Chapter 28
Cricket Jenkins
The DJ plays a slow song, and River pulls me to him, grinning at me. “I think Micah’s insanely jealous right now,” he says quietly in my ear.
I glance over at him. He’s scowling in our direction. Just as I think River might be right, Skyler runs up to him and tugs on his hand to come dance with her, and his scowl disappears. He grins and twirls her around the dance floor.
“Naw. That’s just his default grumpy setting. It comes with any crowd of people.”
River laughs and pulls me tighter. “Are you sure? I’m sensing some major ‘I wish I were with Cricket’ vibes coming from him.”
Butterflies assault my insides. “You think so?”
“I do.”
We dance until the next song comes on. Then River maneuvers us closer to Micah and whispers, “I’m going to make an excuse and leave. You stay and dance with Micah, okay?”
“Where will you go?”
“I saw Kiera leave, and I want to make sure she’s okay.”
“All right.”
Just as Skyler gets distracted and runs off, River steps back from me. “Hey, Micah. Will you take over for me? This loud music is giving me a headache. I need to go find some ibuprofen.”
Micah nods and steps over to me. “Sure.”
River leans close to him. “Take care of her. She’s pretty special.” He claps him on the shoulder before heading out.
Micah holds out his arms, and I step into them.
My entire world settles into something right.
I’m close enough that I can smell his cologne and feel the warmth radiating from his chest, and it makes every nerve ending in my body come alive.
His hand on my lower back sends little sparks shooting up my spine, and when his thumb brushes against my knuckles where he’s holding my hand, I have to concentrate on not shivering.
His gaze slides over me. “You look… beautiful,” he says softly, his gray eyes meeting mine.
My cheeks heat up. River called me beautiful, but for some reason, Micah saying it means everything. “Thanks. You clean up pretty well yourself.”
He’s wearing a dark suit that fits him perfectly, and his usually messy hair is styled just enough to look intentional but still touchably soft. I want to reach up and run my fingers through it, but I grip his hand tighter instead.
We sway to the music, and I’m hyperaware of every point of contact between us. The solid warmth of his shoulder under my palm, the way his fingers curl around mine, the gentle pressure of his hand guiding me through the steps. It’s torture and heaven all at once.
“This is nice,” he murmurs, and his voice sounds different—softer, more intimate.
“Yeah,” I manage, my own voice coming out breathier than I intended. “It is. How are you doing? There aren’t a ton of people here, but I know you usually duck out when places start to get this crowded.”
He smiles at me. “I’m doing okay. Thanks for asking.”
For a moment, we just dance in comfortable silence, and I let myself pretend this means something. That we’re not just friends, that the way he’s looking at me right now means he feels even a fraction of what I feel for him.
He pulls me a little closer. “You know, sometimes I wake up and have to convince myself that I’m not living in a dream. That I really am going to Nashville soon to record for Atlantic Coast Records.”
“It’s amazing. What are you going to do with the money?”
“I’m going to get my own apartment. Be an adult.”
“That sounds like a good idea.”
He ducks his head. “I found an apartment not too far from your parents’ house.”
Before I can say anything to that, Violet comes up to us, holding my clutch purse. “I’m so sorry to interrupt, but your phone has been buzzing. I thought maybe it was important.” She holds my purse out to me.
Micah steps back. “You should check that.”
I reluctantly take my phone out. The text is from my mom, and as I read it, my stomach drops.
Hi sweetheart! Change of plans—Dad and I are cutting the tour short. We’ll be home in eight days instead of after New Year’s. Can’t wait to hear about your semester! Love you.
The blood drains from my face. Eight days? They’ll be home soon, and I haven’t told them about switching to online classes. Or about becoming Micah’s manager. Or about any of the huge changes I’ve made.
I stuff my phone back in my purse and hand it back to Violet. “Thanks so much.”
“Is everything okay?” she asks.
I nod. “It’s fine,” I choke out.
“Okay, good.” Violet pats my shoulder. “You two keep dancing. I’ll take this back to the table.” She scurries away with my purse.
Micah pulls me to him, and we start swaying to the music again. “What was that about?” His voice is concerned. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“My parents,” I whisper. “They’re coming home early.”
“Oh.”
I try to take in a breath, panic rising in my chest. Micah stops dancing, his brow furrowing with concern. “What’s wrong?”
“I haven’t told them anything. About being your manager, changing to online school… any of it.”
“Cricket, it’s going to be okay. They’ll understand—”
“No, they won’t.” The words come out sharper than I intended. “My father especially. He’s going to think I’m throwing my life away.”
Micah grips my arms. “It’s going to be okay, Cricket.”
I look around the reception, suddenly feeling claustrophobic. “Can we… can we get some air?”
Without waiting for an answer, I head toward the exit that leads to a small balcony overlooking the Strip. Micah follows, his hand warm on my lower back as he guides me outside.
