“No, I just finally read all his. I should text him. But it’s . . .” I check the display on my phone. “Eleven twenty.”
“Girl, don’t even act like he would mind. Man is probably crying in his beer waiting for you to call.”
“Or he’s with her.”
“What are we doing, ladies? Crashing out?” Noah ambles into the room looking every inch the drunk frat boy. Seth follows on his heels, steadier on his feet. Noah plops onto the end of the bed next to Lilly, and Seth flops on the other side of me and wedges himself between me and the pillows at the head of his bed. That they all treat this as normal makes my radar. Maybe this is what my life would be like if I’d gone away to college. A coed friend group I feel comfortable lounging on abed with—in the middle of the night. Noah and Lilly seem perfectly at ease—although that may have more to do with alcohol-lowered inhibitions.
“My girl, Ev, wants to go home,” Lilly announces to the ceiling.
“Naw, not tonight. Tomorrow,” Seth says as he rolls toward me, snakes his arms around me and pulls my back against him. I’m facing Lilly, who turns toward me as Noah does the same to her.
She pets my cheek. “Tomorrow,” she says, smiling drunkenly. Lilly’s eyes drift closed, and her breathing becomes rhythmic almost instantly.
Seth and Noah seem to pass out too.
I can’t sleep with Seth’s warm breath heating my shoulder blade, penetrating the thick fabric of the hoodie, his arms snugged around my middle. I know I crossed a line earlier—with the kiss. But without the alcohol haze, I can’t. I only want Julian.Or Jayce?My stomach pitches, my chest tightens. I count my breaths to distract myself from the panic, but even the calming trick only reminds me of him. How did I let him become my whole life? Had my parents’ story taught me nothing?
My phone buzzes against my chest. I tilt it to see the screen, but I already know it’s him.
Julian:I miss you, sweet girl.
Julian:So much.
I want to text him back. But what do I say?I miss you too, but I don’t even know who the fuck you are. Oh, and btw, are you happy your dead girlfriend is back? Do you miss me more than you missed her? Also, would you still miss me now if you heard my train of thought about a girl who supposedly died? Would I still be your “sweet girl”? Or what ifyou knew I let a frat boy kiss me? That I’m lying in his arms right now?I blink the sting of tears away and wonder if I can get an Uber this time of night at the beach. I want to go home.
***
Turns out you can get an Uber anytime in Pismo, but the wait was “a little longer than usual.” I am on the road back to Blue Lake within an hour. I leave a note for Lilly at Seth’s and take my Uber back to her apartment to get my bag. I leave her key (that I took from her bag) hidden under a plant on her doorstep and text her where it is. A perfectly safe practice in Blue Lake. I hope that’s true in SLO. I also hope my text doesn’t wake her up. It’s 12:33 a.m. and my map says I’ll be home at 5:01 a.m.—the normal time Julian wakes up every morning. But nothing about right now is normal. Will he be awake? Home? With her?
Cranking the volume button on the steering wheel, my old-school playlist pierces my ears. I take a gulp of the gas station coffee and merge onto the freeway. I’m counting on the bitter black liquid and Bon Jovi, GNR, Aerosmith and about ten others to keep me awake for the next four and a half hours. I’m also counting on the songs I know by heart to keep me singing and out of my spiraling thoughts as I drive. First up, “Runaway.” Next, “You Give Love a Bad Name.” Is it me or is my shuffle on my ass like a pissed off parent? But then it gives me “I’ll Be There for You” and “Who Says You Can’t Go Home.” That’s better. But when Aerosmith serves up “I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing,” I tap thenextbutton on the steering wheel. I can’t with that song. Notright now. I can’t start bawling driving down the highway alone in the middle of the night.
