More Than Maybe - Erin Hahn Page 0,35

you need to think of someplace closer. Community college, even. California is expensive.”

“I can’t! It’s … I can’t. Phil says if I’m serious about music—”

“Oh, well, if Phil says.” My dad’s tone drips with sarcasm. “How’s that college degree working out for my old friend Phil? He brokering record deals? Producing? It’s a wonder he keeps that dumpster of a club afloat, if you ask me.”

My vision suddenly blurs, and I’m so flustered I can’t think. He’s making me sound like I’m spoiled and that’s so … like him. I push my food away. “I have to go.”

“You haven’t eaten, and Jane is still in the bathroom.”

“I forgot. I have to work,” I lie. “And you were late.”

I scoot out of the booth right as Jane returns with Margo. I kiss Margo and hug Jane before pressing a soft kiss to Haven’s sleeping face. Pulling my purse across my shoulders, I reach into my wallet and toss a ten on the table. “For the tip,” I say. “I’ll see you around, Marcus.”

I get in the car and pull out before I can accidentally see them leaving. But I don’t go far. Instead, I pull into the mall parking lot and hide in a sea of minivans.

I have a million great reasons why my dad should help me with college and why I’m not selfish but goal-oriented, and fuuuuuuck, it doesn’t matter because he’s not going to listen. I feel hysteria clawing at the back of my throat because what if I can’t afford college and what if I need to go to junior college? It’s not the worst thing. People do it all the time.

But it’s not even school that bothers me. It’s the not leaving here. It’s still living in the same town with him and coming in second or even third place for the rest of my life.

I can’t. I can’t be only that. I’ve worked too hard. I have to get out.

My phone buzzes, and I swipe at my eyes, pulling it out to see a random email notification and the response Luke must have sent earlier.

LUKE

I’m not worthy! The Grateful Dead. Are you serious?

Despite myself, I grin. It’s stupid how happy that stupid text makes me.

VADA

Sorry, I was at dinner with my dad.

LUKE

Rescheduled from a few weeks ago?

VADA

Yeah. Good memory!

LUKE

Phil might’ve mentioned it.

VADA

Riiiiiight. He’s worse than my mom.

LUKE

I’ve been meaning to ask you about that …

VADA

Yeah. Decades of pining + “Netflix and chill”

VADA

Don’t tell Phil what it really means. They think it means watching Netflix and falling asleep on the couch. What did he say? Boyfriend Phil is sort of adorkable.

LUKE

Nothing really, he just looked sort of fond?

I laugh to myself, settling deeper into my seat.

VADA

Fond? And how does one look fond, exactly?

LUKE

…

LUKE

…

LUKE

Besotted?

VADA

What.

LUKE

I DON’T KNOW, OKAY!

LUKE

He just gets this look on his face. Sort of like …

LUKE

I mean, it was obvious he feels strongly about your mom. And then he said you were going to dinner with your, uh, dad.

VADA

Yeah. It wasn’t great.

LUKE

Wanna talk about it?

VADA

Not really, but …

VADA

Maybe this. YouTube: Snow Patrol “Life on Earth”

LUKE

brb

I check my Snapchat while I wait for him to listen, but I’m distracted and vulnerable.

LUKE

…

LUKE

Sorry. That song is meant to be heard on headphones or not at all.

VADA

Accurate. You need to hear it in your throat.

LUKE

Yeah. I’m sorry, Vada. He’s a fucker.

I snort. That’s succinct and so perfectly fits my thoughts.

VADA

Thank you. He is. Anyway, I need to drive home.

LUKE

Hold on.

LUKE

Something for the ride. YouTube: Mt. Joy “Silver Lining”

I’m still smiling as I pull into my driveway.

* * *

Meg must’ve heard about my dad through our moms because on my way home, I got a text that she was on her way with Ben & Jerry’s and a couple of Redbox movies.

The doorbell rings, so I dash down the stairs. Meg flutters in wearing her ever-present fairy wings and pink extensions. She’s really like one of those pixie dream girls John Green characters are always following across the country, but unironically so.

She hugs my mom. “Aunt Mary! You look divine. Have you been drinking more water? Your skin is fabulous. Like a baby’s butt. Seriously.”

My mom grins, flipping her hair over a shoulder. “I’m glad someone noticed,” she says. “I have, thanks. A gallon a day.”

“You look radiant.” And she does. I haven’t been paying attention, too consumed in my own drama, but my mom looks really, really good. Fresh-faced and happy. Huh. Maybe she does know what “Netflix and chill” means.

“And Vada!” Meg throws her arms around me, squeezing