Page 52 of Love Out Loud

I didn’t know what it was. Maybe the set of her jaw or the earnestness in her eyes, but I felt courageous then. I opened my mouth to say something like that, but what came out instead was a quiet, “I know.”

She stayed silent for another beat, studying me. Then, she sighed and looked off into space. “Richard asked me out,” she said, her gaze not meeting mine.

It was like a knife in the gut. Four simple words, and the air was knocked out of me. “Are you going to go out with him?” I managed to choke out.

If she noticed my struggle, she didn’t let on. She shrugged and said, “Might as well, I guess.”

I nodded slowly. Richard was an okay guy. Not my favorite person in the world, but he seemed pretty decent. He’d probably go to college and get a job in finance or something boring and stable. Lark deserved someone like that. Not a drifter like me.

“I’m thinking of applying to colleges on the West Coast,” I blurted out for no reason other than to change the subject. I hadn’t really been thinking about it with any seriousness, but there it was. Out in the open.

Lark hummed distractedly. “That makes sense for you, I think,” she said. She smiled up at me, the expression completely changing her face, and the breath was knocked out of me again. “Maybe I could come visit you.”

Lark’s hand landing gently on my back brings me out of the memory and into the present. My parents are looking around the living room, and Lark is eyeing me with concern. I excuse myself to change into some actual clothes and get a handle on my emotions, then we spend the next hour or so chatting, until my dad pointedly mentions some golf tournament he wouldn’t mind watching now that they’re somewhere with a television.

I turn it on, then go to the kitchen to make myself more coffee. Lark joins me after a few minutes, standing close enough that the heat of her body seeps into my skin. She places her hand over mine where it rests on the counter. I stare at her still-delicate fingers as they thread through mine and squeeze. The motion is familiar; it’s the same thing she’s always done when she knows I’m upset.

“This can’t be easy,” she says softly.

I nod, swallowing audibly. “Yeah.” I look down at her, and her brows are pinched with concern. “Just threw me for a loop. I’ll be fine.”

Her hand remains on mine as she watches me for a moment, probably knowing I’m full of shit but not willing to make me admit it while they’re still here. She leans into me slightly. Her presence steadies me, reminds me that they’ll leave but she won’t.

Except she will. She’s only got another few weeks here while she wraps up recording, and then she’s back to her life in Michigan. The realization hits me like a ton of bricks and throws me completely off-center. For a few hours, I was able to live in denial, thinking there was some way we could be together like I’m sure now that we were always meant to be. But now I have more questions than answers, and I have to power through time with my parents before I can ask any of them.

I shift my gaze to the coffee, which has long since finished brewing. The nutty scent of it fills the air, and it suddenly seems like a sour smell. “I’m struggling,” I say quietly.

“I’m here,” she whispers as she gives my hand another squeeze.

My brain screams the obvious and most pressing question at me: Yeah, but for how long?

But I don’t want her to see any of this, and I certainly don’t need my parents involved in my mental turmoil, either. Not now. Not when things were just getting good.

I smile down at her reassuringly, putting my anxieties away for later. “You’re my favorite person in the world, Songbird.”

She beams up at me, and for a second, it feels like everything might be all right after all.