Page 180 of Silver Sweet

I shrug. “You’re only a part of my lifelong dreams. It would be weirder if I wasn’t.”

“Agreed.” He watches me peek at my phone and refresh a few tabs.

Backbeat Ledger,nothing.

Rolling Stone,nothing.

Pitchfork,nothing.

His frown deepens off mine. Phoenix doesn’t even give a shit what these critics say. He’s not seeking external validation as much as he just wants to play rock music for a living.

Ugh, I’m ruining the mood.

“Take it,take it.” I shove my phone into his chest. “I can’t keep checking for reviews. It’s bringing emotional distress, and that’s not the vibe tonight.”

He clutches my cell. “You want me to hang onto your phone all night?” he says like I’ve lost it.

“Yes.Protect my phone. My birthday wish.”

He slips my phone in the cargo pocket at his thigh. “You realize you don’t get an unlimited number of birthday wishes?”

“It’s my birthday, dude. I make the rules.”

“Has anyone ever called you a birthdayzilla?”

“Yes. They were all dicks. I’ll add you to the list.”

His eyes perform an attractive roll on me. He zips his pocket shut, and he’s about to reply when we both get distracted.

Harriet is headbanging to a song off our album. Phoenix smiles down at her, and I wince into a groan, “Harry. Do not tell me that ‘Hellbent’ is your favorite song.”

“It’s not my favorite,” she deadpans.

It’s totally her favorite. “You would lovethe song that destroys my voice.”

“It’s not because of you,” she says. “The drums go hard, dude.”

Phoenix smiles. “It’s because of me, nepo baby.” He fist-bumps Harriet, and I blink so much that I wonder if I can transport myself to another dimension where this isn’t happening in front of my face.

“Made these for you.” Harriet pulls off several bracelets climbing up her wrists. She dangles the purple beads up at me and Phoenix.

I take one and seeSILVER SWEETin block letters. “You made me a birthday gift?” I start to laugh.

“I madeThe Carrawaysa gift. You just happen to be attached.”

Phoenix slips the bracelet on his wrist. “Saythank you, Tom.”

“Thank you, Tom,” I say.

Harriet grimaces. “On second thought, they should just go to Phoenix.”

My mouth falls. “You can’t take back a birthday pres?—”

“It’snota birthday present.” She snatches the bracelet out of my hand. We play tug-of-war for two seconds before the beads burst off the elastic string.

They scatter the floorboards.

Harriet looks immediately crestfallen, and I don’t ask her how long this arts and crafts project took. “I have string,” I say. “I can fix this.”