Smitten - Lauren Rowe Page 0,34
whatever Reed said to you, he was dead wrong. I listened to a song of yours on IG last night and it was amazing.
Shit. Fish listened to a song of mine before I’d thought to scrub my account? I’m mortified.
Me: Please don’t judge me by what you heard. That’s the same stuff Reed said wasn’t good enough. And he was right.
Fish: No, he wasn’t! Reed’s word isn’t gospel. Before he signed my band, he told me the best thing I could do was to bow out of 22 Goats and let Dax become a solo artist. Was he right about that?
Me: He did not say that!
Fish: He did. I didn’t tell Dax about it at the time. But I told Colin and he goes, “Prove him wrong!” So that’s what I did. And that’s what you’ll do, too, Little Lioness. Prove. Him. WRONG.
I feel electrified. Like everything I’ve been feeling all day, writing this new song, is dovetailing with what Fish is telling me. Like Fish, contacting me now, is a sign from the universe that I’m on the right track.
Me: Don’t worry about me. I know I seemed like a total wreck last night, but this morning I’ve been writing the best song, ever. I’m just putting the finishing touches on it now. From the ashes rises the phoenix, right?
Fish: YASSSS! Record the song and send it to me RIGHT NOWWWWW!
Me: Uh . . . no.
Fish: YES!
Me: No. I always play every new song for Georgina first, remember?
Fish: Rules are made to be broken!
Me: In concept, yes. But you intimidate the hell out of me! You’re the guy who wrote “Delightful Damage”!
Fish: All the more reason to send it to me. I already loved what I heard on your IG, didn’t I? So, I’ll love this, too!
Hmm. He’s got a point. And I admit I’d love to get his feedback on the song . . .
Me: I need a few days to polish it up, and then, MAYBE, I’ll gather the courage to send it to the genius who wrote one of my all-time favorite songs.
Fish: You’ve got a couple days. And then I’m going to start nagging you mercilessly.
I smile broadly to myself. He’s assuming we’re going to keep in touch after this conversation?
Me: Deal. But only if you sing me “Delightful Damage.”
Fish: Uhhhh. The thing is . . . I’ve never sung that song for anyone but Dax and Colin.
Me: Cool. I can’t wait to be your first.
I wait. And wait. And, finally, Fish sends me a thumbs-up emoji, followed by this message:
Fish: So, heeeyyyyy, girl. Before you bounce to Boston tomorrow, you want to come to my place for dinner tonight? No bull will be on the menu. Only fish. (Note the lowercase spelling.)
“Oh my God!” I whisper-shout to the ceiling of my bedroom. I can’t believe I just got asked out on a date by someone I actually like for the first time in my life—and I have to turn him down.
Me: Thanks SO MUCH for the invitation. I’d loooooove to come to dinner tonight. But, unfortunately, I promised my mom I’d hang out with her on my last night here, since I’m not coming back until Thanksgiving.
As I press send, I literally whimper with distress, even though a piece of my brain knows it’s probably for the best. If I were to go to Fish’s place tonight, and finally kiss him, I’d surely fall hard for him. Even harder than I already have. And what good would that do me, with me in Boston and Fish traipsing around the world, playing arenas?
Fish: No worries. Family first. Have a good time with yo momma. Hopefully, I’ll get to make you that fish dinner when you’re back in LA for Thanksgiving. Although I usually go to Seattle for T-Day, so . . .
He adds a frownie-face to the end of his message—which accurately reflects my actual facial expression in this moment. The good news, though? It seems Fish is willing to stay in touch with me for months!
Me: If you’re in LA when I’m back, then I’d LOVE to see you again. Even if it’s only five minutes! And, of course, if you’re ever in Boston, or anywhere on the East Coast, let me know and I’ll come see you, if that’d be okay.
Fish: I’d LOVE it! Hey, would you want to FaceTime with me tonight after you’re done hanging out with your mom? I’m a night owl, so you could call me any time. I’d