The December air is crisp and cool, and I wrap my arms around myself, more from nerves than cold. Micah misunderstands and shrugs out of his suit jacket, placing it over my shoulders. I pull it tight around me just to ground myself. To smell his scent wrapped around me.
“Cricket,” Micah says gently, turning me to face him. “Are you sure it’s not the right time to stand up to your father?”
I take a shaky breath. “I want to. I really do. It’s just… he controls my tuition money, so…” I shrug helplessly. “And now I’ve not only switched to online classes without asking, but I’ve agreed to manage your career instead of focusing on getting a ‘real job’ in marketing.”
“Managing my career is a real job, Cricket. You’re incredible at it.”
I laugh bitterly. “Try explaining that to my father. He thinks anything related to music or entertainment is frivolous, just like my writing. He’ll see it as me chasing another pipe dream.”
Micah shakes his head. “He runs a successful business. Maybe he will see what you’re doing as a business too.”
I hesitate. “Maybe, but I doubt it. For some reason, he’s insisting that I go into marketing.”
“You got me signed to a major label. I did my research. You should get a nice check when my money comes.”
My gaze snaps to his. I’d done my research, too, but I hadn’t really thought about the money. “I’m not doing this for the money,” I blurt out.
His gaze softens. “I know. But it will help you be more independent. You can pay your own tuition. Make your own decisions.”
I chew my bottom lip. I hadn’t thought about that before. Micah’s right. If I could pay for my own school, my father wouldn’t have anything hanging over me anymore. “That sounds nice.”
He pulls me to him. “Want to finish that dance?”
“Yes.” I shrug out of his suit jacket and hand it back to him. “Come on.”
We go back to the dance floor. A different song is playing, but we pick up exactly where we left off. Slipping back into his arms feels like coming home.
Micah smiles at me. “Have you written any more of your book? You know I’m dying for more of your story.”
I blush and look away. “No.”
“Why not?”
I want to tell him I haven’t had time. That I’ve been too busy with other things, but deep down, I know it’s a lie. I want to finish this book; it’s just a little scary for me. “I don’t know,” I whisper.
Micah presses his hand to my lower back, pulling me closer. “Talk to me,” he whispers. “Why can’t you finish the book?”
“I’m scared,” I whisper.
“Of what?”
“Because then I’ll have to do something with it. Submit it to agents, or publish it myself. And what if it’s not as good as I think? What if I get rejected over and over? What if it doesn’t sell? What if my father was right, and I’m just living in a fantasy world?”
Micah’s eyes narrow, and I can feel him tense. “He said that to you?”
“Yeah.”
He lets out a frustrated breath. “You don’t deserve that. I’ve read your work. It’s amazing.”
I look up at him. “But what if no one else thinks so? What if I can’t get published?”
Micah leans down closer to me. “Cricket, listen to me. After our conversation the other day, I did some research about impostor syndrome.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. And I learned something important. If you were actually an impostor, if you really weren’t talented, you wouldn’t have impostor syndrome.
The fact that you have these fears, these doubts?
It’s actually proof that you care about the quality of your work. It’s proof that you’re the real thing.”
His thumb brushes across my knuckles. “You are talented, Cricket. You are going to make your dreams come true. I have complete faith in you.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I know you. I’ve watched you pour your heart into your writing.
I’ve seen the way your eyes light up when you talk about your characters.
I’ve read your work and felt every emotion you wanted me to feel.
” His voice drops to almost a whisper. “You have something special, Cricket. Don’t let anyone, not even your father, convince you otherwise. ”
For a moment, we just stand there on the dance floor, his gray eyes intense and sincere. I want to tell him everything—how much his belief in me means, how I’ve been in love with him for years, how being this close to him makes me forget how to breathe.
Instead, I just whisper, “Thank you.”
“Always,” he says softly. He stands there, staring into my eyes. He slowly leans down, and my breath catches. The world stands still as his gray eyes bore through me, seeing into my soul. For a second, I think he might kiss me.
But then the moment breaks as the song ends, reminding us of where we are.
Micah drops his hands but doesn’t step away. “Your parents love you, Cricket. Even if your father doesn’t understand your dreams, he wants you to be happy.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I am. And if he gives you any grief about being my manager, I’ll set him straight. You’re the best thing that’s happened to my career.”
I manage a small smile. “You’re just saying that.”
“I’m saying it because it’s true. You believe in me when I don’t believe in myself. You see potential I can’t see. You make me brave.” He pauses, his expression growing more serious. “I’m lucky to have you.”
My heart does a little flip at his words. I don’t speak because I’m afraid of my voice giving my emotions away.
He smiles, that soft, genuine smile that makes my knees weak. “Come on. Let’s go get something to eat. I’m famished.”
As we head toward the table of food, I feel lighter somehow. My parents are still coming home early, and I still have to face my father’s disappointment. But knowing Micah believes in me, knowing he has faith in my dreams, makes everything seem a little less impossible.
And maybe, just maybe, I’ll find the courage to finish my novel after all.