Page 17 of Love Out Loud

“Yes, you.” She giggled, and it was a magical sound. Warm. Sparkling. Beautiful, some little voice said, springing up in the back of my head. She was really pretty, I realized. And for some reason, she was talking to me.

“Uh, hi,” I said uselessly.

“I’m Lark.” She stuck out her hand with her long, thin fingers pointed toward me.

By the grace of whatever in the universe is holy, I had the good sense not to stand there like an idiot. I took her hand in mine and shook it. “I’m Lennon.”

She tilted her head, and I steeled myself for what I knew was coming next. Like John? It came without fail, every single time I met someone new.

But instead, she smiled again, like it was easy for her to do so. Like she never had to think about whether or not she was really happy. She just was.

“I like L names,” she announced. “Lark and Lennon. Sounds musical, doesn’t it?”

It took me so much by surprise that I gaped at her for what felt like multiple minutes. She didn’t seem uncomfortable by it, though. She stood there, her tiny frame unabashedly taking up as much space as it could with her shoulders squared and her back ramrod straight. It was clear to me that she was the type of person who was not only used to people looking at her but who liked it when they did.

Must be nice to be seen like that, I thought. I sort of wished some of her visibility would rub off on me.

“You want to play?” she asked, nodding toward the doorway where the kids inside had started up their nonsense words again.

“Play?”

“This is Drama Club. You know, the theater kids? We’re doing improv games today.” She adorably scrunched up her nose. “It’s a little weird, but it’s fun once you get the hang of it.”

“Oh,” I said, my shoulders falling heavy with regret. “I’m not part of Drama Club.” I would have given a lot just then to spend more time in her presence, and I would have settled for joining this group and at least having something to do until someone remembered I existed.

She bounced forward on her toes, leaning closer to me as if she were going to tell me a secret. “No one is part of Drama Club until they come to a meeting. And look at you, here for a meeting.” She ticked her head toward the door. “Come on. I’ll teach you how to play.”

With that, Lark bounded past me over the threshold and into the classroom. The circle parted and made room for her, absorbing her into its circumference. I hesitated at the doorway, sure there was no more room for me in a circle that already looked complete.

A teacher I hadn’t noticed spoke up from the corner. “Lark, is your friend going to be joining us?”

She looked at me from her spot in the circle but didn’t hesitate. “Yeah, he is. Everyone, this is Lennon.”

“Hi, Lennon,” came a chorus of voices. They spoke together like a well-oiled machine. Or like a cult. It was a little disconcerting, if I was being honest. But I also desperately wanted to be a part of it.

“Hi.” I waved like a total dork and considered turning right around and walking back out in that moment. And yet the circle broke and opened up a spot next to Lark. For me, I belatedly realized. They were allowing me to be a part of this, no questions asked, which was exactly what I wanted not two minutes ago. I’d be an absolute moron not to step in.

So I did.

My phone ringing cuts through my reverie. As if my memories have summoned her, Lark’s picture lights up my phone screen. It’s a candid shot I snapped of her the last time we were together. Her head is tipped to the sky and laughter is bubbling up out of her. It’s one of those pictures you can almost hear. Warm. Sparkling. Beautiful. Still so easy for her to be happy, even when things are hard.

It’s not a video call, which must mean she doesn’t want to see me after sending that sexy-as-hell audition. That’s fair. I’m not sure I’m ready to see her, either. My face might still give too much away.

I answer the call on speaker. “Hey,” I say a little too brightly. I immediately grimace.

“Oh, great.” She knows. “You listened to it. So that’s weird now.”

“Uh…” I trail off.

“I don’t want to know what you thought,” she says quickly. “That’s not… We’re…” She pauses to find her words. “We’re not going to talk about that right now.”

I laugh softly at her discomfort. Not because I think it’s funny, but because I’m relieved it’s not just me. She laughs, too, and somehow that’s enough to kick us back into our normal rapport.

“What’s going on, Songbird?”

Her laughter is cut short by a sigh. “Listen, I know you have a room at your place opening up, which is why you want me to stay with you. But…um…I was thinking, maybe that’s not a great idea.”

I frown and run my hand through my shaggy hair. I should probably get a haircut before she gets here. “Why not?”