Page 54 of Playing the Backbeat

“Sorry, I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Yeah, I think you do. It’ll take Dee longer to admit it to herself, but you’ll both get there. Better run along before all the cheesy potatoes are gone.” She waves me on, gesturing for me to follow her granddaughter.

I nod. “Nice to meet you. Happy birthday.” I place the vase of flowers on the gift table a few feet away before hurrying after Dee.

Any nerves I might have felt before meeting her family melt away with Dee at my side. Her family is warm, welcoming, and full of smart-asses. Seems she learned from the best.

The original plan was for us to make the round trip between Cleveland and Columbus in one day, only staying at the party for a few hours and getting home late. But Dee’s parents offer for us to stay, and when we realize how late it’s gotten, both of us sitting around the kitchen table playing cards with her cousins while Emi snores on the couch, we make the call to stay the night.

When the party finally dies down, Dee leads me upstairs to her childhood bedroom, complete with bunk beds and posters from every boy band ever in existence along with Destiny’s Child, Dream, and 3LW.

“Damn, Deanna. Bunk beds? You were a cool kid,” I muse, testing out the ladder, giving it a shake. Surprisingly sturdy.

“There are a few girls from middle school who would have disagreed with you,” she says, not missing a beat.

“Fuck. Dee, I—I’m sorry I didn’t mean—”

She holds up her hand to stop me. “Iwasa cool kid,” she claims with all of her usual confidence. “Even without the bunk beds. They just didn’t know it. And I’m still the cool kid now. Dibs on the top bunk.”

She gifts me with her sunshine smile and my heart kickstarts like a bass drum, rattling me from the inside out.

Swearing to myself that I will not put my huge foot in my even bigger mouth again, I say, “Better you than me. I’d probably break this thing and crush you.”

“My dad assembled this almost twenty years ago. I can guarantee he didn’t look at the instructions once. So, no promises I won’t do the same. Might want to just sleep with your hands braced in the air, ready to catch me and save your pretty face.”

“Seems doable.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

Dee shows me where the bathroom is, and we take turns getting ready for bed. The whole thing feels surreal but at the same time, comfortable. We’ve only lived together for a few weeks, but sharing space doesn’t feel strange like it used to.

Except when it comes time to lie down, I feel it. The weight of things left unsaid between us. And I can’t ignore it forever.

Goddammit. Nana fucking knew.

How? I didn’t even fucking know. Maybe wisdomdoescome with age.

I can’t ignore it anymore. Dee and I have always shared this fire, this push and pull, this chemistry. We’ve never fed it, never allowed it to burn brighter, become something more. But lying beneath her—nothing but a few feet and an old twin mattress between us—and all I can think about is how I wish she werenext to me. How I wish I could hold her. How I want her pressed into my side, her head resting in the crook of my neck.

There have been moments in our friendship when I’ve thought we could have been more if we wanted it. It’sconsumingme now. I want it. I want it so fucking bad, every breath apart starts to hurt.

If only Dee could hear my thoughts…what would she say? Terrified at the thought, I distract myself.

“So, any word on that billboard Emi is leasing with our dating announcement? Maybe we’ll pass it on our drive home tomorrow.”

Dee’s laugh bounces off the ceiling, making its way to me, several feet below, my feet practically hanging off the edge of the too-short bed.

“I think she did enough promotion of our relationship today. Maybe she’ll save the money. God, I think half of my family thinks you’re my boyfriend and the other half thinks you’re my boss.”

“Well, technically, one of those things is true.”

“Yeah, but it sounds worse coming from Emi. She told my uncle Rick that you were paying me for my hard work. Who knows what he thinks it’s for?”

“Your world-class drinks, of course.”

Her head pops over the railing, the old nightlight on her desk making it possible to just barely make out the soft curve of her lips. “We both know my drinks are a step up from poison.”

“See? Could be worse.”