23. June
JUNE
Something’s Coming - West Side Story
I sat on that email for twenty-four hours. My fingers just wouldn’t type “yes!” when everything inside me said no , no , no .
What if missing the gala upsets Shelley and she doesn’t ask me back next year? But if I book this tour, I wouldn’t be free anyway. I’d be traveling the country, never knowing what state I’m in, let alone what day it is.
Or, I could take the AD job Nat offered. It’d be easier to see Nick, and I’d get good experience. But it won’t get me any closer to my Broadway dream.
Maybe my mom’s right, and I should let those dreams go.
In the end, the burning in my chest when I imagine putting my lifelong dream to rest is what decides me. I can’t give up, not yet.
So, I told Helen I’d be there.
I’ve spent the rest of the week trying to find a way to tell Nick I’m missing the gala.
But we’re still taking things day by day.
Leave the future to the future, that’s what I keep telling myself.
But it doesn’t stick. Every time I look at Nick, I already miss him, even though he’s right in front of me.
On Friday, we sit at the bell tower before lunch, and I commit the moment to my memory. I inhale deeply, savoring the summer-sweet air. I close my eyes against the sun’s rays, warm on my skin. And I smile at the lightness in my heart.
My heart’s lighter because it’s not beating in my chest anymore.
It’s in Nick’s hands.
One of said hands drapes around the nape of my neck, possessive and protective, as he gently kneads the tight muscles there while I lean against his shoulder.
I slept on it wrong last night and can’t turn all the way to the left.
I’m clinging onto these last weeks of my twenties for dear life, but my body hasn’t gotten the memo.
We don’t talk, content to people-watch. Chessie finds us and sits on the step below me at the bell tower, leaning back on her elbows. Ethan joins our little group, hands in his pockets as one foot lands a few stairs above the other in a casual lunge. Hannah comes next, dropping next to me.
When Nat rounds the corner to the courtyard after she’s done teaching her class, her eyes light up when they land on Chessie.
She sits with her wife, and Ethan asks, “Okay party people, what’s the plan for after the concert tonight?
” He cuts his eyes to us. “Not you two, obviously. You’ve got cute couply shit going on. ”
Is it weird that I’m excited for dinner with Don and Shelley? After our night together, I could never say no to Nick. Not when he’s so kind, so hopeful about his relationship with his dad.
Speaking of parents, I grab my phone from my back pocket, checking the time.
Mom and Willow are on their way to pick me up for lunch, this time at Ambrosia. Hopefully, eating in public will prevent another interrogation.
“I could grab a drink,” Hannah muses.
I can’t help smiling as I turn to my friend. With Shaw gone, she’s lighter, happier, just more . It looks good on her.
Nick straightens next to me, pressing a kiss to my temple as he says, “I spot Mei Lin, I’ve got sheet music to hand her.” And he grabs his messenger bag, striding away.
Nat and Ethan chat about which bar he wants to hit up, which devolves into an argument over places with cheaper beer specials. Ethan wants to go to a bar by Sadler U, while Nat prefers Shaker’s, saying, “No shit it’s a dive bar, but it’s a dive bar with fewer twenty-one-year-old kids.”
“So you’d rather drink with surly forty-something bikers?” Ethan asks.
“The clientele is half a dive bar’s appeal. Cheap alcohol is the other half,” Nat bites back.
Hannah, bless her, tries to redirect. “Shaker’s is fine, but maybe we could go to a bar with a dance floor?”
Chessie scoots up a step, leaning in conspiratorially to whisper, “Twenty bucks says Ethan wants to go to this college bar to find a hookup.”
“Oh. That sounds … fun,” I answer.
Dmitry walks by and Ethan jogs over, calling, “Hey, man, what’re you up to tonight?”
Hannah freezes beside me.
“Everything okay?” I knock my knee into hers.
“What? Yeah. Actually, going out isn’t such a good idea.”
“Is this because of Ethan and Nat bickering?” Chessie asks.
“Not at all. I’ll be really tired tonight, though. I don’t want to commit and back out later.” She stands with her usual fluid grace, but her shoulders are stiff and nearly up to her ears. “I’m grabbing lunch.”
And with that, she heads for the dining hall. Dmitry watches her go before turning back to Ethan, who’s still talking. Ethan’s jittery, a little manic, so I say, “Maybe Ethan’s picking a fight because he’s looking for what you and Nat have.”
“At a college bar? Bitch, please. He wants a hook-up,” Chessie says. “It’s less about me and Nat and more about you and Nick.”
I wrinkle my nose. “How so?”
