He grinned, taking her hand. “Speaking of staying humble. Guess what the most expensive listing ended up being?”
“The jacket Ethan wore inDirtbags?”
“That did go for a lot. But it was your song. Someone bid thirty-five K for it.”
It felt like the ceiling had been shattered on Merritt’s capacity for surprise. “What?Who? How?”
She’d spent a long time debating with herself about what to donate, deciding in the end to write a song for the winner on the topic of their choice. Even if her own well of inspiration had run dry, she had faith that she could cook up something decent if given the ingredients by someone else—although she’d expected it to go for a few hundred, at most.
“Jo was saying some pop culture site found out that you guys had donated stuff, and it blew up. Anyone could bid since it was all online. I don’t think the winner was even here.”
“Wow. For that amount, I feel like I owe them an opera.”
Niko laughed. “Save that for next year. You’re going to have to top yourself somehow.”
She shot a sidelong glance at him, smiling in a way that felt borderline unhinged. “I guess thisdoeskinda make me Mrs. Crested Peak, huh?”
He met her eyes, and it looked like he was trying to restrain himself from an equally unhinged grin. “I guess it does.”
After a quick stop at Niko’s, they pulled up to her house. They stopped in the kitchen first, where they’d left a few cases of seltzer and beer in the fridge. Merritt pulled out a can for each of them and balanced them on top of the blankets and pillows in Niko’s arms before she led him upstairs to what would soon be her bedroom.
It was clean and empty, since it hadn’t needed much other than new fixtures and a fresh coat of paint. Instead of turning on the harsh overhead light, Merritt set down the lamp she’d brought in a corner and plugged it in, casting the room in a diffuse golden glow, their shadows climbing up the wall.
A huge half-moon window on the opposite wall that overlooked the town during the day was now an inky black mirror, doubling their movements right back at them as they laid out the pillows and blankets on the ground in a makeshift nest.
“You really have done an amazing job in here,” she murmured once they were seated, facing each other, ankles hooked together.
He popped the tab on his beer, casting his gaze around the room. “Well, I didn’t do much in here.”
She nudged his foot with hers. “You know what I mean.”
He grinned. “Thanks. I should be done this week, probably. We need to do a walk-through, but I think there are only a few things left to take care of. And your mural, of course.”
“Thank god I locked down your pre-fame rate.”
He ducked his head, still smiling. “Keep talking like that and you reallyaregoing to give me a big ego.”
“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t believe it.”
He met her eyes. “I know. That’s why it means something.” They held eye contact for a long beat, and Merritt’s stomach swooped like she’d jumped off a swing. “I’d never want to be famous, though. You don’t make it sound very fun.”
“Sometimes it was,” she said. “My life is so much better now, though.”
He shifted to his side, propped up on the pillows, stroking one hand up her shin, his expression preoccupied.
“How are you feeling?” she asked softly.
“About what?”
“About leaving. After everything tonight.”
His hand stilled, and he exhaled audibly. “I don’t know. Bad. Weird. I wish I didn’t have to.”
“Do you? Have to?” She waved a hand vaguely. “If you wanted to stay, you would have so much support.”
He was quiet for a moment, then rolled flat onto his back. She lay down next to him, on her side, her hand on his chest, her thigh resting between his.
“It’s not just about finding another place to live,” he said, his voice low and pensive. “I don’t have any savings. If I got hurt and couldn’t work, I would be fucked. And even if I don’t, it’s still hard on my body, doing this. I don’t want to do it forever.”
