While You're Away (9 page)

For a moment, Jane said nothing. She rubbed my back, gentle circles that gave her time to think and, at the very least, continued to soothe my upset. Dark eyes darting away, she took a deep breath, then sighed. “This is what I’m afraid of.”

Knotting my hands together, I said, “Okay?”

“The one thing that worries me is this.” Jane had never sounded more serious, and it made me uneasy. “You had one major issue with Dave. After every show, he walked away from you to flirt with everything that moved. If a girl came up to him to talk about quote unquote music, you just didn’t exist.”

I was confused. Both of those things were true. But where was she going with this? “I know.”

Jane widened her eyes. “Will Spencer is a verified manwhore. It’s not just flirting with him, and you know it.”

“You think I should get back together with Dave?” I asked her, stunned.

With one last pat on my back, Jane stood up. Her voice was gentle, not usually her strong suit. I could tell she was trying to be careful with me.

But as she trashed a handful of tissues, she looked me over and said, “No. Of course not. What’s wrong with your relationship with Dave has always been wrong with it. And maybe Will is the perfect rebound.”

“There’s a ‘but’ in there.”

Nodding, she said, “Yep. And the but is, you need to put yourself first. You’re smart. And you’re talented. So fucking talented, Sarah. You don’t
need
anybody to make music with you. You don’t
need
a guy to make you special. Running back and forth from guy to guy isn’t going to solve anything.

“If you want a boyfriend, that’s great. But it’s time for you to realize that anybody that you’re with is
lucky
to have you, and they need to step it up accordingly.”

She was so passionate. So sincere. Was she right? I didn’t know. Not yet.

But I was about to find out.

T
hat night, I sat on the edge of my tub and ran the water as hot as I could stand it. With my pajama pants rolled up, and steam swirling around me, I slowly dipped my feet into the tub.

Hissing, I waited for my skin to adjust to the burn, then finally relaxed. Soaking my feet was something I usually shared with Ellie. She was the one who started it. After grueling dance classes, she liked to sear away the ache. Tonight, though, she had an extra performance, and I needed some quiet time.

My fingers skated across the screen of my phone. I hesitated, then touched the messaging icon. Heart thrumming madly, I typed my message slowly. And then I thought long and hard about whether I wanted to send it. I felt like Jane was standing right behind me, arms crossed, eyebrow raised. I heard her voice clearly, reminding me that I needed to make
myself
happy. So what did I want? What did I actually, truly want?

It was like standing on the edge of a cliff. I could back away from the edge. I could make up with Dave. If he apologized, I could, too. Things would be the same kind of normal they’d ever been. I could hide in the sweet, steady warmth of his arms and never come out again.

No
, I told myself. I couldn’t.

I could stand here all alone. Or I could decide that it was time to jump. So I hit send.

Tag, you’re it.

No last time I checked u were figuring stuff out
, Will replied.

Last chance. Last chance to abandon the intoxicating, terrifying possibility of Will Spencer. My fingers flew, and I hit send without shame
. I know. And I did. Broke up w/ Dave this morning.

Srsly?

I’d never lie about that. So tag. You’re it.

Swirling my feet in the water, I watched the screen with dread and anticipation. What if this had all been a game for him? What if he’d played it with other girls? My heart swore he hadn’t. I wanted to believe it, but now I needed proof.

The heat from the water crept through me. Sweat gathered on my brow and beneath my shirt.

The seconds ticked by, and my murmuring echoed in the bathroom. It wasn’t praying, not exactly. It was more like an incantation.
Please, please don’t let me be wrong about this. Please don’t.

A chime announced Will’s reply.
I’ll talk to Trish.

When?
I asked.

Soon
, he said.
Very soon.

~

When I got back to school on Monday morning, Will and Tricia still looked very much together.

I refused to let myself hate Tricia, because out of all of us, she was the most innocent party. That didn’t mean it didn’t feel like a deep swallow of acid to watch her lay her head on Will’s shoulder. It was a knife through the heart to see her nuzzling close to him at his locker. She had exactly what I wanted. And she seemed to fit against him almost as perfectly as I did.

A couple of times, I turned around to see Will watching me. Because I didn’t want to believe I was out on a limb by myself, I convinced myself that he didn’t look happy. In fact, he looked like he was starving—he had a wide, wounded expression that I couldn’t forget, even when I tried.

I’d looked at the edge of the cliff, and I’d jumped. But now I felt like I was freefalling, unsure if anyone would be there to catch my fall. And it felt more and more likely that Will wasn’t going to. So he deserved to be miserable, I thought. I tried to comfort myself with a dark sense of victory. Will had never been the guy who pined, who cared, who thought twice about a girl. I had to move on. I had to put myself first, as commanded.

