9. Andi #2
“I think this was a message to me,” I murmur. “I think they were counting on me seeing it, somehow.”
The thought has a fresh wave of tears filling my eyes and a broken sob leaves my chest. I sound like a pathetic kicked puppy, but I don’t give a shit.
I curl in on myself, clutching Ezra’s phone to my chest like it’s a lifeline.
They’re coming for me. That’s what Beck said in the song. That’s what he changed the lyrics of the bridge to. I just have to wait for them.
But how long am I supposed to wait for? Will I be able to wait that long?
“Hey,” Ezra murmurs, kneeling in front of me. “Dude, you’re kinda freaking me out.”
“Shut up, let—let a girl cry in peace,” I stutter between gasping sobs.
“Okay, okay, just—you’re okay, right? I haven’t seen you break down like this in a long ass time.”
He’s right. I haven’t cried like a baby in front of him since high school, after some nasty fights with my mom. Seems he’s just as good at comforting me now as he was back then. Which is, not great.
“I’m fine,” I say, wiping at my cheeks. “I just—I think part of me thought they would forget about me, you know?”
“No, I don’t know. You’re pretty unforgettable, Andi.” Ezra runs a hand through his hair and blows out a heavy sigh. “But hey, look, they didn’t forget, see?”
“Yeah,” I nod.
I catch my breath, rubbing at my sternum to try and ease the tightness in my chest.
“Can you open up your phone again? I want to check something.”
“I’ve got the same passcode as before,” Ezra shrugs.
I quickly type it in and scroll down to the description of the music video. I’m looking for the credits on the music video.
And there it is.
Filmed and edited by Cameron Foster and EWP.
Edison Wade Productions.
My dad helped edit this video.
My chest squeezes tight at the thought. He apparently fought all my childhood to try and get me back. This tells me he’s still willing to fight for me, even after everything that happened.
“I have to get a message to them,” I murmur, my mind racing. “We have to figure out a way to communicate. They must have a plan, right? If they’re doing all this?”
“I mean, they probably do,” Ezra says, his brows drawing down. “The internet’s going crazy, by the way. Don’t look at the comments.”
I shove his phone back into his hand before the temptation to check what people are saying grows too strong.
And then I meet his gaze, my eyes bright as I jump to my feet, pacing back and forth in front of his kneeling form.
“Ezra, you said you wanted to help, right?”
“I mean, yeah, but why’re you lookin’ at me like that?”
“Because I need you to figure out some way to contact them, that way we can figure out what their plan is and how to help them help me, you know?” I whirl around and face him, reaching down and gripping his shoulders, shaking him a bit.
This is the first time I’ve voluntarily touched him in private. Fitting that it’s to throttle him to try and convince him to do this.
“I dunno if they’re gonna be very happy to see me,” he mutters, shaking his head. “But fine.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I say, bouncing on my toes, feeling alive for the first time in weeks.
The hope that’s been whittled away by the solitary confinement, the uncomfortable bedding, and the borderline starvation flares back to life with a renewed vigor.
“Let’s try and figure out a way for them to hear you out. We can do this!”
“Sure,” Ezra nods, still kneeling down. “I’ll make it happen, Andi.”
The tension in my chest that’s been present ever since I was locked in here starts to ease.
“Okay,” I nod, taking a step backwards and swallowing past the lump in my throat. “Okay.”
“I’ve... still got that gift I mentioned,” Ezra murmurs, sitting back on his heels and pulling out something else from that ridiculous fanny pack.
“Really? What is it?”
My eyes go wide when he pulls out an old-looking iPod. It has stickers along the back of the old cartoon show I know Ezra liked watching as a kid.
“I—I scrubbed all the music I had on here and downloaded Beckham Knight’s discography for you. Thought... It’d be nice for you to have, you know?”
I take the iPod and wired earbuds with trembling hands.
“You—you really did that for me?” I breathe out.
I never mentioned to anyone that ever since Beck and I started the whole fake-dating situation, I’d listen to his music as I slept.
“Yeah,” Ezra shrugs, averting his gaze. “Even brought you the charger. Make sure to hide it from Stuart and your mom, though. They’d probably freak if they found it.”
“Of course,” I nod, clutching it to my chest.
“His music isn’t bad. Gave some of it a listen. Not my cup of tea but I can see why you like it.”
Ezra’s words have me freezing. He’s always shittalked the kind of music Beck makes, preferring the style of music he makes. I’ve described it as “TikTok Rap,” before, never to his face, because I’m not that big of a bitch.
“You’re joking.” The words leave my lips before I can catch them.
“What?” He grunts, rolling his eyes. “A guy can’t admit his tastes have grown?”
“N—no, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m just... shocked.”
Ezra goes still for a moment before meeting my gaze. “You never acted the way you just did to his single to any of my music. If you like it, there’s gotta be something there, you know?”
“O—oh.”
“Yeah, oh. Now, close your jaw before a bug decides to fly down your throat. We’ve gotta come up with a plan for me to meet your pack.”
“Right. A plan,” I nod, the iPod still clutched in my hand.