41. Chapter 41
I show up late to the party.
I wasn’t planning on it, but after returning home from the farm, I started questioning everything, from what I should wear to how I should approach Carter, if he even decided to show up tonight. I’m hoping—praying—he’s decided to make it, especially since the success of Crash & Burn’s album is partly because of him. Still, it’s not his scene, so I can’t say for sure. And then I started spiraling, wondering whether I was too late and our story had been ruined.
By the time I finally decided to push myself out of the house, with messy hair and asymmetrical winged liner, I had to say to hell with it and rush to the venue. Not like there was much I could do now anyway.
In the end, Finn was right. You’re never going to walk into a good situation without risk. And after a month separated from Carter, I can say it was a good situation. I’ll never be as happy as I am when I’m with him, and if he’s the key to my happiness, then I can’t keep myself away from him out of fear. I’ve been a coward, and Dad would tell me it’s not the way he raised me. Life’s too short to play it safe, and despite everything, I believe in Carter. Believe in us.
The bar is jam-packed when I step inside, the first act bowing as the audience cheers for her. I missed the entire set. I clap anyway, looking left and right, trying to recognize familiar faces. I can barely walk over to the bar with the amount of people swarming the place, shouting and laughing, beers sloshing over cups onto the sticky floor.
There’s no break between the two acts. The moment the singer walks off stage, the scene techs step on to arrange the set for the band, and not long after, the lights shut off. Screams erupt through the small room, and even with the nerves tightening my insides, I start cheering with the rest of the audience. I’m so proud of how far these guys have come, from that first night at the club, when they’d barely gotten their first taste of performing.
When the guys walk on stage, it’s without a fuss, waving along to their fans. The decibels crank up, and I can’t help but laugh at the way the guys who left their boxers lying around and got into burping contests are now being treated like stars.
“Let’s hear it!” Ethan shouts in the mic.
The screams become almost unbearable, but even as I try to muffle the sounds with my hands over my ears, I can’t stop smiling at the level of excitement they’re receiving.
Once Ethan has motioned for the crowd to quiet down, he goes into a speech thanking everyone for their support of their first album and tour and for getting them nominated for the AMAs. I try to keep my focus on him—I’m here for the band, after all—but my body keeps twisting around, hoping to spot a familiar head of tousled hair, but with the way I’m being pushed in all directions, it’s almost impossible to see.
“And there are also a few other people we need to thank.” He begins by thanking their agent, their tour manager, the people from the label who believed in them in the first place. “Lil,” he adds, “our promoter extraordinaire.” Somehow, a spotlight finds me in the crowd, and I blow them kisses, those people who’ve gone from strangers to lifelong friends in a matter of months.
“And finally, we need to send a million thanks to the person who brought our music from good to great.”
My breath somersaults, body stilling as I wait for Ethan’s next words.
“Andrew Carter, we could never have done it without you.”
The spotlight moves away from me, and I follow its tracks as it leads to a body leaning against a wall in the far corner of the room, arms crossed in front of his chest, a blush covering his face.
And his gaze is right on me.
It’s as if I’ve put my hand in a power outlet, like my entire nervous system gets overpowered. As soon as the light returns to the stage and Emmett rips the first chord of “Be My Guest,” I trudge a path to Carter. He never looks away from me, and I might be imagining it, but I’d swear his face softens the closer I get.
“Hi,” I whisper once I reach him, the blaring music swallowing the sound.
“Hi,” he answers, uncrossing his arms, then bunching his hands at his sides as if he was going to reach out at first .
“I was hoping you’d be here tonight.”
His throat works on a swallow, eyes searching mine.
“I miss you.”
His lashes flutter, and for a moment, he almost looks in physical pain. “Don’t do this.”
“Do what?”
“Give me false hope.”
My breath catches, but just as I go to answer, the band moves into the next song of the set, which is a ballad they rarely play, one that always makes me emotional for some reason.
Hoping he’ll see this as an answer, I hold out my hand. “Will you dance with me?”
There’s still something like fear in his gaze, but after a moment of hesitation, he nods, then moves to take my hand, watching it like it’s a treasure trove before slowly sliding his fingers between mine. His touch feels like a tentative caress, and the simple glide of the pads of his fingers against my palm makes my body tingle. He squeezes my hand once, then tightens his grip as he pulls my body flush to his. My free arm wraps around his shoulders and neck, making me arch my back so I can keep looking at him while his other hand falls against my side to land on my hips, a position that’s safe but that still sends thrilling memories rushing past.
