comes out, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone more beautiful. Her long hair is pinned up to keep it off her neck. The makeup she had on earlier has been sweated away. Best of all, she’s wearing a shirt with me on it. Well, not just me—it’s a picture of all of us—but yes, me.
My pants get tight. I adjust myself and try to think of something else. Anything else. “You want ice cream?”
“Sure. It’s hot enough.”
“Bria told me about a place called St. George Street. There are lots of shops and restaurants and ice cream places. I think that’s where they went. Want to meet up with them?”
“Lead the way.”
We make small talk on the way over. A group of young kids are doing sign language. It reminds me of something Ella did. “Give me your hand.”
She shoots me a disapproving stare.
“I don’t want to hold it, El. I need to show you something.”
As I move her fingers into place, bolts of pleasure shoot through me. I’ve come to crave the feel of her soft hands. The electrified pulse of her touch. But I push the feelings aside. “This is what I think you were going for. It’s the ‘rock on’ sign, or devil’s horn to be precise. You don’t use your thumb. The sign you flashed me means ‘I love you’.”
Her cheeks flame, and she covers her face with her hands. “I’m so bad at this.”
I laugh. “You’re better than you think.”
“How can that possibly be?”
“I wrote another song. That’s why you’re here. For inspiration.”
“Are you going to play it for me?”
“When it’s finished. I’m putting the final touches on it.”
We pass a large fort on the water. I’ve never been one to sightsee, but suddenly I have the urge. “Want to go inside?”
“This is the oldest city in America,” she says. “Might as well see some history while we’re here. But first you promised me ice cream.”
My phone vibrates with a text. It’s a group text from Ronni, telling us she’s returning to New York. I read it to Ella, smiling.
“You’re happy she’s leaving?”
“Of course I’m happy. She’s a damn thorn in our side.”
“I thought maybe you wanted her to stay.”
“What the hell gave you that idea?”
“Her showing up naked last night.”
“I don’t even like Ronni. She was a distraction, nothing more.”
“Was?” she asks.
I try not to read too much into her question, because even if she thinks she’s changed her mind about me, I can never allow anything to happen. I like being her friend. If I let it go beyond that, she’ll run so far, so fast, I’ll never see her again. “Yeah. Was. Now let’s get you some ice cream.”
Chapter Sixteen
Ella
I’ve made a lot of progress on my drawings over the past week. You might even say I’ve been inspired. I pencil in the hair, making it just the right shade, then scold myself when I look at a picture on my phone, making sure it matches his exactly.
I sent the preliminary sketches to the author this morning. She texted only one word: Perfect. I’m destined to draw pictures of him for the next year. Jimmy and Jojo will go on adventures to the zoo, the beach, an amusement park. Art may be imitating life, as those are some of the things Liam has promised we’ll do during our time here.
It’s Saturday. There’s four hours until they play tonight, and I’m getting excited all over again. I thought I’d get bored seeing them play the same songs over and over, night after night, but the opposite is true. With each performance, I get into it more. Ronni was right; I’m a groupie.
I’m not the only one. I’ve noticed familiar faces in the crowd at the last three performances. Girls who seem to be following Reckless Alibi down the east coast. The band is becoming more popular with each concert.
I glance at the empty couch in the hotel room. It’s a different couch, a different room, but a part of me wishes he were still sleeping on it. He stopped sharing my space after Ronni went back to New York. He’s bunking with Garrett again.
My phone rings. I glance at it and see the face I’ve been drawing the past two hours. “Hey.”
“Are you busy?”
I give Jimmy’s hair one last stroke of the pencil. “Not really.”
“I want to take you to see something.”
“What?”
“It’s a surprise. Can you meet me in the lobby in ten?”