“We should talk later,” he said. “Somewhere quiet.”
“Here you go,” a hand holding a glass of soda rudely pushed its way between us. I took the drink from Adam and took a step back from Ryan.
I had a completely irrational feeling of guilt, as though Adam really was my boyfriend and I’d been caught getting too close with my ex. This little pretend relationship was messing with my head, I decided.
“You’re welcome,” Adam said once Ryan walked away to say hi to some newcomers he recognized.
“For what?” I asked. I knew he wasn’t referring to the soda.
“For interrupting…this,” he said with a little wave of his hands towards the spot where Ryan and I had stood talking.
“You didn’t interrupt anything,” I said defensively.
“Whatever you say. Look out, he’s coming back.” And with that, Adam pulled me close up against him and continued the conversation as he nuzzled my neck.
“Is he watching?”
I turned my head slightly and had to look away quickly as my eyes connected with Ryan’s. “Yeah,” I said. “He’s staring at us.”
“Good.” He took one of my hands in his and pressed it to his chest and began to rock gently to the music. I felt myself melting against him, taking comfort in the safe, comfortable feeling of having Adam’s arms around me.
“Now let’s get something straight,” Adam said. “I pretended to be your boyfriend so that jerk wouldn’t have the satisfaction of knowing that you haven’t gotten over him…”
“I have too gotten over him,” I interjected. But Adam wasn’t listening.
“I’m all for making the guy jealous but I’m not here to help you two get back together again.”
I pulled back, hurt by the anger in his voice.
“I don’t want to get back together with him,” I said.
We were silent for a bit but we still danced together, looking for all the world like a happy couple. Adam broke the silence first. “Sorry,” he said. “I just really don’t want to see him walk all over you again. I hate seeing what he does to you.”
I wanted to argue but I couldn’t. Adam had been forced to deal with the aftermath of Ryan…why should I expect him to be supportive of a round two? Not that that was what I wanted anyways.
“It’s okay,” I said. “I get it. But I just want you to know that I don’t want Ryan back. I swear.”
He drew back so he could look into my eyes. “Really?”
“Really.” A small smile played across my lips. “I’m all for making him insane with jealousy though.”
Adam laughed. “He’s well on his way. Take my word for it.”
Luckily the show started before we had to make too much small talk. The show itself was all right. I was objective enough to know that the music was only so-so. Not nearly as good as the old band. Ryan was the sort of singer whose whole performance relied on his charismatic magnetism. If the same voice had come from someone less mysterious, less dangerous, and less attractive…there was no way they would have packed a club, let alone booked a tour.
Adam and I spent most of the show sending texts back and forth making fun of the cheesy lyrics. Ryan had always had a tendency towards melodramatic teen angst.
Mark watched with polite interest but it was hard to tell what he was thinking. Between Adam, Victoria, and I, we were sure to get it out of him eventually.
Lindsay was sitting with friends right next to the stage, looking the very picture of a lead singer’s girlfriend. The music got slower and I heard the opening chords to a song I knew very, very well. It was a song I knew by heart, in fact.
“I’d like to dedicate this next song to a very special girl in the audience tonight,” he said.
This could not be happening.
As Ryan started to sing the opening lyrics to the song he’d written for me I heard “awww” coming from Lindsay’s table and looked over to see her basking in a glow of adoration.
She thought he was singing this song for her, I realized. He never used my name in the lyrics, just ‘baby.’
And then it hit me, maybe he was singing this song for her.
His eyes were closed as though he was so caught up in emotions that he couldn’t face the audience. Maybe he just couldn’t face me.
I could not believe he was singing my song to Lindsay.
What kind of musician reuses the same song for two different women? I mean, aside from Elton John? Nobody. Only a complete cretin.
I didn’t know whether to scream in rage, cry in misery, or laugh at the absurdity of it all.
What escaped my lips was a weird combination of all three—like a mewling kitten choking on a hairball.
Adam heard and gave me a questioning look.
“That’s my song,” I texted him.
Adam’s eyes widened. Of course he’d heard all about the song, the one that had made me weak in the knees every time I heard it. Right now it seemed to be having the opposite effect. Hearing him sing it for another girl made me feel like my heart was made of stone.
“You okay?” he mouthed.
I nodded but he didn’t look convinced. And rightly so. I wasn’t sure what I was feeling. Shock? Rage? Sadness? They were all there and they were battling for supremacy.
Adam’s chair slid closer and I felt his arm around my shoulders. I let myself snuggle up against his side and focused my attention on the hypnotic feel of his hand stroking my arm and shoulder.
The song finally came to an end and loud club music filled the air as the band took a break. I looked over at Adam and saw that his jaw was clenched tight and he was thrumming his fingers on the table in impatience. I leaned over to be heard over the music.
“You okay?” I asked.
He glanced over and for one, chilling second the fury in his eyes was concentrated on me.
“What?” he shouted.
I leaned in so my lips were right next to his ear. “What’s wrong?”
