“Seriously. There are way more successful musicians than athletes, I’m sure.”
He grins, watching me with an amused gleam in his eyes. “I’m studying psychology.”
My brows rise. “Really? Why?”
He shrugs. “I think I want to be a counselor. I’m not sure where yet, but I’d like to help. If I had someone after my mother died besides my father, I think the transition into Greenwood would have been way smoother. I was an angry kid.”
“Well, yeah, you just lost your mother and then moved to the worst place on Earth.” I gasp, my hand flying to my mouth. “Fuck, I didn’t mean to say that last part.”
A dark laugh falls from his lips. “You’re right though. That definitely didn’t help things. But the counselors didn’t either. I’d like to be the difference in an angry kid’s life someday. It might make everythingseem worth it.”
That makes my heart feel full for some reason, like Axl is honoring the child inside himself in the best way he can. Advocating for him when no one else would. Not even me.
“And let me guess,” he continues before I can say anything. “You wanted to study fashion, but alas, Greenwood doesn’t allow it.”
My lips curve up. “Yeah, but I went with the next best thing. A double major in business and management. Maybe I can use that to get into the fashion world someday.”
“Shit, you have time to do all of that and juggle cheerleading?”
“Well, I don’t really have a social life, so I deal with it just fine.”
His jaw clenches. “You seem to go wherever the wind takes you. I’d say that’s a plentiful social life.”
“Well, I guess… but I don’t really have people to do it with. Not people that I trust to be less-than-perfect in front of.”
I think back to high school, the last time he and I had this conversation. Nothing has changed since then. I’m still hanging out with the same petty people, still planting on a smile when I’d rather cry. Despite how optimistic I was when high school came to a close, I’m still in the exact same place, waiting for the moments where I can breach the surface to breathe.
“That has to be lonely, Stacey,” he comments.
I wave him off, the motion robotic. “It’s fine.”
He shakes his head. “Nothing in your life should just be ‘fine.’ You don’t deserve to just be content. You deserve everything and more, including people who understand you.”
This conversation is hitting way too close to home. I look around, trying to find any reason I can to run away, but my body stays locked in place, knowing that I can’t do that.
If I run away again, Axl is done, and I don’t want him to be done. I want anything but that.
Then something pink catches my eye. It’s silk, blush in color, and wrapped around his drumsticks as they lay in the center console between us.
Has it been there the whole time? Why didn’t I notice it?
Because I recognize that pink ribbon. It used to be mine.
“What the hell is that?” I ask a bit more harshly than I mean to.
His eyes flash to it and then widen, sincerely shaken that I had seen the ribbon tied in a wonky bow around the wooden sticks. His response confirms what I thought the second I saw it.
It’s the ribbon I lost the day of the fire. I looked for it for weeks, but ultimately accepted that it probably burned in the flames. But it didn’t. It’s sitting right there, twirled around Axl Ritchie’s most prized possessions.
“When you saw me that day, before the fire…”
“You gave it to me,” he says. “You were giggly and happy, and then you wrapped it around my finger. After all of that, making sure we got away from the fire, I didn’t even realize it was still there until later that night.”
My mouth goes dry. “And you still have it.”
Axl looks at it then. It’s a little bit wilted, but the pink is still pretty as ever. I’m not sure if he ever re-tied it, but it looks like it belongs there, wrapped around the beaten wood with a lovely contrast.
“Yes, I still have it.” He swallows, a shakiness in his voice. “It’s precious to me. It helps when I need to be centered. And, it always felt poetic. I’ve always been wrapped around your finger, so when you physically tied it to my ring finger that day…” He trails off, but his gaze never leaves mine. Honesty shimmers in them, and it makes me take a sharp breath. “I kept it as a reminder of that. For how symbolic it was.”
