by K. A. Linde
“Hey, this is Aribel. Leave a message after the tone.”
“Ari, answer your phone. We need to talk. Call me back.”
I hung up, feeling like a complete fucking idiot. Who was I to chase after a girl like this? My whole fucking life, chicks had pursued me. Now, I was turning into a goddamn lunatic at the thought of Ari being with someone else. I’d do anything to make this right.
Maybe she was already in the lobby. Maybe she’d gotten my message, and she was coming down to see me. I pushed past the doorman in a hurry.
My eyes scanned the small lobby in earnest. An older couple was sitting on a sofa. Otherwise, the place was empty.
No Ari.
No Henry.
Nothing.
I stormed over to the front desk and tried to put a smile on for the female desk clerk. I could be charming even with this fucking thundercloud over my head. I could get what I wanted. She would tell me how to find my fucking girlfriend.
“Hey,” I said.
The woman glanced up at me and then back down at her computer screen, unimpressed.
Right. Classy-ass joint. I’d need a bit more of my usual swagger than what I was mustering up at the moment.
“Hello, sir. How can I help you?”
“Hi, Rachel,” I said, reading the gold name tag on her chest. I ignored the small amount of cleavage peeking out of her top and directed my gaze into her almost black eyes. “I’m trying to locate someone who is staying here.”
She gave me a look that told me to explain, so I jumped right in.
“I’m trying to find Aribel Graham’s room. She told me she was staying here, and I’m supposed to meet her, but she didn’t tell me what number she was in.”
Rachel’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I’m sorry. I can’t help you with that. We keep all our customers’ information private.”
I laughed confidently and leaned against the desk. “I get it. I totally hate asking, but I think her phone is dead. I just got into the city. See, I’m on tour with The Drift and wanted to see my girl when I was finished.”
“The band, The Drift?”
“That’s the one,” I lied.
She seemed to look at me a tad more appreciatively, but I still hadn’t moved her. “I really wish I could help, but if she didn’t give you that information, I absolutely cannot provide it.”
“All right. I don’t want you breaking any rules.” I shot a smile that said I’d love for her to do nothing more. “But can you call up to her room and let her know I’m down here?”
“I would if I could, but I can’t,” she said diplomatically. “No outside contact with customers. You have to understand.”
She cast her eyes back to the computer monitor. It was a dismissal. I couldn’t fucking be dismissed.
“Please,” I begged.
I was fucking begging. Shoot me now.
“Please, I need to see her.”
Her eyes softened for a second, and then she shook her head. “Don’t ask again. It’s against company policy. I’d lose my job.”
I nodded numbly. I understood. I didn’t want to get the poor girl fired. I just wanted to see my girlfriend. I wanted to make her understand.
Why was that so difficult? She could walk down from her room, and we’d talk like normal people instead of the insane people who took up residence inside of our heads when we argued.
I loved Ari. That was really fucking obvious. But I couldn’t keep letting our alter egos take over during our conversations. I needed to remain calm.
I needed a fucking joint, but I wouldn’t go get one.
No, I’d sit right here on the fucking couch near the old couple and watch the elevator doors. Even if Ari never came down, Henry would have to at some point. I just had to keep fucking telling myself that.
She’d never do anything with that motherfucker. She would never let him stay. She was smarter than that.
I sat down and stared. Every time the elevator doors dinged open, I’d jump up from my spot and wait for him to exit. Anticipation settled in my stomach as I imagined all the horrible things I’d do to him when I saw him, and then I’d make him tell me which room Ari was in. Intermittently, I’d call her cell phone, but after the third time of no answer, I stopped trying.
My best bet was to wait. I ignored Miller’s curious and worried text messages asking me where I was and wondering if I was going to go back to Princeton tonight.
I told myself Henry would come downstairs. I told myself that same fucking phrase so often that I almost believed it.
But after four solid hours of nothing, I realized the truth. Henry wasn’t leaving. Ari wasn’t coming downstairs.
And I was a motherfucking idiot for hoping…for trying.
Rachel gave me a sad look and a farewell wave as I stood, but she had never changed her stance. I left The Kimberly Hotel, feeling like a steamroller had flattened me. The doorman was still there. He asked me how my hand was, but I waved him off with it. Who cared how my hand was when the rest of me had been blown to smithereens?
When I never returned to Beacon Theatre, Miller had texted me the address to the hotel the band had gotten for the night. It was surprisingly easy to get to, and since Miller had left my name at the front, it was even easier to get a key from the woman at the desk. As I plucked the card out of her hand, I felt utter disdain for the bitch who had refused to let me up to see Ari.
Sliding the card into the slot, I pushed open the door and found Vin and McAvoy passed out and snoring. Miller looked exhausted, but it was clear that he had been waiting for me.
“What happened, bro? You look like shit,” Miller said.
“I feel like shit.”
I ran a shaky hand back through my hair. Maybe I was in fucking shock.
“You and Ari okay?”
“I never fucking saw her.”
Miller’s eyebrows shot up. “You’ve been there the whole time and didn’t even talk to her? I thought you guys were arguing or some shit.”
