“Hello, beautiful,” he says charmingly and the sound of his voice sends a quiver through my body. “How’s my favorite girl in the world?”
“Well, hello to you too.” I amble toward a leafy tree in the center of the lawn. “I’m doing great. Are you having a good day?”
“I am now.” He uses his player’s voice on me. “I’ll have an even better day if you’ll tell me what you’re wearing.”
“Jeans and a ratty T-shirt.” I press back a smile.
“Come on, pretty girl, it’s been like a month.” He laughs into the phone, a deep noise that makes my insides vibrate. “Tell me what you’re wearing underneath it.”
I roll my eyes, but tolerate him. “A red, lacy thong and matching bra.”
“That’s a really nice mental picture you painted there,” he growls in a husky voice. “Now I’ll have something to help take care of myself later.”
“Just as long as you’re taking care of it yourself,” I say and there’s a drawn-out pause. “Micha, are you there?”
“You know I’d never do that to you, right?” His tone carries heaviness. “I love you way too much.”
“I was just joking.” Kind of. Lately, it’s been bothering me that he spends so much time with Naomi, especially because a lot of his stories involve her.
“Yeah, but you always joke about it every time we talk and I worry that deep down you believe it.”
“I don’t,” I insist, although the thought has crossed my mind. He’s a lead singer in a band. And gorgeous. And charming. “I know you love me.”
“Good, because I have something to tell you.” He pauses. “We got the gig.”
My mouth instantly sinks. “The one in New York?”
“Yeah… Isn’t that great?”
“It’s awesome… I’m really happy for you.”
Silence takes over. I want to say something, but the sadness has stolen my voice so I stare across the campus at a couple walking and holding hands, thinking about what it’s like to have that.
“Ella May, tell me what’s wrong,” he demands. “Are you worried about my being gone? Because you know you’re the only girl for me. Or is it… is it Grady? How are you doing with that? I never know since you won’t talk to me.”
“It’s not Grady,” I say quickly, wanting to get off that subject. “It’s just that… it’s so far and I barely get to see you as it is.” I slump back against a tree trunk. “You’re still coming up here this weekend, right?”
He lets out a gradual breath. “The thing is, to make it to New York in time, we have to leave tomorrow morning. And I’d drive over there tonight, just to see you, but we have a performance.”
My insides wind into knots, but I stay calm on the outside. “How long are you going to be gone to New York?”
He takes a second to answer. “About a month.”
My hand trembles with anger or fear… I’m not sure. “So I haven’t seen you in almost a month and I’m not going to be able to see you for another month?”
“You could come visit me in New York,” he proposes. “You could fly out for, like, a week or something.”
“I have midterms.” My voice is sullen. “And my brother’s wedding’s in, like, a month and all my extra money is to pay for that.”
“Ella, come on!” Lila shouts and my eyes dart to her. She motions me to come over, while Blake stands beside her with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. “Blake’s waiting on us.”
“Who’s Blake?” Micha wonders curiously.
“Just a guy from my class,” I explain, leaving the tree and heading toward Blake and Lila. “Look, I got to go.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, Lila’s just waiting on me.”
“Okay… I’ll call you after my performance then.”
“Sounds good.” I hang up the phone, realizing I forgot to say good-bye, but the word wouldn’t have left my mouth anyway. It feels like we’re slipping away from each other, and he was the one thing that brought me back out of my dark place. If he leaves me, I’m not sure I can hold onto the light.
Micha
“Fuck.” I hang up the phone and kick the tire of the band’s SUV, which is in the middle of a parking lot of a shitty-ass motel in the bad side of town where crackheads walk the streets and every building has graffiti. It makes Star Grove look classy.
The sadness in Ella’s voice worries me. She’s still struggling with her personal demons, Grady’s death, her mom’s death, and won’t completely open up to me about everything. There’s always a thought in the back of my mind that she might vanish again.
A car backfires as I walk back to the motel room. On the stairway, I weave around a man making out with a woman who’s probably a hooker to get to my door.
This is what I’m choosing over Ella? Sometimes I wonder why.
“Wow, you look like you’re in a pissy mood,” Naomi remarks from the bed when I slam the door of the motel room. She’s painting her toenails and the room stinks like paint thinner. “Did you have a bad day?”
Clearing my throat, I empty out the change from the pocket of my jeans and drop my wallet down on the nightstand. “What gave it away? The door slam?”
“You’re so hilarious.” She sits up and blows on her nails. “What did Ella say to you this time?”
“She didn’t say anything.” I unzip my duffel bag that’s on a chair between the television and the table. “She never does.”
“That’s the problem.” Naomi likes to put her two cents in on everything and sometimes it gets on my nerves. “That she doesn’t tell you how she feels.”
I grab a pair of clean jeans and a black, long-sleeved shirt from the bag. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Ah.” His eyebrows arch upward. “The infamous Micha.”
“That would be the one,” I say. “He’s leaving… clear across the country.”
He wiggles the keys out of the ignition. “And you’re upset about this, I take it?”
“Well, obviously. He’s leaving and he was supposed to drive out here from LA this weekend.” The more I talk about it aloud, the more panic chokes at my chest. “But now he has to drive out to New York tomorrow. I have no idea why I’m telling you this. I’m sorry.” I climb out of the car and close the door.
He meets me at the front of the car, swings his bag over his shoulder, and pushes the lock button, the headlights blinking. We walk in silence toward the grass area that stretches over the front of the campus. Lila is underneath a tree talking to Parker, a tall guy with thick arms and sandy blond hair. He’s wearing a button-down shirt and a pair of fancy jeans. It’s her type of guy normally, except for Ethan. The two of them occasionally talk on the phone, although they still insist they’re just friends.