Chapter 28
Rayne
Black Hole (Acoustic Version)—Griff
I pace restlessly in Zoe’s room with my phone in my hand so I don’t miss Easton’s text. It’s almost nine thirty, and our studio booking starts in thirty-seven minutes. If the guys aren’t here to pick me up in the next seven minutes, we’ll definitely be late.
“Rayne, relax.” Mae sips from her cup with a straw. She’s lying on Zoe’s bed, totally chill, while I’m a bundle of nerves. Then again, for her, today is a day like any other. For me, it’s absolutely not.
“Why are you so nervous?” Zoe casts me a curious glance in the mirror, while her hands are busy in her hair creating a very complicated braided updo. It’s gorgeous.
“Because we haven’t seen each other all week and I’m pretty sure it’s going to be weird today,” I say, nibbling on my fingernails.
“You’ve seen each other every day.” Mae raises her eyebrows and tilts her head.
“Yes, during class. But that’s different. We don’t have a chance to talk there. Before, we always used to spend time at his place. But not this week.”
That bothers me. I don’t know how we’re going to react to each other now. Will it only be a little strange, or fully awkward? Can we hug without it being weird? Please, God, I hope so. I need his hugs and closeness. I need us. Like we were before the kiss.
“Maybe you should have done that; then it wouldn’t be so awkward today.”
“Sure, but it could have gotten very complicated, and then today would be worse than it already is.”
“It won’t be awkward. Everything will be fine,” Zoe says, trying to reassure me. “You won’t be alone with him. That will definitely help.”
“Hopefully,” I sigh. If only Easton had just said I didn’t need to come, then everything would be a little easier right now. But that probably would have been the beginning of the end, and that’s not what I want, either.
“Do you want us to come?” Mae offers. “I’m sure Zoe could move her date with Jase, and if you need moral support, we’d be glad to help, wouldn’t we, Zoe?”
“We would, but today I really can’t come. It’s my dad’s birthday, and that means the whole family will be there.” She gives me an apologetic look and reaches for her lipstick.
I dismiss her worry and try to ignore the stab in my heart when I realize that I’ll never celebrate another birthday with Mom and Dad.
Don’t think about it. Just don’t start to think about it now.
“No problem at all,” I say. My voice sounds a little forced. “I’ll be fine. It’s not like we’ve never spent time together before.” I put on a smile that Mae obviously doesn’t find very convincing.
She looks at me critically. “Are you sure? I can come with you by myself if Zoe can’t.”
“That’s sweet, but no. Besides, you have plans with Tristan, don’t you?”
“Yes, but not until tonight. I’d have time until then.”
I shake my head. “I’ll be fine, thanks.” I have to figure this out on my own.
“Okay.” She gazes at me a moment longer, then shrugs and gives me a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She can see right through me. “If you change your mind, just text me. I’ll come and rescue you.”
“I will, but—” I break off as my phone vibrates. My heart skips a beat. It’s a text from Easton.
eastcoleman:
We’re here. Are you coming down?
mockingbird:
Give me two minutes.
“Ready to go?” Zoe asks. She grabs the cream-colored cardigan lying at the foot of her bed and slips it on.
I take a deep breath and force a smile, even though my stomach is starting to flutter nervously. “Yes. Looks like it.”
Mae tosses Easton’s hat to me from the bed. I still haven’t given it back to him. I’ve been wearing it every day instead, consistently ignoring the fact that I definitely shouldn’t be.
“Let us know how it goes, okay? I’ll set up a group chat,” she says before I can even nod in response to her question.
“I’ll call it Ballet Girls. It’s a big cliché, but whatever.
We can always change it later. Now go.” She shoos us out the door, even though she’s still holding her cup in one hand and her phone in the other.
A second later, my own phone vibrates. I’ve been added to a group chat.
“I’ll text you guys later,” I promise, putting on the hat and my winter jacket.
“By the way, East’s hat looks really good on you,” Zoe says. “Jase said I should tell you that.”
I blush. “Thanks,” I murmur, and I’m glad I can disappear now, before Mae laughs. “See you later.”
“Have fun!” Mae calls after me as I step out into the hallway and close the door, my cheeks burning.
Cheerful laughter drifts from the common room.
For the past two weeks, most of the seniors have been meeting there on Saturdays to study for their finals.
I can’t help wondering if I’ll be doing the same in three years.
My stomach tightens. I force myself to put the thought aside, because today isn’t about me. I hurry down the stairs. It’s freezing outside, and the sky is clear. The sun is shining for the first time in weeks, and I can’t help but smile as I feel it on my skin.
Easton and the guys are waiting in the van in the parking lot with the passenger door already open.
Colin, Jax, and Beck have made themselves comfortable in the back seat, and Easton is behind the wheel.
I hesitate briefly before climbing into the front.