“Because last summer, he guilted Nick into bar hopping with him every weekend,” Nat chimes in.
“But now that you’re in the picture?” Chessie’s eyebrows shoot up.
“Shit. Am I breaking up the boy band?” A thin thread of remorse stitches itself into my side.
“Fuck, no, I didn’t mean it like that. Ethan’s pretending we’re not all settling down.” Chessie waves a hand airily, as if she didn’t just say two words that sink in my stomach. Settling down .
She didn’t mean anything by it, but still, it cuts through me. I’m not the girl you settle down with. “Nick and I are having fun. I don’t fault Ethan for wanting the same thing.”
“But it's not like Ethan didn’t see this coming,” Nat adds.
Chessie sucks in an inhale, then rubs her lips together.
“What does that mean?” I’m both tingling and numb, burrowed so deep inside myself that I’m actually disconnecting. It’s a strange contradiction, but there’s something I can’t quite grasp.
“Yeah, you know,” Nat continues, oblivious to the shift inside me, “because of the crush thing.”
“The crush thing.” My voice is toneless.
That gets Nat’s attention. She studies me, mouth pulling into a grimace. “The crush he had on you back in high school,” she supplies so, so helpfully.
“Shit, he didn’t tell you, did he?” Chessie asks.
And Ethan knows about it, too. Everyone but me, I guess. No wonder they assume Nick and I will “settle down.” My stomach cramps painfully. I probably need to eat lunch.
“Um, no, yeah. We—he told me.” My stomach feels even worse after the lie. But I can’t tell the truth. Nick and I haven’t been dating for months like we said at Shaker’s; it’s been three weeks, and two of those weren’t even real .
Nat and Chessie share one of those couple-looks. The one where they’ve been together long enough that they communicate in glances and touches. The ache inside me widens.
Nat’s phone chooses that moment to vibrate with a call. She studies the screen, murmuring, “Why’s my brother calling?” Then answers, standing and taking the call further up the path.
“Are Nat and her brother close?” I ask.
“Not really. Nick didn’t tell you about his crush, did he?” Chessie asks.
Cool, so we’re not changing the subject.
Lying was hard enough the first time, I can’t do it again. “No, but it’s fine.”
“It’s not, I feel like shit. I’m really sorry, June. Are you mad?”
I bite my lip, then blow out a breath. “No. I don’t know. I’m not sure how I feel.”
Closing my eyes, I do my best to take a centering breath.
It’s not anger, hot and coursing through my veins.
It’s cold dread, icing over everything inside me until I’m paralyzed.
A high school crush doesn’t mean much, we were kids.
But Chessie and Nat assume Nick and I will settle down , which means not only did he tell them that he liked me way back when, but he assumes we’ll settle down together, too.
Tears sting my eyes, but I blink them away. I want that . It steals my breath how much I want that. But I don’t get to settle down, not in my profession.
I’m not the ingenue anymore, the heroine, the one who gets a happy ending.
I’m old enough to understand that happy endings can be more than picket fences and kids and soccer practice and PTA meetings. But I’m also old enough to know that not everyone agrees with what my happy ending looks like—late-night rehearsals, even later drag shows, too many mimosas at brunch.
“We figured he’d told you by now.” Chessie’s tone is apologetic, and that snaps me out of my pity party.
I lay a hand on her forearm, saying, “It’s fine, please don’t be sorry. High school was forever ago.”
She opens her mouth to say more, but closes it when Nat walks back, tears streaming and panic tightening her eyes.
Chelsea runs to her and wraps her in a hug. “What happened?”
“Mom. Car accident.” Her voice is so small, so scared.
“Is she …” Her wife trails off.
She didn’t say the word, but it lingers in the air.
“She’s alive. For now.” Nat chokes on a sob. “I have to go down there.”
“Not by yourself,” Chessie replied. “I’m not letting you fly all the way to Florida like this.”
Nat gripped her wife’s upper arms. “You can’t, the musical.”
I very much do not want to be included in this private moment, especially when both women turn their heads in my direction. Chessie gestures to me. “Nick and June!”
Oh, shit . “Umm.”
Nick jogs over to me, worry creasing his brow. “What happened?”
I fill him in on what little I know while Nat and Chessie argue in hushed tones.
“We have to help them,” he says to me, then turns to our friends. “We’re in, whatever you need.”
Chessie’s whisper to Nat cuts off, and she surveys us. “You’ll run rehearsals until we’re back?”
“Of course,” Nick answers.
“Yeah.” My voice is tight. I’d love to go from teaching a singular class to full-on directing a musical of forty high schoolers. I clear my throat, forcing determination into my words. “Absolutely. Yes.”
