Chapter 16
16
Caleb
After Mary Kate leaves the bar, I can feel Valerie’s anxiety sharp in the air, like static before a storm. I’ve always been attuned to her emotions, but something about sharing a bed last night made our connection so much stronger, like I can once again read her mind.
I also want her so bad it hurts.
She stares down at her unfinished drink, and I know she needs reassurance right now, not more flirting. “That was brave,” I say softly.
She scoffs, glancing up at me with a stubborn tip of her chin, but there’s uncertainty in her eyes. “Was it? I barely said anything.”
“We could have played up our relationship more, you know,” I say with a wry grin, elbowing her in the side.
I hoped for a laugh, but this at least gets me a smile. “I think keeping it vague is better. Besides, you said you didn’t want to lie to anyone.”
Is it a lie? I want to ask, but I hold my tongue. She’s in no mood for teasing, or trying to get to the heart of whatever might be going on between us. “Fair enough. But speaking up for Roxanne, refuting Theo’s lies—that took guts.”
She sighs, stirring her drink. “I don’t know if it’ll work. All of my media training says not to respond to rumors, but it’s gotten to the point that I couldn’t just stay silent anymore. Everyone loves Theo—I’m not sure if they have enough reason to believe me instead. At least Mary Kate is one of the good ones, and she gave me a chance to try.”
Even knowing how much Valerie needed this, it was hard to go into the interview—but Mary Kate made it almost painless. A warm feeling spreads in my chest, and I know it’s more than just the wine. I’m starting to believe this industry isn’t all that bad.
At least, not when I get to be next to Valerie.
I nod. “I think it’ll be a great piece.”
Valerie bites her lip. “Are you still feeling anxious about all of this?”
And there she is, caring about me even when she’s the one having the worst day. I want to lie—I want to protect her from the guilt I know it will bring, but enough people in Valerie’s life have lied to her lately. She deserves truth from me, at least.
“How could I not be anxious? I thought I closed this chapter a long time ago,” I admit.
Valerie takes a long sip of her drink. “Do you regret coming back?”
“No,” I say quickly. She looks up, and there’s so much damn hope in her eyes I can’t look away. But this is also the truth, and I can’t do anything but be honest with her. “I thought I would, but I don’t regret it. Not for a second.”
“That’s good,” she says. “I’m…I’m really glad you came.”
“Me too.”
We sit in silence for a bit, me drinking the last sips of my fruity rosé, her finishing the dregs of her cocktail.
“Do you want to go out on a date with me?” I ask in a rush, and nearly want to laugh because I sound so damn earnest, like I’m sixteen again and asking her to the homecoming dance. All of that tenuous pretense before our first real kiss.
Valerie gapes. “What?”
I rub the back of my neck, shifting awkwardly on my barstool. “We’ve talked about feeding our relationship to the media, but we haven’t actually gone out very much. We should go somewhere we’ll get photographed.”
She purses her lips, clearly not convinced, using her straw to stir the ice in her empty mug. “You said you didn’t want to lie to anyone.”
I swallow, getting as close to the truth as I dare. “We haven’t hung out in years, and I want to spend as much time as I can with you before the summer is over.” I lean closer to her, lowering my voice. “Since we have nothing scheduled tonight, we should take advantage of our free time and catch up. That’s not a lie.”
My blood rushes to my head. Maybe this is too honest, but the words are out there, hanging between us. No going back.
Valerie’s cheeks turn the prettiest shade of pink. She opens her mouth as if to argue, then closes it again. “Okay, fine. Where are you going to take me on this date? And it better not be at this hotel because the food is great but I’m tired of this menu.”
Other than Valerie’s dwindling stash of Trader Joe’s snacks, we really have been eating hotel food almost nonstop for weeks. I shouldn’t have an idea already, but I do, because I’ve known Valerie for years and I can’t help but notice things that she’d like.
Or maybe it’s just because I’m still completely gone for her.