The guys are watching me, curious and excited.
But they look a bit too much like they know something I don’t.
“Good morning,” I say, making an effort to sound lighthearted and smile cheerfully.
“Good morning, Sunshine!” I see Beck grinning, and I’d like to smile at him, but unfortunately my gaze catches on Easton.
There’s a slightly insecure expression in his blue eyes, which is all too familiar because it’s the same insecurity I’m feeling, I’m sure of it.
He knows as little as I do about where we stand with each other, and it doesn’t help that we’ve been texting regularly again over the last few days.
Texting and being in the same room with each other are two completely different things.
He smiles crookedly, and my stupid heart beats out of time. “Hey, Birdy.”
It’s not fair how my body reacts to the sound of his voice. I get a warm, tingling sensation and the idiotic urge to return his smile.
I clear my throat. “Are you all ready and well-rested?”
“Sure. We went to bed extra early last night, and Willow made us warm milk with honey,” Colin says so dryly that I wonder for a moment if he’s serious.
“Really?”
“It’s true, she did.” Jax taps Easton’s headrest. “Come on, let’s go or we’ll be late.”
Easton glances at me briefly, his lips part . . . and I want to kiss him. Right here, right now, just like that. It’s not right. I don’t get it. This isn’t what I want. It can’t be. Except . . . it’s exactly what I want. God, I’m so confused!
I quickly turn and stare out the window. “Let’s go.”
Easton doesn’t say a word. I wish he would say something. Anything. But he’s silent. The van’s engine roars to life, and we leave the parking lot.
* * *
The Twenty-Seven Hour Studio is in the West End.
It’s a small studio that’s technically fully booked out for the next few months, but I am who I am, and I wanted We Are No Saints to be able to record our song here.
It’s the studio where Dad recorded his first album twenty years ago, before he and Mom moved to LA.
I didn’t really think about whether it was a good idea to choose this studio, of all places.
I just did it. I still think it was a good idea, but one part of me wishes right now that I had given it at least a moment’s thought.
I didn’t really think it through, and now here I am, with this hole in my chest that feels way too big. Way too empty, way too dark.
I forgot what it was like, to be in a studio. I’ve forgotten how familiar it all feels, even though I’ve never been to this one before. But just like ballet schools all have their similarities, so do recording studios.
This reminds me a bit of Dad’s little studio in our villa in LA. It’s a cozy room with moss-green walls and scruffy sofas and armchairs. It looks more like a living room than a place to work.
The two recording technicians who are with us today are explaining something to the boys, but I can’t listen.
There are too many images in my head. Dad in his studio, a guitar in his hand, big headphones on his ears.
I see him at the piano, his fingers dancing quickly and confidently over the keys.
His voice filling my ears, the room, my heart.
Hearts can break from time to time
Fragile little souls
Getting smaller, seem to hide
The things you used to know
I don’t remember if his voice really sounded like how I imagine it, because it’s been over six months since I last heard him sing live.
Just the thought that I might be remembering it wrong makes everything hurt.
My vision blurs, and I pull my phone out of my pocket and lower my head so no one notices.
I don’t want Easton to see me crying again just because I can’t help it. It would be unfair.
Coming here was a mistake. A really stupid mistake. I see myself in Dad’s studio at home, sitting in one of the armchairs with my legs tucked under me, reading while he records his songs. Me with my notebook and a pen in my hand, words in my head that need to come out. Thoughts, song lyrics, poems.
Dad coming over to me and reading my lyrics, trying to persuade me to find a melody for them, and me saying no, over and over again. No to the melodies, no to singing, no to my lyrics. No, always no. Now I wish I’d said yes just once.
“Hey, Birdy.” Easton’s voice is very close. He sounds worried. “Are you okay?”
I shake my head. Lying is useless. He knows me so well that there’s not even any point in trying. I don’t want to lie to him, anyway. It feels wrong. “No.”
“You’re thinking about your dad.” A statement, not a question.
I nod. “He recorded his first album here,” I explain, my voice sounding hoarse.
“I know,” he says simply. Of course he knows. Why am I even surprised?
“He should be here with you and the band. He would have loved to be here.”
Easton goes silent, knowing that’s not the whole truth.
He knows that I need my dad here. Today.
Always. He strokes my hand, a hesitant, inquiring touch.
I shouldn’t wrap my hand around his; it’s not fair, because I don’t know what I want.
But I need his closeness. His fingers between mine, and the short, encouraging squeeze that reassures me that he’s here.
“You should start,” I finally say, letting him go and wiping the tears off my face. “Have fun.”
For both of us.
Easton hesitates, then nods. But before he goes to his friends, he turns back again and smiles at me. “I’m so happy that you’re here, Rayne.”
My eyes fill with tears again and my heart aches. But I return his smile anyway.
“I am too.”