I walked as far away from Will and Tricia as I possibly could. I found a nice, quiet corner down by the wood shop where I could eat my lunch in peace. It was the last place anyone expected to find me. I learned to enjoy the rich cologne of sawdust and mechanical heat. If I never saw Will, I never had to suffer.

In avoiding Will, I avoided Dave, too. And it appeared he was avoiding me right back. There wasn’t even a ghost of our relationship lurking in any of our old spots. We were just
gone.

The only good thing to come from misery was songwriting. “Scrambled Eggs” became a ballad titled “Everything.” It got harder and richer. When I disappeared into it, it was the perfect escape. For the first time, I felt like I was completely naked in my lyrics. I spilled everything out, so honestly and so relentlessly that just singing through it to adjust the key could make me cry all over again.

Spring rushed into full bloom. In days, little green shoots became daffodils and tulips. The birds came back. Sitting outside, enjoying the sunshine and the solitude, my phone finally rang again. Dave’s ringtone, a bar from one of his favorite Dasa songs, startled me. Dread filled me. He wanted his stuff back. We needed to work out the band breakup. My thoughts raced with all the things he might say.

“Hey, Dave.” I tried my best to sound natural.

“Hello, Sarah,” he said. His voice was soft. Tentative, like the first time we’d met. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

Sweeping my hair from my face, I sat all the way back. I gazed into the pale green leaves just starting to bud above me. They were still so thin that light poured through them. Their delicate, vulnerable veins stood out in delicate shadows. “No. No, I was just working on some stuff. No big deal. What’s up?”

The line went quiet. Then Dave cleared his throat. “I was wondering if you were going to come to the garage this weekend.”

Surprised, I sat up warily. “I . . . wasn’t planning on it. Did you need me to?”

Though I couldn’t see him, I could picture his face perfectly. I knew it almost as well as my own. His blue-gray eyes were probably looking to one side, his lips pursed as he worked through what to say next. If I had to guess, I really wouldn’t have been surprised if he was rubbing his throat with one hand. He did that a lot when he didn’t know what came next. It was like he was massaging the words out of himself.

There was a rustling sound as he shifted the phone, probably from one side to the other. Then he said, “You usually do. And you were still working on lyrics the last time we talked. How are they coming?”

Just then, I wanted to see Dave more than anyone in the world. It was shocking how painful it was when the numbness wore off. I talked too fast, afraid I sounded desperate.

“They’re done. I think they’re really good, but I don’t know.” My voice broke. “Without you, I just don’t know.”

Exhaling softly, Dave said, “Look, Sarah . . . I said some things I really regret.”

“Me too,” I replied.

He cleared his throat, and it was better, really, that we had this conversation on the phone. Maybe if we’d been face to face, it would have been easier to avoid the hard stuff.

I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d made a mistake. If not in breaking up with Dave, then at least in the way I’d gone about it. Was this a sign that Dave wasn’t ready to give up on us?

Then he spoke again.

“I also said some things I meant. I don’t know what I want right now, Sarah.”

Weighted, I sank back in the chair. And I nodded, because it wasn’t a pleasant thing to hear. But at least it was honest. “Fair enough.”

“I don’t think you do, either. But I miss playing with you.”

“I miss that, too,” I admitted.

“So, then, let me ask again. Are you coming to the studio this weekend?”

~

“Don’t leave a bitch hanging,” Jane demanded, plowing through a veggie burger of epic proportions. “What did you say?”

Shrugging, I picked through my cheesy fries. “I said yes.”

The table shook when Jane slapped it. Way overdramatically, she cried out, “What!?” like she’d just found out that I had sold both my kidneys to a con man or something. Flopping back in her chair, she shook her head at me. “You’re going backward.”

Sometimes, I wanted to throttle her. “He didn’t say he wanted to get back together.”

“Do
you
?” Jane arched a brow.

Impatient, I flicked a bit of real, actually-made-from-cow’s-milk cheese onto Jane’s vegan plate. Admittedly, a jerkwad maneuver. But she wasn’t making it easy to be sensitive to her needs. “No. The important thing is—”

“The precious music. I know, you keep saying that.”

Even though Jane and I got along really well, sometimes she got too strident. It was like she didn’t know how to stop being the hammer. When she saw a problem, she had to crash into it at full speed. Trying not to sound peevish, I said, “You don’t have to like it. It just is, okay?”

Waving in surrender, Jane delicately slid her plate to the side. “Okay, fine. It just is.”

“Great,” I muttered.

“Sooo . . . have you talked to Will?” Jane asked.

For the first time, I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want to dissect it, and I didn’t want to hear anyone’s advice. The sound of his name left me reeling, but not in a good way.

