumphant whoop and danced around the kitchen, making her long black hair fall into her face. I had to laugh at her. Sometimes living with Piper made it feel like I was still in college.
“Well, they have three shows,” Piper said excitedly. “The first one is sold out, and the second one is on the night whenI’ve promised to help my cousin pack up some of her stuff to move, so I’m going to the third one on the 25th. Are you busy that night?”
I chuckled. The concert was almost three weeks away. Piper always seemed to think I had some sort of thriving social life when really I spent most of my time at work and the museum. My pathetic schedule was wide open.
“Sure, I’m free that night,” I answered.
“Yes!” Piper squealed, giving me a tight hug. “This is going to be epic! I’ve got to figure out what to wear!”
And with that she turned and rushed back to her room. I sighed as I drained the pasta and divided it between two bowls, pouring on some sauce and adding in a few pieces of leftover grilled shrimp. At least Piper made my life exciting. I left her pasta on the counter and took mine into my room, electing to eat my dinner in peace.
I tried to clear my head as I ate, but I kept thinking about the conversation I had had with my mom the day before when she talked about my dad. I had never considered that both of my parents were to blame for their divorce. The things my mom said made me wonder if all of my relationships had failed because I hadn’t worked hard enough for them.
I set down my dinner and stared up at the ceiling where I had constructed dozens of constellations out of glow in the dark star stickers. I knew it probably looked juvenile, but I loved lying in my bed thinking about how there was something bigger and more intriguing out there than my boring life. My eyes wandered down to the shoebox on my desk that I still hadn’t thrown away.
For some reason, I had a sudden, desperate urge to read through those letters. I was drained and my resolve was weak, and so I gave in. In one movement I grabbedthe box and dumped its contents on my bed. The sight of his handwriting alone unleashed a flood of emotions that I had kept buried for years. I sat down on my bed and took a deep breath as I picked one of the letters from the pile and opened it. I couldn’t help but smile. It was from fifth grade when he had told me I was smart enough to be an astronaut because monkeys had gone to space and I was smarter than a monkey. The next one I read he was telling me a funny story about a woman at the store singing about a hamster. I think I had asked him to distract me from thinking about my parents’ divorce.
I read letter after letter, reminiscing about all the times I had looked forward to hearing from him and all the things we had shared with each other. We had told each other our dreams and crushes and embarrassing moments and heartaches. We had answered a dozen would you rather questions and had even had some arguments. Collin Finlay was the boy I had loved for longer than I wanted to admit. There were times in my life when it seemed as if he was the only thing that was constant. He had been with me when I was a brat and when I was rude and when I was dating someone else and when I was having the worst days of my life. He had always been there for me, his letters managing to show up right when I needed a friend. But he was always just a friend. He made that clear when I took a chance and told him I had feelings for him, and then he never wrote me back. It was crazy to think that a guy I had never met had been the one to hurt me the worst.
I grabbed my laptop and opened it, my fingers itching to look him up on social media, which was something I had nearly done hundreds of times. I was sure I could find him, and then it would be so easy to just casually reconnect. My fingers hovered over the keyboard for several seconds, butthen I quickly slammed my laptop shut. There was a reason he hadn’t written me back all those years ago. I didn’t need to reopen old wounds. I hastily shoved all the letters back in the shoebox and slid it under my bed. Then I threw my covers over my head and went to sleep without brushing my teeth. Gross.
Chapter Eighteen: Collin
I double checked the address before walking up the stairs and finding apartment 35C. I stared at the door, trying to figure out what I would say if she was actually there. We’d been in Arizona for three days, but we had been so busy with rehearsing and scheduling and doing our first show that I hadn’t been able to get away.
I heard voices coming from inside, so I quickly knocked before I changed my mind. I held my breath as the door opened, but the girl who answered was short with a round face and straight black hair tied back in a ponytail.
She smiled. “Hi. Are you one of the movers?” She asked, looking me up and down in a way that made me feel a little uncomfortable.
I peered through the door and saw a mess of boxes and belongings covering the floor. “Uh, no, sorry,” I replied. “I’m Collin.”
“I’m Tara,” she responded, extending her hand and holding on a little too long when I shook it.
“I was actually wondering if Glory Parker still lived here?”
