He smiles crookedly. “That thing you were humming under your breath while you brushed your teeth only gets me plus seven from last time I asked?”
“God, I should have known you’d turn this into a sports betting thing.”
“I’ve got an over-under in mind every day.”
“I don’t want to know.”
“Good.” Liam lies flat on his back, and I do the same. We goback to conversing through the ceiling mirror. “You don’t get to know.”
An inflammatory cocktail of curiosity and knowing, discovery and familiarity, swirls between us.
“If your melody can wait,” he murmurs, “I thought you could come to work with me tomorrow. Meet everyone. See how things are going to operate with the band and crew.”
I nod, my head rocking against my pillow. “See you in action?”
Liam’s hair splays across his. “Something like that.”
“I’d love to.”
He gives me one last look and shifts away. I plug in my phone and write down a few lyrics in my notes app before he turns off the light.
I wonder, on bad days, if you breathe for my body
If you sleep for me when I’m in a rush
Pick dreams for me you know I’ll love
Here I am disarmed, now scared, once scarred
Chapter 12
April, Four Years Ago
After whatalmosthappened during our music lesson, I relegate my time with Liam to group activities. We spend three Wednesdays in a row reading (and talking) in the oversized armchairs at the bookstore, then out to dinner with Zara after she closes up shop. We talk about our families, their classwork, our thriftiest hacks; we play a game where Liam names a city, and Zara and I try to name the baseball team. Upon request, Liam walks us through the draft process for MLB, then goes red when we look up his stats online.
“Number seventeen!” Zara says, smacking Liam’s shoulder. “That’s impressive.”
“You’re definitely getting drafted this summer?” I ask.
“If I’m healthy,” Liam says, “and I keep throwing well, then probably.”
Zara and I promise Liam we’ll come to his next home game, but it’ll be a few weeks since he has a three-week away stretch coming up. South Carolina, Mississippi, then Texas.
He goes off to play baseball in other states without really being absent, texting our group chat about his Robin Hobb audiobook updates, sending me songs to listen to with zero context.
He’s just off the bus from Hattiesburg, home for a few nightsbefore hitting the road again for the Texas A&M games, when Liam texts me saying his coach cancelled practice at the last minute.
Liam:Want to start your baseball lessons?
Paige:I only take instruction from #16 draft prospects or higher.
Liam:Is that a challenge?
Paige:You told me you’re competitive.
Liam:I am. It’s a good thing I moved up a slot in the rankings this week. I’ll pick you up in thirty minutes.
I’m already on the curb when he pulls up outside my apartment building. I climb into his old truck, dressed in my athletic wear. My curls are in a single braid down my back, and I have a beloved family water bottle with me, which I shove in an empty cup holder.
