Chapter 42
Levi
I know I told my mom that I wouldn’t say anything, but when I tracked Tim’s location to some fancy dress store in LA, something told me he wasn’t shopping for himself.
So, when Tim randomly received a bonus deposit with a memo filled with dress and high heel emojis, I didn’t explicitly tell him I knew. ..right?
I got home about an hour ago. Tina and I talked pretty much the entire length of the cab ride from my mom’s hotel back to the house.
It’s a small dent, but I feel good about it.
The majority of the time was spent talking about Gabriella and how I’m supposed to live in this house with her for the next three days.
Tina suggests I apologize again while holding my boundaries in a polite and kind manner, I’m just not sure I’m capable of that.
I walk around the mansion, looking for Gabriella while secretly hoping I don’t find her...and I don’t. She must have left. Maybe she’s plotting my demise. Who knows? I do, however, at some point need to figure out what song I’m going to perform for the show and get it approved by Jan.
I roll open the slider to the backyard and I take my well-worn path past the pool towards the tiny studio on the edge of the property.
In one swift moment, I punch in the code on the door and let myself in.
I’m not sure why it didn’t strike me as odd that all the lights were on, but surprise!
I found Gabriella. Neither of us moves for a long time, but my eyes busy themselves calculating differences.
Gone is all the makeup that I have begun to believe was permanent, and in its place, freshly washed skin.
Her hair is tied into a messy bun instead of some extravagant style, and she’s wearing sweats.
If I wasn’t so familiar with her, I would say she is a different person entirely.
I suck in a gulping breath before taking steps towards the sound booth.
“Gabriella, can we talk?”
“Why would I want to talk to you?” she snaps.
“Maybe I deserve that...”
“Maybe?” she repeats, planting her hands on her hips.
My hands find my hair, pressing my fingers into the part and pushing it back a couple times.
“Okay, you’re right. I could have handled myself better, and I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings. I should have stopped it before it went...there.”
Her mouth cracks into a smile, and from this close, I can see small freckles dusting her lips that are normally buried behind color and gloss.
“Tate really messed you up, didn’t she?”
I move to take a seat on the stool next to hers. “I don’t know if she messed me up or helped put me back together, but I’m working on picking up the pieces. Are we good?”
“Yeah, we’re good. I’m not sure what that was about. I guess I felt threatened. Like, what if you win and all I have to keep is the memories of these last three months.” Her whole body deflates, her shoulders tugging her chest down an inch.
“I’ve thought about it...”
“Really? You? I feel like from day one you knew you were going to win.”
“That was just stubbornness. I think no matter what, Gabriella, you’re talented and something good will come your way.”
“Whoa. Who are you and what did you do with Levi Johnson?” Her smile is bright and genuine.
I laugh and admit to calling my therapist. She listens as I tell her the microwaveable version of why I am the way I am, and it feels good.
Freeing. I’ve spent the past five plus years pretending everything was perfect, pretending I’m perfect.
What a waste. I tell her about my dad, church, my mom, and when I’m done it feels like I just took off a huge, weighted vest.
“You’re really not so bad,” she says, tipping her head to rest on my shoulder. The sky outside has dimmed even further, making the lights of the studio seem that much brighter.
“Thanks, Gabriella. You’re okay too.” I kick my foot out, balancing my leg on the edge of my heel. “So, were you hiding from me in here or were you working on your final song?”
She stands, moving from the chair to the mic, switching it off. “Both. I wanted to try out a couple that I have sung in the past, but nothing feels right. What about you? Have you picked your song?”
A big sigh falls from my mouth. “No, not yet... Maybe we can help each other?”
“What do you mean, like, I pick yours, you pick mine?”
“No, but if you give me your top three, maybe I can help you narrow it down?”
She stares at me, narrowing her eyes in suspicion before a large smile blooms across her face. “Or...how do you feel about giving Jan a taste of her own medicine?”
“In what way?” I ask.
“What if we both do a duet?”
“Huh?”
“You and I sing together. Twice!”
“Okay, how does that mess with Jan? And doesn’t that kinda enlarge our problem? Learning two songs in two days?”
“We will pick songs we both know. Maybe you can even pull out the guitar. And if we both play together...maybe we can both win together?” Her smile is small. Hopeful.
“I...I don’t know. Won’t we just be judged independently like we were in our group competition?”
Her lips twist up. “Maybe, but it doesn’t hurt.”
I stare at her, considering. “Let’s do it! But we better start tonight. I saw a coffee maker in the kitchen. I’ll get that going while you research duets.”