“No. I couldn’t get up to her, and she didn’t answer her phone. She left with Henry, he went up with her, and he never left. In four hours, he never left. So, the fucker is staying the night…with my girl.”
“Nothing happened.”
“How the fuck do you know?” I asked, kicking off my shoes and wishing for something to take the edge off.
“Because she loves you.”
“Yeah. You feel that way about Sydney, and you’re fucking around on her.”
Miller glared at me. “Don’t fucking bring Sydney into this situation. You know she doesn’t want anything serious, and Ari does. Completely different people.”
“Fine,” I grumbled. I was too mentally and emotionally exhausted to argue. My heart was shredded. I just wanted everything to go back to the way it was before.
“Talk to her when you get home. Things will be fine.”
“She’s not going to be able to handle the road, bro. She doesn’t even like the League, and you and I both know the scene on the road is going to be so much fucking worse than that.”
“You don’t know what she can and can’t handle. Maybe she can’t,” he said quickly when I glared at him. “But…maybe she can. Give her a fucking chance. She won’t need to worry about life on tour if you can show her there’s no reason to worry.”
“Yeah, man, and how the fuck do I do that?”
He shrugged. “You’ll figure it out.”
I clenched my fists, and pain rushed through me again. “If she fucked that other dude, I’ll fucking murder him.”
“Ari isn’t fucking anyone but you. As soon as you realize that, you’ll be fucking solid, man.”
Miller turned over and closed his eyes. He was out like a light, leaving me all alone to think about what he had said.
I just needed to trust Ari, yet all I could see was the anger in her eyes and the blinding madness she drove me to. How could we make something like that work?
How had everything spiraled so far out o
f control?
One minute, Grant and I would be happy. The next, we would be arguing. We’d talk and figure things out, and it’d seem that everything was all right again between us. Then, everything would fall apart.
How could loving someone hurt this bad?
All I wanted to do was make things right, but I wouldn’t make the first move. I couldn’t swallow my pride and go to him. He was the one who was in the wrong. Nothing was happening between Henry and me, and I certainly wasn’t stalking Grant to find out about what had happened with Pacific.
He didn’t trust me. He didn’t trust that we could get through this together. It was a blow, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt.
It hurt like a bitch.
The next morning, while I was on my way to have breakfast with my father, I saw the missed calls from Grant, but I couldn’t bring myself to return the messages. I had told him to come talk to me when he figured out his problem, but I wasn’t ready to talk to him. I was still mad. I needed more time to cool off, or we would keep repeating the same disastrous mistakes over and over again.
I knew he would call me again when he was ready.
Except he didn’t.
Not that day or the next or the next.
I hadn’t heard one word from Grant in three whole days.
When I woke up the next morning, the day of my birthday, I was struck with all this hope that things would be different today. Grant would show up at my apartment and wish me a happy birthday. We’d fall into bed together, the memories of our argument drifting from our minds with the feel of our bodies pressed together. I’d cry out his name, feel release wash over me, and know I hadn’t made a horrible mistake in walking out of the theater and refusing to return his calls the next day.
But there was no Grant waiting for me when I woke up, not even a call. There was just my unfinished O-chem assignment on the kitchen table and a package from the girls, wrapped in little kids birthday paper.
My hope winked out like a flame deprived of oxygen.
“Happy birthday!” Cheyenne cried.
She walked into the dining room carrying a stack of pancakes with a candle lit in the middle. Shelby and Gabi followed behind her. They all started up with a chorus of, “Happy Birthday,” and I just stoically stared at them. I wasn’t really in the mood to celebrate.
Cheyenne unceremoniously plopped the plate down in front of me.
“I know it’s not a cake, but we know you love blueberry pancakes!” Gabi said.
“It’s great. Thanks, guys,” I responded automatically.
“Make a wish!” Shelby crooned.
I wasn’t much in a wishing mood. The other wishes I had made weren’t coming true, but I couldn’t deny my friends this after they had gone through all the trouble.
I leaned forward and closed my eyes. I wish for everything with Grant to be all right.
It felt dumb wishing for something I could fix by picking up the phone and giving into my stubbornness. But I didn’t feel in the wrong here. So, I blew out the candle and hoped wishes came true.
The girls had splurged on a new outfit for me. It was nothing like anything I owned, and I assumed it was Cheyenne’s influence, but they all looked so happy I couldn’t even muster up the sarcasm to ask.
“Where am I going to wear this?” I asked, holding up the sparkly sequined backless dress that secured around my neck. They’d paired it with shiny gold hoop earrings, heeled booties, and a matching hair clip.
“Tonight of course!” Cheyenne said. “We’re taking you out for a drink!”
“Oh no,” I said. I pushed the dress back into the box and then held my hands up. “I don’t want my birthday to be a big deal. I have to finish my homework and go to class, and then I’d rather stay in, eat ice cream, and watch Netflix.”
“No way!” Shelby cried.
“Not in the plan,” Gabi agreed.
“Please, please, please, guys! I don’t want to do this. Maybe this weekend?”
