More Than Maybe - Erin Hahn Page 0,65

step, mouthing it as if to stamp it into being.

Loud Lizard, Behind the Music, Liberty Live, UCLA

Luke.

Gah. Luke Greenly is definitely not in the plan.

A very quiet part of me, the part that can still feel his hands on my waist the night we slow danced, and can hear his “good” reverberating in my ears, thinks he could be part of the plan.

I don’t know what I’m doing with you.

Like an addendum or something. Just … every good plan allows for addendums. Like the Bill of Rights.

Unless that’s not what he wants. Like, literally every girl on the planet is falling over themselves for him and his swoony vocals after that stupid (amazing) song, and maybe the last thing he wants is … a relationship.

Maybe he likes that we’re really good friends who held hands once. My strutting falters, and I skip a step. Maybe it’s a relief for him to think he can just be himself with me and I’m not angling for an Instagram post.

Jesus. What if I’ve been friend zoned? My brain scrambles backward, cataloging all our interactions and …

Holy hell, he’s seen me in spandex, flailing like a chicken. He met Marcus. I groan. Marcus, that fucker. Who wants in on that whole mess?

And his song! That perfect song! He straight-up told Cullen it wasn’t about anyone.

Who cares that I want it to be about me? Every girl wants it to be about her. I’ve officially become like every other girl.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out. Of course it’s Luke. That charming bastard.

I consider ignoring it. Reading it when I get home. Like that will show him. I won’t even know what you sent me for the next fifteen minutes, so there.

But of course I don’t because I’m helplessly in love with him.

(Just kidding. I’m kidding. I’m totally not in love with Luke.)

LUKE

Just checking in on you after the other night. Also, happy weekend! YouTube: Sponge “Molly”

This time, I take a minute to click on the link and let it play me home before responding. Sponge is a favorite of Phil’s. One of the first bands he made me study. Every LP of theirs somehow comes off sounding like it was recorded in a church basement, but you can’t help falling for their jaunty drumbeats.

I’d say the best modern-day equivalent I’ve found is the British band The Wombats, which Phil unequivocally denies but I’m pretty sure is dead-on. His ears are old. He doesn’t know.

As I round the corner to my house, I see not only my mom’s car in the drive but Phil’s old beater Chevy S10, too, and for the very first time in my life, it occurs to me that I could walk in on something.

Like, something something.

Not that I’d be opposed. I love Phil, and he’s so good to my mom. And Lord knows she deserves someone good. But, also, it’d be pretty squicky if, like, their tongues were in each other’s mouths. Yes, they’ve been together for over a year, and yes, I know they are sexing it up. I just don’t need to see it.

I fling open the front door, making sure to be extra loud. I hear the clatter of dishes and water running, so I head to the kitchen. My mom’s at the table, coffee in her cup and a smile on her face, and Phil’s at the sink, rinsing a plate. The utter domesticity of it all catches in my throat.

“Hey, baby,” my mom says, not looking caught in the slightest.

“Hey, Mom. Heeeeeeey, boss,” I say, raising an eyebrow at Phil.

“Afternoon, kid,” Phil says, unperturbed. I swallow hard, and he puts down the dish. “Oh no, what happened?”

I shake my head, speechless, even as my eyes well up. He crosses the room toward me, uncertain, but holds out his arms. I dive into them burying my head in his chest, a sob breaking free.

“Vada!” my mom says, alarmed. I hear the scraping of her chair, and she’s next to me, her hand at my hair, stroking.

But I can’t stop crying. I hold on tighter, and to Phil’s credit, he doesn’t let go. This is definitely not something we do on a regular basis. Our relationship is mostly professional, except when he cusses at me for throwing out his cigarettes.

Something in me broke, though, seeing him at my kitchen sink looking for all the world like he belonged, calling me kid. So stupid, I know. But it was sort of everything. After a