My heart swells, and I hurry to tell her my plan before she can change her mind. “There’s this company playing outdoor movies down at the pier, and I know the press have been hanging out because Lola Martinez was spotted a couple of weeks ago. A bunch of food trucks have signed on too, so there’s anything you could possibly want.” And then I bring it on home. “They’re showing 10 Things I Hate About You tonight.”
She laughs happily, placing a hand on my arm. That tiny touch makes me grin like a fool right back at her. “Oh my god, what? That’s my favorite movie!”
The surprise in her eyes is so funny I want to laugh. Our lives were so intertwined that her details became mine, that everything she loved was imprinted into my memory. And I remember everything.
I remember everything almost embarrassingly well. My neck warms. “How could I forget?”
Valerie beams. “Okay, you got me. I’m in.”
Her face lights up so brightly it almost brings me to my knees. Every time she smiles it hits me, how lucky I am to be in her orbit. But it’s never just been an orbit. We collide, again and again, like two stars in an explosion of light and color. I used to be so afraid of the damage in our wake.
The only thing at risk this time is my heart.
After all these years apart, the connection between us is undeniable. Maybe she’s not a star at all. Maybe she’s my gravity—the unstoppable force holding down my universe.
It doesn’t have to be romantic if she doesn’t want it to be, but I’ll be damned if anything stops me from making this night perfect. I can give her that.
We’re both dressed comfortably enough for a night out, so I buy tickets on my phone while Valerie orders a car. LA traffic is always ridiculous, especially on a Saturday night, so we talk about everything and nothing on the trip. I tell her about teaching choir kids, including one particularly awkward moment when the dad of two of my students recognized me in the middle of a booster meeting and asked me to sign a dollar bill, and she tells me about life in the industry for the past six years. Before she started working on Epic Theme Song , she recorded a solo EP and opened for Holly Harper on her tour.
“I wish I could say I’ve heard the EP, but I haven’t,” I admit.
Valerie, to her credit, doesn’t look upset, just curious. “Why’s that?”
“Carrie said it was good, but I never could bring myself to listen to your solo music. It was almost like if I didn’t listen to it, I could pretend things hadn’t fallen apart.”
“And…” she trails off, fiddling with a bracelet. “Why would you want to do that?”
Because it hurt? Because I missed you? I shake my head. “Because every day, I wondered what would have happened if I’d stayed.”
Her lips twist. “Well, you’re here now.” She reaches across the seat to squeeze my hand, and my heart skips a beat. I can’t tell if it’s a friendly gesture or something more. “And besides, the EP was a flop. Didn’t have the same magic as our Glitter Bats stuff.”
I think about Valerie at twenty-one, on her own for the first time without the Glitter Bats and trying to go solo. Even when she doesn’t have her safety net around her, she always shines. “I’m sure you were great.”
“Thank you,” she says, flushing. “Oh look!” She points out the window, leaving my hand to sit on the seat, burning from her touch. But I lean forward and smile when I see what she’s gesturing at.
It’s a billboard advertising our concert. They’re using an old album image from Bittersweet , since we haven’t done any official new photos yet—that’s still a couple weeks out. Before that, though, we have tickets to the premiere of Jane’s newest animated series, which means coming up with red-carpet looks . Fortunately, Keeley knows a stylist willing to drop everything and help us, because I definitely need help after all this time.
The last thing I expected this summer was to walk a red carpet, but I guess we’re doing this all the way. Billboards and all.
“It looks good,” I say, because what else do you say when there’s a sign above the road with your face on it?
Valerie laughs as the car moves forward, and we both settle back into our seats. “People will be disappointed when we don’t look like kids anymore.” She gestures at her face, and I take a moment to really look. It’s not like she’s gotten old— twenty-seven is plenty young, even by the industry’s standards—but her cheeks are less round, and there are a couple of fine lines under her eyes. She looks every bit her age, and it stops my heart more than ever.
