“Well, ye-uh,” Claudia said, still looking agitated.
“Claudia.” I grabbed her hand. “I’ve got no right to be mad at him.” Right?
My friend’s eyes misted over. “It doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt you.”
I blinked at the rush of tears heading straight for my own eyes and turned around so I had my back to the room and to Jake. “It’s self-inflicted. Doesn’t count.”
She sighed but let it go.
“Guys, you made it!”
Looking over my shoulder, I saw Lowe grinning broadly as he made his way across the room. I was immediately enfolded in his hug and I found my arms tightening around him without even meaning to. Tears stung my nose. “Happy birthday.”
His own arms tightened and when he pulled back, he searched my face in concern. “Babe,” he murmured.
Not wanting to make his birthday about Jake and me, I forced out a smile and stepped back to let Claudia greet him.
“Happy birthday, Lowe,” she chirped a little too cheerily as she hugged him. “Great party!” She looked across the room where a beer pong table had been set up. “Oh, I see Matt.” Sure enough Matt lounged against the wall, talking to some chick with his eyes glued to the table. Way to show your interest, Matt. “Why don’t you take Charley to get a drink while I go say hi.”
Lowe frowned as he watched her walk away and then I saw him stiffen when he caught sight of Jake across the room, still flirting with the redhead. Lowe looked back at me and I did my best to keep my face blank. I got the impression he wasn’t buying what I was selling. “Let’s get you that drink.”
I grabbed hold of the hand he held out. He led me into one of the quieter dorm rooms.
“Beck’s friends with three of the guys that room here. They opened their dorm rooms to us for the party.” He grinned over his shoulder at me as he led me toward a desk littered with beer. “How he talked them into that, I have no idea.”
“Here.” I held out a small gift-wrapped box.
His eyes lit up as he took it. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”
I shrugged. “It’s just a little thing.”
“A wee thing, Row would say.”
I flinched at the mention of our Scottish friend Rowena. “I haven’t spoken to her at all since I left Edinburgh.” Another thing to feel guilty about. “Have you guys?”
He nodded as he unwrapped the box. “She actually joined us for a couple of weeks this summer. She’s fine. And she gets that you’ve got a lot going on.”
“Still, I’ll email her when I get back to Purdue.”
Lowe opened the box and lifted out the small item inside. He turned it over and his eyes flew to mine.
“I saw it and thought of you.” I gestured to the guitar pick in his hand, my eyes on the words written across it: Play It Fucking Loud.
“Bob Dylan,” he answered quietly. “You remembered.”
Back in Edinburgh, back when I was with Jake, back when everything was good, we’d all sat around the kitchen one afternoon, talking about everything and nothing. We’d gotten onto the subject of favorite quotes, and Lowe had talked about the reported incident when Bob Dylan was playing in Manchester and someone in the crowd called him “Judas” for playing electric guitar. In response Dylan told his band to “play it f**king loud.” Lowe said he got it—Dylan’s anger, yeah, but mostly his conviction in himself and his music.
“Girls remember shit.” I shrugged it off.
Lowe surprised me by cupping my cheek and leaning into me. My breath stuttered and warning bells chimed in my head. “You make it really difficult, you know that,” he said softly, his eyes on my mouth.
“Lowe…”
His gaze flicked to my eyes. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” I whispered.
He dropped his hand and took a step back. For a second or two he just stared at the pick before pulling his wallet out and sliding the pick safely inside. Once he tucked the wallet away, he handed me a beer.