Chessie goes into triage mode, pacing and typing on her phone.
“I’m booking us a flight. We’ll head to the apartment and pack.
” She stops in her tracks, her gaze turning to us.
“I promise to be back for sitzprobe. Not to be an ass, but you’re sure you can handle directing, June?
I know Nick has music directed at his high school before, but this is a lot on your shoulders. ”
I blow out a shaky breath. “As long as you leave me the show bible.”
Nat’s always consulting a comically massive black binder at rehearsals that’s filled with the music score and all the lines, including her director’s blocking and notes, and hopefully, all the lighting cues should be in there, too.
Every director has one, and it’s vital to every show; that’s why it’s called the bible.
“Of course. I’ll drop it off at Zimmerman today. Shit, rehearsal’s in three hours, that’s not enough time to—” Nat rubs her hands over her face, shoulders shaking.
Chessie pulls her into another hug, running her hand up and down her back. “Please, babe, you have enough to worry about.”
“We’ll be fine,” Nick asserts. “Even if all we do is run lines today, it’s something. We’ll dive into the rest of your blocking tomorrow. You should get going.”
Chessie steers Nat with a hand on her shoulder toward their apartment on campus. Nick and I stare at each other, but my gaze is far away. I’m not really seeing him; I’m seeing all this work for the next two weeks. The last two weeks Nick and I have left together before I leave.
It’s selfish. Nat’s mom … she might not make it. And I’m frustrated that I can't spend time with my boyfriend. What kind of asshole thinks that?
The me kind of asshole, apparently.
Willow chooses that moment to saunter over with Mom, hands in the pockets of her black jeans. “Hey, Junie.”
“Hey.” I don’t bother pretending like everything’s okay.
And maybe that’s selfish, too, because my mom immediately activates mom mode. She hugs me, patting my hair. “What happened?”
Nick shifts on his feet. “Our director’s mother was in a car accident. It’s … not good. She’s flying home to be with her and asked June and I to direct Les Mis .”
“Holy crap,” Wils mutters, eyes widening as they find mine.
I nod to her, biting the inside of my cheek. “Sorry, but I have to raincheck on lunch.”
“Is there anything your father or I can do? To make things easier?” Mom asks.
“I don’t know. We literally just found out.
Let me run through rehearsals a few times and if I think of anything, I’ll let you know.
” I’m turning thirty, I shouldn’t need an adultier adult to swoop in and save the day, but I’m so grateful for my mom right now.
“Hey, you and Dad should come to dinner tonight with Nick’s dad and Shelley. ”
Her eyes light up, though they’re too knowing for my taste. “We’d love to.”
My gaze shifts to Nick. Is it okay that I invited them?
His expression softens, and my insides melt.
Only for a moment, though, before I remember the crush thing .
This dinner with his dad is as much about their relationship as it is about mine and Nick’s.
But inviting my parents? What if he sees it as a sign that I want to settle down ? Ugh, those words make me want to barf.
I can’t lead Nick on. Not because I don’t care for him, it’s the opposite. I care so much that my heart will shatter when Nick realizes we want fundamentally different things.
Like the audition I haven’t even told him about yet.
Nick smiles at my mom, and he’s so charming, because of course he is. “See you tonight, Mrs. Danielowicz.”
“Please.” Her smile grows impossibly wider. “Call me Mickie.”
I put my hand on Willow’s shoulder and push. “Get going. We’ve got work to do, and I’d like to have my anxiety attack in private, thank you.”
“You mean I don’t get to record you having a public crash out?” Wils brushes away my hand, then turns and squeezes me in a hug. It’s quick—she’s not big on affection—but it’s tight. “Hey, you’ll do great. If you need to vent or whatever, there’s a box of wine at my apartment with your name on it.”
“Thanks.” My previous tears are back, stinging my nose something fierce this time. “I’ll text you.”
Once they leave, Nick grabs my hand. “We need to talk to Shelley, and there’s a lot to get through before dinner tonight. I’m—” He sighs, bringing our linked hands to his lips, and kissing my knuckles. “I’m glad you don’t want to cancel.”
His warm lips and hot breath send electric sparks up my arms, and other more publicly inappropriate places. “It’s important to you. So it’s important to me.”
He looks at his feet, his smile crooked and so sweet that I ache. But I’ve got to be a big girl. I can’t let this whirlpool of feelings drown me. So I’ll focus on Les Mis and this dinner with Nick’s dad. We’ll talk about his past crush and my audition later. That’s the adultier adult thing to do.
Right?