“You look better,” I say, unable to stop staring at the woman next to me. I don’t know how it’s possible, but Val’s gotten prettier every day we’ve been apart. Now, it’s hard to look away.
She catches me staring, and flushes. “I’ll say, Mr. ‘I Work Out but Not at a Gym So It Looks Even More Impressive.’?”
My skin tingles at her appraising gaze. “What?”
“The first time I saw you in six years, you were shirtless looking like you just got off a mountain.”
I gape, trying to make sense of this admission that she’d been checking me out that day too. “I did just get off a mountain. I was hiking.”
“Like holy fuck, Caleb,” she swallows, like maybe she’s serious. “That was…a lot to take in. You were like a walking thirst trap.”
I laugh, because what is going on? “I’m sorry?”
“Don’t be,” she says, and there . It’s just a hint, but her tone is suggestive.
Oh hell.
“Alright, then I’ll just be over here trying not to blush,” I admit.
“I like it when you blush.”
“Well, you’re the only one who makes me.” I don’t know why I said it, because suddenly the back of the car is flooded with subtext and history and pure longing. God, I want her.
“Caleb, I—” she begins, but the car comes to a halt.
“Is this it?” the driver asks. I want to curse them for interrupting, but it’s a good thing they did, because I forgot the two of us weren’t alone in this car. It’s this thing Valerie does, like she draws all the light in a space to her and everyone else fades to black.
And I’m like a moth, powerless to look away.
We thank the driver and climb out of the vehicle. It’s a warm summer night, but there’s just enough of a salty breeze coming off the ocean to make it bearable. Valerie closes her eyes for a second and inhales.
“I love the water,” she says, tilting her head back to bask in the sea air.
“I know.” When we were kids, we spent summers at the city pool, since it was cheap and close and didn’t require a parent to take us down to the waterfront. But we both always wished we were out in nature. So when we went out on our first tour, we found ways to see the water. It’s one of the things we used to make time for whenever we were on a new stop. We didn’t have much time for hiking or exploring, but we’d try to find an hour to drive to the ocean, or a lake, or a river.
Sometimes we’d bring a guitar and write a little, and sometimes we’d just let the water center us for a bit.
Valerie’s smiling like she remembers those days all too well.
“I still do that when I’m somewhere new. Try to find water,” she says. “It’s not the same…” I almost think she wants to add without you to that, but she doesn’t. “But yeah, I try.”
“Maybe we can walk on the beach after the movie,” I say. The night hasn’t even begun and I’m still desperate to make it last.
“I’d like that,” Valerie says. “Now let’s go find those magical food trucks.”
She grabs my hand and leads me to the trucks, which are set up in a square like an ever-changing outdoor food court. There’s everything from Korean barbecue to vegan burgers, Cajun to Mexican-Asian fusion, but Valerie makes a beeline for the gourmet grilled cheese truck.
Every moment with Valerie this summer stirs up another memory from our past. This one is of late, bleary nights on a tour bus with a hot plate plugged into the cigarette lighter, feasting on a loaf of bread and a stack of Kraft American Singles. We didn’t have a ton of money coming in right away, so we tried to limit eating out on that first tour, but the results were mixed. When it was Valerie’s turn to cook, she always managed to burn the sandwiches because she was never paying attention.
“I haven’t eaten a grilled cheese in years ,” she admits, a little sheepish, like she remembers the charred crust as much as I do.
“Dairy is terrible for your voice, you know.”
She puts her hands on her hips. “Okay, Mr. Sloane, did you learn that in music school?”
“Actually, I did,” I say, grinning.
“Good thing we’re not singing tonight, then,” she says as we find our spot in line. “What else did you learn in class?”
I pause, trying to think of something that will make her laugh, or at least keep the conversation flowing. And then it hits me. It’s a bad idea, but…maybe I just want to see her reaction. I step closer, lowering my voice so only she can hear.
“Breath control. I can go a long time without coming up for air.”