More Than Maybe - Erin Hahn Page 0,57
your song.”
He freezes.
“Like, a lot of times.” I make a face. “A lot. God,” I say, hiding my face in my hands. “This is embarrassing, but…”
He looks green. I hesitate, but I’ve gone this far.
“It’s the most brilliant thing I’ve ever heard, Luke. Countless eye-closers, okay? But I know it’s not what you wanted. The ‘prick’ I know couldn’t possibly,” I say, reminding him of our conversation way back when this all started. He’d called himself a “prick” for wasting his talent … but I don’t agree. He’s not wasting it. He’s saving it. “It’s not okay what Cullen did, and I’m sorry he violated your privacy. I can’t even imagine. And I know it’s causing you all sorts of grief, and I’m sorry for that, too.”
His face is unreadable, and I feel mine grow boiling hot, and I’m feeling a bit sick now. “And … I am rambling and sound like a crazed superfan, so I’m going to shut up, and if you could just forget the last like hundred seconds—”
His hand covers my mouth, and he shakes his head.
“It was an enormous violation, and I’m still reeling over it, but I’m also very glad you liked it. That helps. I admire your taste and consider you a friend”—he clears his throat—“and so just shut up with your self-conscious prattling.” My lips grin against his skin, and I have to stop myself from kissing his palm.
Which is, like, weird, right? Why would I do that? What is happening?
“Prattling?” I ask, my attention snagging on the realization he just called me a friend.
His lips quirk. “Yeah. Prattling. I hate that everyone else heard my song. But I hate it less that you have.”
“Oh.” Oh. “Well. Good.” I think.
“Besides, I watched you dance that day in class. The one where you didn’t know I was there? And while we haven’t talked about it, it felt … like more than dance. Anyway, my point is, we’re even. Okay?”
I’m a little stunned. Because he’s right. It was more than dance that day, and I didn’t mean for anyone to see it. “Guess it’s all out there now, huh?”
“Guess so.”
“Hey! I have an idea! We should partner up and do an embarrassing and revealing performance for a live audience!”
Luke chuckles, low. “I love it. Let’s do that.”
“Done,” I agree, feeling shy, but I try for a reassuring smile as I tuck a strand of loose hair behind my ear.
He nods once. “Right. So, that’s the bell.”
“My lunch!” I say, and I move past him. “I’m sorry; I need to save my mom’s Tupperware.”
“See you at work!” he says.
I wave a hand over my shoulder and keep walking, but I definitely feel Lindsay Turton’s eyes shooting lasers at me as I go.
Your loss.
* * *
It’s a rowdy Thirsty Thursday at the Loud Lizard, and Meg is perched on a stool at the end of the bar, chatting it up with Ben and sipping on a lemonade like it’s her job. Dozens of coeds mill around the small tabletops, most with significant tabs, and my glittery best friend has the best seat in the house. Anyone else might think she’s smitten, but I know better. Meg and Ben are like brother and sister, growing up on the youth group circuit together. They even play in a band together. Not the bluegrass band that requires a beard to participate but a church band.
In fact, I’ve never seen Meg interested in anyone in that way. More like she’s interested in everyone in a more eternal kind of way. She’s the most joyful and generous person I’ve ever known, and people are attracted to her like flies on syrup, but she doesn’t do crushes. At least, not yet. One day, someone with those faux pointed ears will waltz into her life and make her head spin.
Tonight, however, the door opens and Cullen walks in, carrying the weight of the world and the smell of impending spring. He sees me and makes a beeline. “Is my brother here?”
I tip my head to the side, taking in his entirety. Cullen’s more flustered looking than I’ve ever seen him. His black hair is windswept, but not in an artful way, and he’s wearing gym shoes. Like running shoes. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Cullen Greenly in anything athletic. Behind him, Zack follows. In contrast, he appears … patient.
“Vada,” Zack says.
“Social Media Manager Zack. You’ve been busy,” I respond back. “And no,” I say to Cullen. “He’s not on the schedule tonight.”
Meg