––––––––
About four-ish hours and two coffees later—mine black, hers with a bunch of stuff in it—we are one song down. For Gabriella’s song, we’re going to perform “Over and Over” by Nelly, featuring Tim McGraw.
“The song is perfect!” Gabriella exclaimed when she stumbled upon it.
“Perfect? How so...” I remember questioning.
“Because it’s both hip-hop and country. I’m Nelly and you’ll be Tim. Perfect.”
I didn’t argue, and in some ways, the song was perfect. Nelly is the main voice on the song with Tim just hitting backup vocals. Plus, who doesn’t want to be Tim McGraw? We practiced line by line, combing through the song until the amount of yawns outweighed the lyrics.
“I think we should call it a night.”
“No, no, come on. We’ve got, like, four more run-throughs in us...” she says, yawning the last word.
I laugh. “You’re literally yawning right now. As much as I admire your determination, I’m calling it.”
She stands slowly, her movements like someone treading through water. As soon as she hangs the microphone in the holder, she turns abruptly. “What about your song? We didn’t even pick anything out.”
“Tomorrow’s problem,” I say, smiling as I hold the heavy door to the booth open. She grabs both of our mugs before walking through.
“Oh! Levi.” She sets them down again. “Let’s get a picture for socials.”
I must make a face because she quickly follows up with. “I know you hate social media, but since we’re counting on people voting for both of us, we need to sell it.”
I nod once before she pulls her phone out of nowhere, positions it horizontally, and snaps several pictures of us with the studio equipment as our backdrop.
“Good?” I ask, working to sound neutral.
Her head is tipped downward as she swipes through ten different pictures of me making the same half-smile.
“You should work on that.” Her fingernail bumps my closed-mouth grin. “Maybe a little teeth next time?” She grabs the cups and finally makes it through the door of the studio.
“Maybe!” I say, knowing there is literally no chance. I hit the lights and we both head back to the house.
After I say good night and she goes up to bed, I hang back.
I can’t sleep, I feel too electric. I’m really proud of the work we did and think it will be a great show.
I lock up the bottom floor before heading into the theater room.
I sit back, allowing my whole body to sink into the couch before grabbing the master remote beside me, running through the on-demand library.
A whole lot of nothing. Normally, my go-to is sports, sports highlights, or shows where they talk about sports, but tonight I’m in the mood for something else.
The cursor falls on Matilda and I stop. My eyes track to the spot next to me, where the ghost of Tate sits in my mind.
I can’t believe she’s here. Here to see me.
Tina and I briefly glided over the topic, but one thing she said runs loops in my mind.
“You need to be a whole before you can be someone’s half.
” It’s one of those things that doesn’t make sense but totally makes sense.
I want to be that for Tate, but I also want to be that for me, and you know what, I can’t remember the last time I had a panic attack.
My finger hits the up button to keep scrolling, and then something catches my eye.
Grease. I drop back a couple lines and click on it.
Whoever was watching it before me stopped it halfway through, but I’ve seen it so many times it doesn’t matter.
They’re at the drive-in theatre to see The Blob.
Without thinking, I grab my phone and text Tate.
Levi: Have you ever seen Grease?
I bite at the swell of my bottom lip, trying to focus on the movie. Then my phone vibrates. She texted back, she texted back! It cheers. I look down at my phone and instantly my mouth stretches into a smile that feels too big for my face.
Tate: Tell me about it, Stud.
I read it and read it and read it, along with the accompanying kissy-face emoji. Sure, she’s not actually calling me a stud, but it feels affectionate.
Levi: Wanna watch it with me? Like Matilda?
The three dots appear, and I remember I’m not supposed to know she’s here.
Levi: I mean, like a virtual watch party. Obviously, you can’t watch it with me.
My fingers trip over themselves as they rush to send. The dots disappear only to reappear moments later.
Tate: Netflix?
I hit pause to see exactly how far in I am.
Levi: I’m 48 minutes in.
I go back to watching the movie, happy that we’re talking.
An hour later, my phone buzzes just as Danny appears in a cardigan to the other greasers at the carnival.
I debate answering until the end because it’s the best part of the movie, but it’s Tate.
I pick my phone up as the words from her text run across my screen.
Tate: You’re the one that I want.
The text echoes in lyrics across the room and my mouth is completely dry.
Tate: This is my favorite part.
Levi: It’s iconic
That’s all I could think of to reply. I look at Danny and Sandy dancing their way through the funhouse maze.
They gave up their ways, changed for one another, meeting somewhere in the middle.
Is that not me and Tate? I jump from the couch, my phone falling to the floor in the process. I have my song!