that I’ve almost texted him. But I never follow through, because it’s been months since we last spoke. I wouldn’t even know where to begin.
To Gigi, I say, “When you get back to New York, can you please tell him that I said thank you?”
“Oh, he won’t be back in New York for a little while,” she says. “The label decided to send the band on a small tour.”
She waits for me to let this sink in, then she adds, “He’s in LA tonight, actually. It’s their first show.”
I blink. “Really?”
Beside me, Kerri says, “Seriously, you didn’t know? I thought you purposely weren’t mentioning it because … well, you know.”
“I still don’t have social media,” I say weakly. “Isn’t that where most people get their news?”
Putting on her agent hat, Kerri pulls out her phone and shows me a flyer for the band’s show. It’s at a venue about thirty minutes away, and it started at 8:00 P.M. It’s most likely almost over now.
My heart starts beating a little faster. It’s telling me something, but I don’t know what it’s saying. I look at Gigi again, the same face I’ve turned to time and time again for advice. She meets my gaze and nods.
That’s it, just a nod. It could mean anything.
It’s up to me to interpret it however I wish.
“Um,” I say, “I think I’ll go to the show … now.”
* * *
James drives like a bat out of hell, but I don’t care. I wish we could fly to the venue in a high-speed spaceship like in his Aliens Attack Earth movies. I just need to get there.
Kerri and I are squished in the back seat with my parents, who are both understandably confused by tonight’s recent turn of events.
“Fill me in, please, Evie Marie,” Dad is saying. “Who is this Milo person, and why is he so important to you?”
“Um, he’s just this boy I know,” I answer.
Kerri turns to narrow her eyes at me. “I think that is a severe understatement.”
“He’s her star-crossed musician boyfriend,” James says from the front seat. “Come on, Andrew. Get with the program.”
Dad blinks like he didn’t know there was a program he should be getting with.
“You have a boyfriend?” Mom says to me. “Is this the boy from the US Weekly article? How long have you been dating?”
I shake my head. “James is exaggerating. Milo isn’t my boyfriend, and we aren’t star-crossed lovers.”
“I guess that depends on how you define star-crossed,” James says.
Kerri huffs. “I’ll settle this and look up the definition right now—”
“Everyone, please be quiet!” They all turn to look at me, and I hold a hand over my stomach. “This is already nerve-racking enough.”
Gigi twists in the passenger seat and gently pats my knee. “It’s all right, my love. It’ll be all right.”
Her words calm me, but only briefly.
My heart is beating out of control, and the pace doubles when James pulls up to the venue.
I hop out of the car like it’s on fire.
“Should we wait for you?” Gigi asks.
“No, no,” I call as I run toward the door. “I’ll figure out a way home!”
There isn’t a line anymore. Two security guards stand outside, smoking cigarettes. When they turn to face me, a bit of the tension in my stomach eases.
“Adrian?” I say, looking at him in surprise. “They brought you all the way from New York?”
“Of course they did,” he says. “I’m officially on their security team.” His expression softens as he looks at me. “It’s good to see you again. Your hair is different.”
I run a finger through my curls, which are a bit longer now. “It’s growing back.”
“I meant you’re not wearing a wig.”
“Oh yeah. That too.” I take a breath. “Look, Adrian, I don’t have a ticket, but I really want to see him—”
“Go ahead,” he says, interrupting me. “It’s packed, but I have a feeling you’ll find a way to get to the stage.”
“Thank you.” I squeeze his hand, trying to show just how grateful I am, and he waves me on.
The venue is at least three times the size of The Goose’s Egg, and it’s three times as packed as any of their previous shows. And it’s dark. The only things I can see are a mob of people and the stage in the distance.
There they are, playing like they’ve been doing it forever. Raf crooning into the microphone. Ben and Vinny playing the drums and saxophone as if their lives depend on it.
And Milo staring down at his fingers,