He shook his head and continued to glare at the stage. I didn’t think he was going to answer but then he leaned over so I could hear him. His warm breath on the side of my neck gave me chills. “I can’t believe the nerve of that guy.”
“Ryan?” I asked.
Adam just looked at me. Of course he was talking about Ryan.
“I can’t believe he had the nerve to hit on you right in front of me like that.”
“The song you mean?” I asked.
“Of course, the song. How dare he hit on you right in front of your boyfriend.” He looked so angry I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.
“You do realize that you’re not actually my boyfriend, right?”
Adam rolled his eyes. “Of course I’m not,” he said with such vehemence that it was hard not to be offended. “But he doesn’t know that!”
“You’re right,” I said. “It was a jerky move.”
That seemed to appease Adam a bit.
“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think he was singing it to me,” I said.
I gestured toward the bar where we could see Lindsay cuddled up against Ryan’s side, happy as a clam.
Adam looked at me in disbelief. “He wouldn’t.”
“He just did,” I said.
For a moment there I thought Adam was going to throw a fit—or a fist—he looked that furious.
It felt kind of nice to have someone one my side, I have to admit. Just knowing that there was someone in that room who realized how incredibly hurtful Ryan had been made it all a little easier to bear.
I did a pretty decent job of disguising my emotions after the show but anger had beaten out every other emotion by a landslide and I was so angry I could barely see straight.
How dare he sing my song to her? And how dare he do it in front of me?
But in front of Lindsay and the others I was all smiles. Know why? Because after so many months of wallowing in hurt and longing, anger felt good.
No, it felt great.
I was
strong and powerful and in control. I felt like myself.
So I could smile and laugh at Adam’s jokes and listen to Ryan’s stories about life on tour with a pleasant, unaffected look on my face—for a while at least.
I can’t say my face didn’t hurt with all that fake pleasantry by the end of the night, but I pulled it off.
If I thought I was good at hiding my anger, Adam was freakin’ amazing. He went right up to Ryan after the show and slapped him on the back.
“Great job, man, you guys were fantastic.”
All the while he had one arm firmly wrapped around my waist. I’d never seen Adam act jealous or possessive before and while I normally don’t condone that kind of behavior, I have to admit it was actually kind of sweet.
Even if it was based on lies.
“Wasn’t he amazing?” Lindsay gushed.
She wasn’t looking at me and I realized that at this moment at least, Lindsay wasn’t acting like she liked Ryan for my benefit.
Maybe it had started off as a way for her to get back at me, or maybe it hadn’t—maybe I was just being self absorbed thinking that everything Lindsay did was to spite me.
Either way, it was abundantly clear watching her brag about her new boyfriend and seeing the way she gazed up at him adoringly when he whispered in her ear that she really did have feelings for him.
I swallowed down the bitter taste of jealousy mixed with rage and tried to be happy for Lindsay. And for Ryan.
Oh, who was I kidding, even Oprah wasn’t that selfless.
Ryan’s bandmates tried to convince everyone to go out to a bar but Adam and I declined. Not only were we underage and lacking in fake IDs, but we also just didn’t care for that scene. Besides, I think we were both just about ready to get far, far away from Ryan.
While we were making our escape, Lindsay made one last attempt to get everyone to go out with them.
“Come on you guys, it’s Senior Week. You can’t go home and go to bed,” she wailed.
Adam laughed, “Who said we were going to bed? We’ll be hanging out at the house. You guys should stop by when you’re done at the bar.”
Of course, none of us actually expected them to take Adam up on his invitation.
My friends started to head to the door but I pulled Adam in close so he could hear me over the music.
“I’m gonna run to the bathroom, I’ll meet you guys outside,” I shouted.
He nodded and I headed down a dimly lit hallway toward the restrooms. I was headed back down that dark hallway, the exit in sight, when I ran smack into Ryan.
Chapter Sixteen
“Hey you,” he said.
“Hey.”
I knew my lips were compressed into a thin line and my eyes were cold as ice. There was no power on earth great enough to hide my anger now. Not when I was standing here alone with Ryan, spitting distance from where he’d betrayed me.
Boyfriend or not, that was my song and there was no excuse for what he’d done.
His grin was mocking. “What’s up? You look pissed.”
He sidled up next to me, leaning against the flyer-covered wall and effectively blocking my exit.
I shrugged. “I’m fine,” I lied.
He surprised me by reaching out a hand and brushing a curl from my face. “Come on, kitten, you can tell me what’s wrong.”
I stared at him in defiant silence. I wasn’t going to say it, I promised myself. I would not let him know how much that song had hurt me. How much it had gotten to me.
“Did you and Adam have a fight?” he asked.
Silence.
He sighed, like he was dealing with a stubborn child.
“I knew I shouldn’t have played that song,” he said.
My jaw dropped in shocked outrage. He didn’t sound regretful. Not one bit. He sounded amused. Amused. Like this was a joke. Like the fact that he’d sung my song to another girl—no, not just another girl, to Lindsay—was no big deal. Like I was blowing things out of proportion.
I was about to let him have it—no Oprah mantras were going to stop me now—
But then he spoke again.