Things were so screwed up and so confusing. Days had passed and nothing. Now, I wasn’t sure he was ever going to have a talk with Tricia. It was entirely possible we—
I
—had mistaken a moment for something more.

When Will and I were together, I had no doubts. In his arms, his lips on mine, I knew we were meant to be. But Will hadn’t taken the one step that would put us together. I couldn’t make him. And honestly, I didn’t want to.

Jane leaned in. “Well?”

“It’s up to him now,” I said.

“What was the point in breaking up with Dave if you weren’t going to take Will for a spin?”

Darkly amused, I stirred my drink. “What do you care? You think Will is a douche bag.”

“I’m judgey,” Jane informed me. It wasn’t a surprise, but it was funny to hear her admit it. “I judge everybody. What do I know? Okay, I know absolutely everything there is about film history that’s worth knowing. But seriously, I don’t date. But you . . . you actually seem to like interacting with other human beings on a personal and romantic level.”

It was my turn to snort at her. “Okay, Jane-Bot, whatever.”

“Seriously.” Jane patted my hand against her cheek. Sincerity rolled off her in waves. There was no sarcasm in the rise of her eyebrow, not a single hint of a smirk on her Sensational Scarlet lips. It was all Jane, entirely engaged and real with me. “Are you okay?”

I didn’t even surprise myself when I said, “I am.”

That was fine—Jane was plenty surprised for both of us. Her eyebrows pulled yoga poses: disquieted feline, perturbed goose. “Are you really?”

That was enough of that. Sure, I’d waffled a lot lately. And no, it didn’t look like things were going to turn out the way I’d hoped. But I’d made a decision, and I felt good about that. It was a complicated emotion.

Patting her fondly, I told her, “Everything will be fine. If it doesn’t work out, oh well. I tried. I don’t want to be fifty and wondering what-if.”

“Let’s be fair. Nobody wants to be fifty, period.”

The atmosphere felt so much lighter all of a sudden. It was easier to smile. To underscore that, Jane flicked a sweet potato chip in my direction and went back to her sandwich.

I arrived at a realization: I was the one in control.

~

I took a deep breath and typed slowly. I wanted to make sure autocorrect didn’t morph my text into something bizarre and incomprehensible. Leaning against my car, I watched Will toss a ball in the air, then swing at it with a low, lazy shoulder. There was a reason he wasn’t on the school team.

It was a warm Saturday morning, but the batting cages were fairly deserted. Another symptom of small-town living: it’s never a shock to look out your car window and see someone you know. When I caught a glimpse of him as I drove to the music store, I pulled over immediately.

It was the week before graduation, and most people had better things to do. There were parties and campouts, last trips to the amusement park. It was strangely touching to find Will alone.

His black T-shirt clung to his chest. Every time he swung the bat, a slice of pale skin appeared at his waist. Though it was nothing but a hint of his back, I got swept up in the rush of seeing any part of him that usually remained hidden.

With a held breath, I hit send.
fyi, you’re still the once and future it.

Will let the bat fall. His shoulders lifted and fell with a sigh. The text had arrived. Black brows knitted, he pulled his phone from his pocket. I took a shallow breath, wondering what would happen when he realized it was from me. A dark, terrified thrill ran in my veins.

When he read the text, he lifted his head immediately. Unguarded, Will wore a look of raw need. For a long moment, he stood there, reading the text over and over again. I watched him hesitate, trying to decide what to say in return.

It was like my nerves were waking again. Adrenaline shot through me. That magnetic pull began, urging my wanton body to get closer. To touch. To hold and taste and have. Fantasy splashed through my thoughts, urging me on. I could kiss him there—I could trace the rise of his ribs with my tongue. He’d whisper something wild; I would smear a kiss across his skin and cast my eyes up. Meet his and dare him to bare more for me.

Hands trembling, I sent another message before he could reply.
I see you
.

Immediately, he lifted his head. Sunlight slanted across his face. Blue eyes illuminated, he turned. His motions were sharp. His gaze keen, until he caught sight of me. Considering me through the fence, he approached slowly. Chain link separated us, the thinnest barrier.

“You on the visitor’s list?” he joked quietly. He devoured me with longing looks, tugging on the fence between us.

“I’m not breaking you out,” I replied. Unlatching the gate, I slid inside. “I’m breaking in.”

The crack of wood on leather echoed down the row.

Will considered me, his pale eyes unreadable. “I haven’t talked to Tricia yet.”

My heart sank, but I reached for the bat. Picking up a ball, I weighed it lightly. When my sisters and I were little, our dad would spend an occasional afternoon in the backyard, pitching to us. I don’t think he expected any of us to become professional athletes, but he wanted us to be well-rounded.