Reckless Abandon (16 page)

Rae swallows hard, forces the most uncomfortable smile I’ve ever seen, and heads into her room.

“Thanks a lot, Mon,” I huff as I turn to follow Rae.

I find Rae shoving hangers from left to right in her closet, seemingly without purpose.

“Rae ...what Monica said about Adrian ...” I sit on the edge of her bed.

“No, Ember, it’s fine. I saw you two holding hands after our first meeting, and I didn’t think it was anything. I didn’t think you’d move on—” She cuts herself off, shrugs and turns toward me with glistening eyes. My stomach slides away. “I’ve seen it too, you know. The past few weeks, the way your face changes when Bowan’s around. It gave me hope, I guess.”

I find myself scanning every conversation Bo and I have had with an audience. We’ve been professional, but that doesn’t mean eyes and smiles cooperate.

“It’s not about moving on, Rae.”
Why am I defending myself here?
“Shit, you know, maybe I should just go home—I can pay you for my ticket.”

“That’s bullshit, November, don’t do that. I know Bo hurt you. I was just hoping that by now he would have proven that he didn’t mean to.” She sniffs and slides a teal spaghetti-strapped dress over her tiny frame.

“I know he didn’t
mean
to, Rae...and the stuff with Adrian—Monica doesn’t even know what she’s talking about. Please don’t say anything.” I rub my damp palms along the edge of her comforter.

Can this get any worse?

Rae sits next to me with her hands between her knees. “I won’t say anything to Bo. Just...please don’t lead him on, OK? He’s in love with you, and if you give him even a sliver of hope that gets destroyed, he’ll be crushed.” She’s not looking at me; she’s talking to her closet.

Yes, this is much worse.

“I haven’t meant to lead him—”

“I know you haven’t. I’m not saying you have, but cut the bullshit banter with Ainsley, OK? It only fuels her fire, and gives Bo a reason to think ...” She shakes her head and looks at her hands.

“I’m sorry, Rae.”

“I love you, November. You know that? For me, you’re like a sister and that won’t change. But you were the best thing that happened to Bo, and I don’t care what anyone says about how fast, crazy, and reckless
it was. It was you two. It was
your
story, no one else’s.”

I pull her into a tight hug, fighting tears for something I can’t identify. I’m upset that Rae is hurting over me and Bo, my best friend isn’t on my side, and a gorgeous fiddle player I barely know senses the screwed-up war raging inside me. I haven’t let myself fully reassess my true feelings for Bo s
ince I left Adrian’s hotel room
that night
, and right now is not the time to start. I’ve been proud of how we’ve handled our working situation, but it seems like that isn’t working for more than one person involved. Before I can give it any more thought, Monica comes in holding my ringing phone.

“It’s Adrian,” she says dismissively.

Caller ID, you traitorous bitch.

I grab my phone and answer, while I head down the stairs and outside.

“Hey you, what’s up?”

“Not much, babe, haven’t heard from you since Tuesday night.” His voice tenses my insides.

“Adrian, I’m so sorry. This week I had like eight hundred teleconferences, and we’ve got the concert tonight—”

“Who’s going?” I hear him swallow what I can only assume is beer, based on his cool tone.

I clear the shakes from my throat. “Um, me, Monica, Josh, Bo, Regan, and Rachel.”

Silence.

“Adrian? Is that a problem? I can ditch and come see you.”

Did I just say that?

“Nah, it’s cool, Blue. Just do you, remember? I know who you’re coming to tomorrow.” The cocky smile is evident over the phone and makes me simultaneously roll my eyes and smile.

“I’ll
talk to you later. I miss you.”
I really d
o
.

As soon as I hang up, I hear footsteps behind me on the porch.

“Ready? Who was that?” Bo asks as he snaps a leather cuff around his wrist.

“Just my parents. Oh my God, listen to this.” I get closer and lower my voice, telling him about them going to San Diego to hit the studio again.

“That’s awesome, November! I can’t wait to hear their new stuff.” He really can’t.

I roll my eyes and chuckle. “We’ll see ...”

“Oh stop, they’re great and you know it.” He playfully taps my shoulder, and for the first time since I walked blindly away from him, I feel
i
t
.

With closed eyes, I dip my ear to my shoulder and take a slow breath. In the span of a second, the front door opens and Bo shoves his hand into his pocket as our friends gather on the porch.

“All right, guys,” Monica starts, “we can all fit into my car since Josh is meeting us there.”

Bo rubs the back of his neck, leaving his hand in place. “Actually, I’m gonna take my car, too. Ember, will you ride with me?” Everyone turns to stare at me.

Oh for fuck’s sake. Are we seventeen? Seriously? Breathe. Get your shit together, Harris.

“Sure, let’s go.” I head for Bo’s car, pushed forward by the collective breath everyone was holding.

When we exit the driveway, Bo turns the music down.
Please not now
.

“I wanted to get you alone for a few minutes.” He rubs his hand on the top of his thigh.

“Why?” Cursing the late summer sunset, I attempt to cover my red cheeks by looking out the window.

“You love Coldplay. I don’t want tonight to be ruined for you. We don’t have to sit next to each other.” He glances my wa
y as I mentally scan the group.
Crap
.

“Like that wouldn’t be obvious.” I chuckle. “Two couples book-ended by us.”

“Are Regan and Rae a couple?” Bo turns to me in complete seriousness.

“Take it easy, you know what I mean.” I wave my hand.

A few minutes later, I realize neither one of us has turned the music back up. Bo sees me eye the dials and reaches for the volume. I block him with my hand, and a zap of static electricity causes both of us to chuckle uneasily. I clear my throat.