That sounds like a country song.Arguably not my best plan. But I couldn’t stay there either, pretending that cuddling with the new hot surfer BFF was gonna get me any sleep.I just want to rewind back to when my life made sense. Back to when Taya was still dead? What the fuck is wrong with you? Just listen to the songs. Sing the songs.A therapist encouraged me to sing or hum songs after my dad passed—when my panic attacks started. She said it stimulates the vagus nerve, which regulates the body’s stress response. I guess that was when I started building my old-school playlist—my parents’ favorite music. I already knew a lot of the words because they’d always have it on in the garage—my dad’s game room.
The last hour of my drive, I struggle to stay awake. My eyelids droop. The cold air blasting on my face almost doesn’t work anymore. It’s freezing out, but I roll the windows down. The air smells like home. That lulls me more in my exhausted state. By the time I’m rolling into the driveway, I can’t stop my eyes from filling. Seeing his Jeep makes my chest ache. I don’t take my bag. I just walk to the door and slide my key into the lock. But the door isn’t locked. My lips arch in a smile. He tracked me. He knew I was coming home. I swipe the tear that escapes.
The house is quiet when I walk in. I slip off my Dunks in the entryway and pad silently down the hall and up the stairs. I stop in the doorway of the master bedroom. He’s lying on his side, facing the door, his phone next to him on the bed. His eyelids are soft, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. I sneak into the bathroom to brush my teeth—the stale taste of coffee bitter on my tongue.When I come back out, he hasn’t moved. I swipe the hoodie—Seth’s hoodie—over my head and drop my jeans on the floor. As gently as possible, I lie down on the bed, pulling the blanket over me. I want to snuggle into him. I want his arms around me more than I want air in my lungs, but I don’t want to wake him. I don’t want to have to talk about the circus that has become our life. Not yet. Right now, I just want sleep. I’m careful not to touch him or otherwise disturb the tranquil space. I even slink the blanket up my frame slowly, careful to avoid his body. My heart is pounding so loudly in my chest, I think he must hear it—or feel it. I take deep breaths as quietly as I can and exhale them slowly. My heart rate drops to a steady thud and my eyelids droop within minutes. The last thing I remember is feeling his arm across my ribs, pulling me to him. I can’t open my eyes. They’re too heavy. He feels too good. With a long sigh, I go under again.
Chapter 28
Julian
After my last text to her at 11:30 last night said “delivered” right away, telling me her phone was on, the text bubble pops up telling me she’s reading it. The dots move for a few seconds like she’s typing then disappear. I check her location. It’s still enabled, so I can see that she’s in Shell Beach now that her phone is on. With Lilly.Phew.I exhale, relieved. She could’ve turned her location off so I couldn’t see where she is, but she didn’t. It gives me hope.
Stretching out on our bed, I place my phone next to my head, turn the ringer up and lay my hand down on top of it. I’m exhausted, but I want to hear it if she texts or calls me back. I can’t keep my eyes open any longer. At least in sleep, maybe I won’t ache for her and worry if she’s safe. I’m physically and emotionally drained. I crave oblivion, a void of nothingness. That’s the last thing I remember until . . .
Sunshine. But not just sunshine. Salt. Sand. Alcohol? But it’s her. I know it is. She feels the same in my arms. Familiar. She’s home.I try to open my eyes, but I haven’t truly slept in over twenty-four hours. I feel drugged. All I can do is hold on and pray it’s not a dream. I’m not surewho or what I’m praying to, but I plead in my unconscious state for her to stay. And I thank them for bringing her back to me.
Thank you. Mmm. I kiss the spot behind her ear I love so much.I missed you. Wait. I tighten my grip around her. Don’t go. Her hand grazes my arm. Stay. I feel her slipping away. No! Ever!Blinking against the bright light, I try to focus, get my bearings. And I see her.
Chapter 29
Everly
His lips on that spot behind my ear wake me up. I’m disoriented and still depleted, but it all rushes back. I’m home. I have no idea what time it is, just that it’s later based on the light pouring in through the wall of glass.
His speech is garbled with sleep. “I missed you.”
I move slightly to gauge if he’s truly awake.
