“Thanks again, Molls!” Sabin moves to the far side of the tree house to collect his guitar.
I stop Mollie at the door. “Thank you. Really.”
She tucks her hair behind an ear and bites her lip. “Blythe? Um…he could have really hurt himself. Much worse.”
She’s worried. I can see that.
“I know. I’ll talk to him.” I smile and try to reassure her. “He’ll be okay. He’s tough.”
She looks me in the eyes. “Everyone can break though. I don’t want Sabin to break.”
“I don’t want him to break either.”
I should ask her if she’d like to come out with us. I know that. It would be the polite thing to do.
Yet I don’t. I’m not sure why, but I don’t.
Mollie gives a little wave and rushes out.
Sabin doesn’t seem to be walking funny or having any trouble carrying his stuff to the car, so I decide to forgo a lecture on motorcycle safety. The larger concern I have is that his behavior feels unsafe. He’s risk-taking and chasing danger. I don’t like it.
“Mollie seems nice,” I say on the drive.
“Yeah, she’s all right.” Sabin has his window down and is letting the wind rush over his face while he closes his eyes.
“She seems to like you.”
He turns and grins. “Why wouldn’t she like me? The ladies love Sabin.”
I laugh. “I’m serious.”
“Yeah, well, don’t get excited. That’s not gonna happen. She looks about twelve.”
“She does not. She’s cute.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. But she had a bag full of every kind of bandage anyone could need. Jesus, I could have chopped off an arm, and she probably would’ve had something for that. Oh, I love this song!”
Sabin turns up the indie radio station we have on, which is fine with me because I need a minute. I’m taken aback at how undeniably and markedly relieved I am that he doesn’t pounce on the idea of Mollie as anything more than the girl who bandaged him up. Sabin is my best friend, so I reason that it’s normal to feel protective. Of course, the jealousy piece here is a little weird and creepy. It’s not true jealousy though. It’s just…
Okay, I’m a little possessive over Sabin. Fine. I can admit that.
Sabin turns down the radio. “By the way…”
“Yeah?”
“You look really good tonight, B. The…” He waves his hand around. “The hair and stuff. You look nice.”
He turns the music back up, louder than before, so I don’t have a chance to reply. But I do smile.
The traffic isn’t awful, so we make good time.
We walk in to loud cheers of, “Sabin,” from Chris, Eric, Estelle, James, and Zach, who have taken up a long table by the stage.
This place appears to have more of a bar scene than I thought, but Sabin doesn’t seem to flinch. In fact, he looks elated and energized to be here. He high-fives James, and then the manager directs Sabin to a back room, so I go with him to see if he needs anything else.
“Sabin!” I pat his back as we set down his things. “I’m a roadie!”
He laughs. “You are the best roadie ever, B.”