“I guess I would be pissed too if some guy sang a love song to my girlfriend right in front of me,” he said.
It took me a moment to figure out what he was saying.
“The song—the song was for me?” I asked. The anger drained a bit, replaced by sheer confusion. And then I felt an overwhelming sense of relief.
Okay, I was happy. It had been for me. He hadn’t sung it Lindsay, it had been for me!
I flashed on the look on Lindsay’s face as she watched him sing the song, convinced he’d written it for her, and I actually felt sorry for her for a moment.
But then Ryan began to talk again and Lindsay was forgotten.
Ryan put a hand over his heart and looked up at me from with a sweet, boyish expression. “I didn’t mean to cause problems between you two, I swear,” he said.
I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. I would have killed for the right response—something worldly or witty.
All I came up with was, “It’s cool.”
I gave a little shrug and tossed my head to the side, trying to match his nonchalance.
“Don’t get me wrong, Adam’s a nice guy and all but…” he trailed off and gave me a knowing look. “Well, you know.”
I did? What did I know?
I didn’t want to let on that I did not, in fact, know what we he meant so I just nodded.
“Sure,” I said.
“I mean, the two of us have history, he’s gotta understand that,” Ryan continued. “But still…”
His tone was mocking and I had the distinctly uncomfortable feeling that he was making fun of Adam in some way.
“Adam wasn’t pissed,” I said. “He was cool with it.”
Ryan just raised a dubious eyebrow and I felt a telltale blush creeping into my cheeks.
“Kitten, I want you to know that I get it,” Ryan said.
He was gazing into my eyes with the kind of unabashed, heartfelt emotions I’d been dreaming of seeing for months—ever since he’d left.
“You get it?” I repeated.
He nodded solemnly and reached out to entwine his fingers with my own.
I felt like I was dreaming. I had envisioned this for so long and now it was happening and I felt like I couldn’t take it in.
“I didn’t expect you to wait around for me. I know Adam has been after you for ages and I totally get why you’d want to get back at me.”
“Umm...” My mind was a blank.
Ryan had concocted his own idea of what had happened between Adam and I—and it wasn’t all that far from the truth. I mean, minus the whole ‘Adam being after me’ part, obviously.
But he did know that I was only with Adam to get back at him.
“I missed you babe,” he said.
My heart nearly broke. I’d been waiting to hear those words for so long.
“You did?” I said.
My voice sounded hoarse from shouting over the music all night and for a moment I thought he hadn’t heard me.
He tugged on my hand and pulled me in even closer so our bodies were inches apart and he leaned over so he was talking into my ear. If I turned my head even the slightest bit our lips would have touched.
“Didn’t you miss me too?” he asked.
I nodded without thinking. My mind was too busy realizing one thing and that one thing was all I could think about.
He wants me back. He wants me back, he wants me back, he wants me back.
He pulled back to smile down at me, a knowing, intimate smile that made me feel like no time had passed.
With one smile the past six months had been erased, just like that.
He leaned in closer and I knew he was going to kiss me. And I knew I wasn’t going to stop it. Because this was the moment I’d been dreaming of for so long. He had finally come around. He wanted me and that was what I’d wanted ever since he left.
; “Hey Ryan, give me a hand with this equipment!”
Kevin Canarsie’s voice behind me made me jump back in surprise.
The moment was over. Ryan gave me a wink, squeezed my hand and walked off to help his bandmate load up the van.
He didn’t even glance back. If I hadn’t lived it myself, I could almost have believed it hadn’t happened.
I walked outside in a daze and found Adam, Mark, and Victoria laughing hysterically over some joke I’d missed.
“Hey, there you are!” Adam said, slinging an arm around my shoulder. “What took you so long?”
I was saved from answering as the three of them continued the conversation I’d missed—something about the unique (and apparently, not terribly attractive) way the band’s drummer kept time.
I was happy they were distracted. That meant I was able to walk along quietly and absorb what had just happened.
It’s hard to explain how I felt walking away from the club that night.
It was kind of how I felt every New Years at midnight. There’s this whole countdown till that moment, so much hype and hooplah, and then when it comes—it never, ever lives up to the expectation.
It can’t because the hype is what it’s all about. I mean, no one goes to New Year’s party for the cheers at midnight—they go for the countdown. It’s that countdown and the feeling of solidarity—with the people you’re celebrating with and with the revelers who are shivering in Times Square—that’s what makes New Year’s Eve so special.
I can lift a glass of champagne and kiss the person standing next to me any night of the year. So every year when the clock strikes midnight I inevitably feel a little said, a little let down.
And that’s how I felt walking home that night.
I’d been dreaming of Ryan’s return. I can’t tell you how many different scenarios I’d envisioned in which he told he how wrong he’d been to leave and begged me to take him back.
And tonight was as close as it was going to get—his telling me he missed me and leaning in for a kiss—that was it. That was my big dream sequence come to life.
And it really was a letdown.
I was no happier and no more satisfied than when we’d walked here several hours before.
Senior Week Fling Page 10