As we slowly sway back and forth to the music, I absorb the lyrics, my eyes closing at the feel of Carter’s body against me after all these days of wanting from afar, Ethan’s voice crooning about finding true love. I know we need to talk, but I want another minute of simply enjoying his presence .
“I love that song,” I say against his collarbone. He’s wearing a white dress shirt, unbuttoned at the collar to give a perfect view of his Adam’s apple and the top of his chest. His skin smells so good it almost hurts.
“Yeah?”
“One of my favorites of theirs.” If everything goes according to plan, it should be featured on Crash & Burn’s second album, the one they’re almost done recording. They first played it on tour last July, and I couldn’t help my tears. The lyrics, the melody… It all spoke to me.
“It’s mine, actually.”
I look up. “What?”
“I, um, I wrote it. Play on it too, on the record.”
I stammer something as I bring my attention to the music once more, even looking back at the scene to make sure I’m not imagining things.
I could fight it, but it’s true
From the start, it had to be you
I turn back to Carter, blinking fast. “W-when did you write this?”
His thumb traces a pattern on my hip bone, a small movement that redirects all my nerve endings to that exact spot. “A long time ago.”
My eyes well up, and I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s the thought that time and time again, he’s proven his love to me, and my self-doubt is what got the best of me, or maybe it’s just the fact that, just like the song says, it always had to be him .
“I threw away the papers.”
He misses a step. “What?”
“Burned them, actually. Before coming here.”
“I don’t…” He doesn’t finish his sentence, studying me like I’m a complex theorem.
“I’m ready, Andy.”
He blinks rapidly, love transforming his expression, his very features. How did I ever doubt this was real?
“I can’t stay away anymore.” I lick my lips. “Don’t want to, actually.”
His hands become firmer around me as if he needs to make sure I’m real, that I’m not going anywhere.
“Tell me again how you feel about me.” I curl a hand over his cheek, the stubble rough under my palm. “Tell me again, and I promise I’ll say it back this time.”
He remains silent, but his face is alive with emotion, with questions and answers.
“Or actually, don’t,” I say. “Because the way I feel about you has nothing to do with how you feel about me.”
Carter stops moving, keeping us still in a wave of swaying bodies, Ethan’s melodic voice blanketing us.
“I love you not because you love me but because you’re you , and that was the only thing I needed to fall in love.” I shrug. “When I picture my future, it makes no sense without you in it. You’re my one love, too.” Even if at some point I wished I could’ve fallen for anyone else, there’s no denying it. With his hands on my body and his presence near me, I feel like myself again. My lower lip trembles as I add, “For better or for worse, right?”
“Do you really mean that?” He breathes in deeply, his gaze so unlike the empty one I saw when we first met. “Because if you do, then I’m going to kiss you now.”
I don’t give him the time to make that decision. Instead, I climb on my toes and tug him down so his lips crash onto mine.
The taste of him feels like inhaling after being held underwater for a long time, like your body is refilling on something vital. Whoosh , my heart goes, again and again, overwhelmed to finally be home, to have gotten back the part of me that only exists when he’s there. The part that’s willing to move forward, to accept the things that happened, and to trust in the future. The part that wants to experience everything and that believes someone can love me just the way I am.
Carter’s hands move from my hips to land on my back and behind my head, pulling me so close to him I’m crushed to his chest, lungs squeezed tight as his tongue traces the seam of my lips. I open for him, relishing the feel of him in my mouth, under my nails, against my stomach. He nips at my bottom lip and then at my chin, and I forget all about the people around us, my only concern being my need for him.
As I whisper his name, his nose brushing against mine, eyes glimmering under the spotlights, he says, “I missed you so goddamn much.”
I hug him tight, relishing the way his heartbeat feels against my cheek. I’m right here , it says .
Carter pulls back slightly so he can stare at me for a long time, his thumbs brushing over my lips, my cheekbones, my nose, and then his face splits into the biggest, most precious smile I’ve ever seen. “This is real?”
“Yeah.” I grin back, restraining myself from jumping in his arms. “It’s real.”
As if stealing the idea from my head, he picks me up and spins me around once, he too having forgotten about the people around. He kisses me again, allowing me to taste the smile on his lips. There are no secrets remaining, no faking our way around, no hesitation around our feelings. He is mine, and I am his.
And later that night, when we are back home in our own little world and he makes love to me, each one of his touches showing me how much he cherishes me, I find myself thinking: it doesn’t get any more real than this.