“Don’t think for a second we believe you when you say this weekend. We’ve lived with you for over a year,” Cheyenne said, sinking into her hip and giving me a dirty look. “If we don’t get you out tonight, you’ll never go out with us.”
I groaned. Why did my birthday have to fall on this week? All I wanted to do was crawl into bed and forget about what had happened with Grant.
“You better be ready to go by seven tonight, or I’m going to get a free-for-all with your hair and makeup.”
Cheyenne was teasing, but I wouldn’t put it past her to doll me up to an unrecognizable state. The girl could work makeup like no one else I’d ever known. I knew enough to brush a mascara wand over my lashes, dab some blush on my cheeks, and apply a coat of lip gloss. The rest I tended to ignore.
“Fine,” I muttered. “Besides, I could probably use a drink.”
Somehow, Cheyenne got her claws into me anyway. She added curls into my typically stick straight hair and made my dark blue eyes smoky. I suddenly had high cheekbones and rosy cheeks. My lips were full and red. I hardly recognized myself.
I slipped into the black sequined dress and booties, slid the hoop earrings into my ears, and adjusted the diamond ring on my right hand that my father had given me this weekend. Seeing my reflection in the mirror made me anxious.
This was not the Aribel Graham who had dated Benjamin Curtis and cared more about her calculus homework than the breakup.
I almost felt…powerful.
It was a feeling I’d never associated with getting dressed up like this. I knew I was powerful because I was smart and determined to succeed. I knew I was powerful because I wouldn’t let other people stand in my way or make me feel like less for knowing who I am. Now, for the first time, I felt powerful as a woman.
If only Grant could see me like this…
My heart sank.
No Grant tonight though.
I rolled my shoulders back and stood up straight. If he didn’t call me before midnight, then I’d have to take this into my own hands. I would not be the girl who sulked over a boy on her birthday.
Determined and with a plan of action, I left the house with my girlfriends.
Cheyenne pulled up to the League, and I nearly groaned.
“Isn’t there anywhere else in town we can go to get a drink?”
“Yes. But why would we want to?” she asked.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because I haven’t heard from Grant in four days, and I don’t want to be reminded of him.”
The silence constricted the air in the car. Cheyenne exchanged a look with the girls in the backseat.
Shelby finally responded, “It’s going to be okay. Try not to think about Grant tonight.”
“Do I have any choice in the matter?”
“Nope,” Cheyenne said, popping the door to her car.
I counted to five before following her out of the car. I walked precariously on my high heels toward the club. A sense of foreboding washed over me. I didn’t want to be here. Tension pricked at my skin, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.
“Maybe we shouldn’t go in,” I said, stopping before the entrance. “I don’t feel good. I want to go home.”
Cheyenne gave me an exasperated look. “You cannot go home, looking like that.”
“I can do whatever I want.”
“What she means”—Shelby wrapped her arm around mine—“is that you cannot get down on yourself so hard, all because of one boy.”
“Guys are all idiots,” Gabi agreed. “Grant is super hot, but he’s still just a boy.”
“Going home now would be giving in,” Shelby said.
“Yeah. You’re better than this,” Cheyenne said.
I closed my eyes in frustration. They were right. I was better than this. I didn’t need a guy to make it okay for me to go out like this.
I just wished he were here to see it. I wished he were here constantly, even when we were arguing. I missed him. The thought struck me harder than the
rest of it. I needed to call him, and he needed to come see me.
“I’m going to make a phone call, and then I’ll meet you inside.”
“We’ll wait for you,” Gabi said quickly.
“Seriously, it’ll only be a minute.”
Cheyenne grabbed Gabi’s and Shelby’s arms. “Come on, girls. Let’s go inside. We’ll see you in a minute, but if we wait longer than five, we’re sending out a rescue squad.”
“Fine,” I said, fluttering my fingers at them.
As soon as they were gone, I dialed Grant’s number. It rang forever before clicking over to voice mail. I sighed with regret.
Guess he doesn’t want to talk to me after all.
I’d made the effort. I’d felt so guilty for holding back from calling, but now that I had, he hadn’t answered.
Wishes really didn’t come true. It had been silly to hope that we could fix everything that had gone wrong.
One drink. I’ll stay for one drink, I told myself as I walked into the League.
The room was dark, pitch-black, and I couldn’t see a thing.
What the hell? What was going on? Where were my friends and all the other bar patrons? Had the lights gone out? There wasn’t a storm or anything.
Then, all of a sudden, light flooded the room, and people burst from their hiding spots as they yelled, “Happy birthday!”
Icy wind whipped at my leather jacket as my motorcycle zipped down the narrow side street. My fingers were numb inside the thick gloves gripping the bike. My lips were chapped and raw behind my helmet, and my lungs ached from breathing in the wintry air.
Yet I throttled the accelerator, leaned into the bike, and pushed it to the max. The hum of the bike and the winds high-pitched whistling were my only companions. I was outrunning my problems as usual. I kicked the bike into overdrive and hit the ground, going over a hundred miles an hour. Maybe I could outpace my demons, outpace the fact that my world was crumbling about as fast as a demolition team could take down a building.
My father was out of jail.
My band was picking up steam at the exact wrong time.