“Listen.
I need to tell you something.”
Just say it
.
“I know you didn’t
mean
to hurt me.” I take a deep breath, swallow a three-ton boulder, and continue, “I just, um, it was a lot all at once. You, me, the music, the perfection of it all. I felt like someone shot me from a catapult, and I was flying through the air with flailing arms and legs.”

“Were you looking for an out?” Bo doesn’t remove his eyes from the road. His jaw punches the skin on his cheek.

“What?”

“Were you looking for an out? Did what happened at McCarthy’s give you the excuse to run from our intensity that you were looking for?”

I stare at Bo, waiting for him to exhale, to tell me he was kidding, that he understands why I ran.
Do you understand why you ran
? He doesn’t say a word. We pull into the parking lot of the concert hall with the heavy, unanswered question leaving me to wonder if my fight-or-flight mechanism is faulty. Bo puts the car in park and gets out without a word, slamming the door behind him. When I walk up to the group, it seems Bo’s face has spoken for both of us. No one says anything, except Monica; but she at least waits until she can pull me aside.

“What the hell happened in the car?” She whispers with all the concern she’s been lacking over the past few weeks.

“I was honest. I told him I knew he didn’t mean to hurt me; that everything with us moved really fast. He asked if I used Bill and Tristan as an excuse to bail.” I hand my ticket to the person at the gate.

“Christ, what’d you tell him?”

“I didn’t answer.”

Monica stops in her tracks, shakes her head, and links arms with Josh. As promised, when we reach our seats, Bo and I take the last two. I opt for the very end, so I don’t hav
e to deal with people I know on
both
sides of me.

* * *

Coldplay has me completely hypnotized. My eyes haven’t moved from the stage throughout the entire concert. My mind, body, and soul are more than thankful for the musical reprieve, prompting a momentary cease-fire between them. I peek at my cell phone and realize they probably only have two songs left in their set, when they start playing “Trouble.”

I listened to this song on repeat, all girl-like, for a week after Bo and I broke up. I don’t know if I pretended it was for me or him; either way, the notes lean me back in my seat and sink my shoulders. I cast my gaze to the floor as the opening line sugg
ests I may have “lost my head.”
Or was it Bo who lost his
? Bo shifts in his seat and his arm presses into my shoulder; he doesn’t move it. Biting my lip, I glance up at him, only to find him staring at me with a furrowed brow.

“Come with me.” He nods his head and crosses in front of me, exiting to the aisle.

Rae is sitting in the seat next to his and shrugs before mouthin
g
g
o
. I oblige. When I get into the mezzanine, Bo is a good distance ahead of me.

“Hey wait up!” I shout, slowing his pace. “What the hell?” I ask as I shoulder up next to him.

“I want to show you something. I know you’re slammed with more meetings tomorrow and we won’t have time .  .  .”

“You’re taking me out of a Coldplay concert t
o
show me something
?” I stop and put my hands on my hips.

“Stop standing there and follow me.” He rakes his hand through his hair, as he always does when he’s nervous, and opens the door for me.

Silence mocks us on the walk to the car and on the drive to wherever we’re going, despite the dings of incoming text messages sounding through both of our phones. Within a few minutes, we’re parked in front of the DROP community center, still under construction for the studio they’re putting in.

“I want you to be the first to see the studio. It’ll be finished tomorrow.” While he should be smiling, he’s not. He exits the car and waits for me at the center’s door.

Bo unlocks the door and flicks on the lights. My eyes widen in praise as I take in my surroundings.

“Oh m
y
God
, Bo, this is gorgeous!” My loud whisper bounces off the walls, and all the tension I’ve been holding onto melts into a smile.

The center has undergone a major upgrade in the wake of putting in the studio. It’s modern: computers line one wall, large work tables are pressed up against another, and plenty of tables and couches are scattered around for reading and hanging out. I look back at Bo, who has clearly let go of his tension as well. His face is proud, as it should be.

“You like it?” He holds out his hands, showcasing his dream. I’ve missed the playful smile dancing across his face.

“Are you shitting me? This is amazing!” I head toward the studio addition, and he follows.

“Watch your step here—they’ve got to fix them tomorrow.” Bo holds out his hand and leads me down the narrow stairs.

I can feel his eyes measure each careful step I take without looking up. I
f I look at him in this studio,
hi
s
studio,
hi
s
dream...I don’t think my heart could take it. I spot a gorgeous piano in the corner of the room with what looks to be a Shure Series chrome microphone hanging from the ceiling above it.

“Is that mic hooked up?” I ask without releasing his hand.

What’s happening?

“Yeah, why? You want to try it out?” I think he squeezes my hand, but I can’t be sure—I lost all sense of rational feeling the second he grabbed it.

“Y- yeah.” I have to swallow feeling back into my throat as I tug my hand away and head for the piano.

Bo walks to the control room and plays around with a few switches as I squirm on the hard lacquered bench.

“Don’t stand in there the whole time. It makes me feel weird.” I giggle. “Plus, I need you to hit a “C” for me before I try this out; I have no idea which keys are which.”

His heavy sigh fills the two-way speaker from the control room. Bo walks almost robotically toward me and dings the middle “C” on the piano. I hum in an attempt to tune. He strikes the key one more time. My heart is racing, but I’ve wanted to sing into one of these mics forever—they’re simply stunning and make me feel glamorous. I fly through the song Rolodex in my brain until I settle on the only option, the most beautiful song I’ve ever sung before—“San Diego” by The San Diego Six, my parents’ band.

“The San Diego sun setting in your eyes

The taste of salt and sweet summertime”

Even though my parents only sang with Six until I was about eight, they sang this song to each other often. It’s upbeat and sweet. It sounds like sunshine. My mom always started the song, and I’d blush through the second half of the first verse.