Chapter 13 Just Listened
Just Listened
Crew
The three of us spent about an hour and a half playing Uno, and I’m quietly enjoying it. None of my enjoyment has anything to do with the people—even though I like spending time with them on occasion—but the fact that we’re playing a game of Uno with classical music in the background.
It was Vinny’s idea to play classical music, claiming that it raises the stakes. I just think it’s hilarious as fuck.
“Uno!” I shout, causing Ali and Vinny to groan.
“Are you kidding me?” Ali complains. “Fourth game and you’re about to win for the third time.”
“Blame his stupid poker face,” Vinny adds. “We can’t figure out what card he’s holding.”
This is also the fourth time he and Ali have teamed up against me. We’re using Carly’s cards to play, even though she’s not here. I felt a little guilty at first because she didn’t permit us, but Ali assured me that she wouldn’t care.
I keep my wild card close to me, and my face as stoic as possible.
Vinny knows this is a losing game at this point, but he still places a blue eight down. Ali follows that up with a red eight, staring at me intently as if she’s trying to read what card I’m holding.
For once, I don’t feel any chills. No nerves or butterflies. Just focused on winning. As the music swells up, I place my wild card on the top of the deck.
“I quit,” Vinny announces, causing Ali to laugh.
Just then, the front door opens and Carly steps inside, partially confused at the setup. “What’s going on?”
Here comes the nerves…
Ali holds up the stack of cards. “Uno.”
Carly nods. “Who’s winning?”
“Crew,” Vinny grumbles, pausing the music. He’s extremely competitive. “I’ve only won one game. Out of four!”
“He shows no mercy,” Ali laughs.
I’m expecting Carly to laugh along, but she’s mostly silent, nodding before heading straight for the kitchen. All three of our heads—mine, Ali, and Vinny—follow her as she reaches inside the fridge, grabs a mango, and heads towards the utensils, where she grabs a knife.
“That’s not a good sign,” Ali whispers. “She won’t do this unless she’s mentally exhausted herself.”
She gets to work scoring the mango before cutting the mango in half. After placing the knife in the sink, she grabs a spoon and makes her way to the couch. Ali and Vinny get back to organizing the cards, while I ignore them and observe Carly.
I have never seen someone eat a mango like that
I’ve also never seen Carly like this. Normally, she’s filled with energy—usually anxious and excited, probably a mix of both—but now, it’s like her sparks died out and she’s barely making it through.
“I think I’ll sit out on this round,” I tell Vinny passively before heading towards the couch, sitting down on the cushion next to Carly.
As she shoves one spoonful of mango after another, I lean closer and ask, “You okay, Firecracker?”
“Just peachy,” she grumbles before taking another spoonful of mango.
“But you’re eating a mango.”
The spoon is halfway to her mouth when she turns, and the harshness on her face begins to disappear. “Did you just make a joke?”
“No,” I answer, pretending to be clueless. “Just stating the obvious.”
“Crew, you’re not that good of an actor.” Another bite. Wow, she is demolishing that mango.
“Because I’m not one anymore.” There’s so much more to it. I’m not the Crew she first heard about in the tabloids, and she knows that. But anytime someone brings it up, this little ball of fury inside me grows.
Kind of like what happened when I last talked to my father, and Carly came to my aid by bringing me somewhere to collect my thoughts and take my mind off it. She must be stewing over what happened at brunch.
Which gives me an idea. It may not work, but I've got to try for her. Because, for some reason, I miss seeing Carly’s smile. Her energy is contagious, no matter how she’s feeling.
“Do you have anything else planned for today?”
Carly’s curious gaze meets my eyes, and she shakes her head. “Why?”
“How do you feel about driving?”
I can’t understand what it is about Carly.
When she’s around, the energy in the room shifts.
From my studies, I know that energy cannot be created or destroyed.
Science has proven that Carly’s positive, sun-like brightness has been converted to dark, depressing matter that needs to be reversed. Immediately.
“But my car,” she groans.
“Then I’ll drive,” I offer, which perks her up instantly.
“Where are we going?” She asks. “And can I bring my mango?”
I nod, chuckling. “It’s a surprise, and yes, you can bring your mango with you while we drive.”
Carly studies my face for a minute, trying to decipher anything that could possibly give away where we’re going. I don’t keep track of how much time passes because I’m just staring blankly.
My face may look neutral, but my brain is working overtime.
“You are so lucky, I enjoy surprises.” After taking one last bite, she grabs a napkin and wipes her lips before standing up. “Let’s go.”
Okay, I’ll admit: my eyes linger on her lips for a little longer than they should have, which is not at all, before clearing my throat as quietly as possible and gesturing to the door. “Right behind you.”
As we make our way to my car, once again, I’m itching to ask what’s wrong.
“Was the brunch that bad?”
She shrugs. “Honestly, it could have been worse. At least she wasn’t insulting my career choice this time.”
Yikes.
“Is it always like that?” We enter the Sedan, and Carly buckles into the passenger’s side.
“Not always,” she responds, rubbing the ring on her finger. “Bailey—my cousin—and I used to be really close. But college happened, she started dating this guy, her attitude…” She trails off, probably not wanting to speak more on it. “It went downhill.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell her, but I’m really itching to say more. That I know how she feels because that’s the same shit I’ve been going through for the past four years, and how she’s braver than I for facing it head-on.
But I don’t say that—instead, I turn the engine on and drive out of my parking spot and away from her apartment, Finneas’ “Someone Else’s Star” starts up.
“You didn’t do anything,” Carly softly says. I take that moment to glance at her closed eyes and her arms crossed over her dress, which she never changed out of. A dress that should be illegal, with how beautiful it makes Carly look.
Sure, I know how pretty Carly is daily—I’d be blind not to notice—but this is on a whole other fucking level.
“All you did was listen.”
I already feel like I committed a crime. I judged her when I first met Carly, and now, as I spend more time with her, I sense how much depth there is to the normally bubbly girl in my car. I assumed the worst because she wanted to pursue a career that I avoid at all costs.
All that prejudice? It ends now. Even if I’m hesitant around someone, it won’t be with Carly Ryder.
Starting now, it’ll be different.
Today? If she needs someone to listen to her, then that’s my job. I’ll listen to whatever she needs to release. Any rant, any complaint.
I’ll listen to it all.