My fingers are shaking as I button up my respectable jeans and belt the fuckers shut. “I am going to the dinner at least. I guess whether or not I attend the last show depends on him. I need him to know I meant it.”
“Girl, he doesn’t believe you. He fucked you raw and kicked you out because he got what he wanted, isn’t that enough? You can’t keep holding onto a couple of nice moments from when you were kids. He’s not that person anymore, and if what you’ve already told him hasn’t convinced him, what else could you possibly say?”
She’s right, of course. He did do that, and there’s a solid possibility that he’s not at all the man I remember. But I didn’t come this far and spend thousands of dollars to go home with my tail between my legs, and nothing will convince him that I’m lying more than me not showing up today. I have to go. “Either way, it’ll be over soon,” I remind her. “He’ll go back home when the tour wraps up and so will I. I’m just not ready to do that untilI’ve had an actual chance to convince him it was all real.”
Her face falls as she stands up and hands me the baggy hoodie I picked out. “You’re delusional, and you’re going to break your own heart so badly I fear it’ll never be repaired. As your best friend, I can’t give you my blessing. He made it clear where he stands and I think you’re setting yourself up for public humiliation which hasn’t ever been your thing, but I love you, and if you think this will help, then do it. Just know that I think this is a terrible idea. You’re not just risking your own sanity here. If this ends as badly as I fear it’s going to, you’ll lose your favorite band and the comfort of the memories you’ve kept all these years. I just don’t think it’s worth it.”
Again, she’s not wrong. I know exactly what I’m risking by going, but what if I left right now? How would that be any better? He fucked me raw, made me cry, and kicked me out. I’m not sure how it could get any worse. “I hear you and I love you, too. You have your ticket to the show on your phone, so if you want to go, go. I get why you no longer want to cometo dinner.”
“Yeah, because I got spitroasted by two of them. Most fun I’ve ever had, don’t get me wrong, but I’m smart enough to walk away while the gettin’ is good.”
That’s the difference between us. She’s smart enough to walk away... and I’m not.
––––––––
I’m numb as some tuxedoed man walks me from the car into the restaurant they rented out. I know this is a mistake — I can feel it in my bones — yet I keep walking anyway. Sidney catches me just as the table comes into view, and the look on his face confirms all my fears.
“I was told you weren’t coming,” he says gently. “He was adamant.”
I don’t even feel anything.
“Well, he didn’t tell me not to come and I paid a lot of money for this meal. I don’t know what he told you, but I’m not lying. I handled it all wrong and that’s on me, but I am who I say I am. I just want a chance to prove it.”
He looks at me the same way Brooke has been, but steps out of the way and gestures toward the table. “Right this way.”
I’m tempted to ask him what exactly Bash said, but I don’t. I scan the tablelooking for the man himself and come up short, but there are two seats at the end of the table that are left open — one with Bash’s nameplate and one without. I assume this seat was originally meant for me and it puts me as close to the man in question as I can get, so I take a seat and pointedly don’t make eye contact with anyone else there.
I’m surrounded by people dressed to the nines while I’m wearing a pair of mom jeans and an oversized hoodie, but Bash seemed to think the skirt I wore yesterday was proof I was lying. I’m not taking any chances today.
But the waiter brings us our drinks, then the first round of appetizers, and Bash is nowhere to be found. Part of me wonders if he saw me from afar and decided to just leave, but that doesn’t sound like him at all.
There’s another fan sitting across from me in a dress that leaves little to the imagination, and I can feel her judgmental stare on the side of my face as I watch the door. Like most people here, I’m sure she’s wondering who the hell I am and what I’m doing here, but when Bash’s handler rushes outside, I stop breathing entirely. Is he finally here?
“Hey, Alaina,” Levi calls a few seats down, his tone far too playful for someone who knows what happened. Does he know? Who did Bash tell? “You doing okay?”
No. I’m not okay, and I don’t even have a chance to answer him before the man I came to see strides in with sunglasses on even though it’s nighttime.
His steps only falter a second before they become deliberate, and then he yanks out the chair next to me and takes a seat.
It isn’t until that moment that I realize how quiet the table has gotten, but as the conversations pick up again, Bash turns his face toward me and leans in. “You’ve got balls, ghost girl.”
“People who have honesty on their side usually do,” I counter. “I understand why you’re hesitant to believe me, I really do, but nothing I told you was a lie.”
“Mmhm.” He reaches under the table to grip my thigh. “Are these jeans? What am I supposed to do with those?”
His words slur together enough to catch my attention, but when I look at his eyes under those sunglasses, they’re clear. He might not be fully sober, but he’s sober enough to hear me at least.
“Nothing, and that’s the point.” Reaching down, I gently squeeze his hand and then move it off of me. “You blamed my outfit choice last night, so I made sure that today, there would be no misunderstanding my intentions.”
His jaw tenses before he turns toward that other fan. “Nice dress. You should change outfits with her.”
The shock of his suggestion leaves her speechless, but luckily Yas sweeps in to pull her attention off of their mess of a singer and play it off like a joke.
When he seems to realize no one wants to play his fucked-up games, he turns his attention back to me. “So we’re back to the kid stuff,” he mutters. “Why?”
What the hell does that even mean?
“If by the kid stuff you mean the fact that I was a real person and not a ghost, we’re back to it because I’m a fucking moron who never learned when to let go.”
