Page 62 of Forbidden Lyrics

“That didn’t sound bitter at all,” she notes, her voice thick with sarcasm. “I heard you sang with the band, though. And that he, kinda, sorta joined you on stage.”

I can feel a blush creep into my cheeks at the memory alone. “Maaaaybe.”

“And how’d it go?”

“Good enough to be invited on tour with them,” I mutter under my breath before rolling onto my side.

“What?!”

“I know.”

“Dove, that’s amazing!”

“It’s something.”

“It’s amazing,” she corrects me. “Seriously. Are you going to go?”

Shoving my hair away from my face, I look up at the popcorn ceiling and ask myself the same question that’s been running through my mind since they offered. The truth is simple. I have no idea what to do, and I hate it. The indecision. The complexity of the situation. It isn’t black and white. It’s the opposite. There’s so much gray that I barely even know what’s up and what’s down anymore.

“Your silence is very telling, ya know,” she mentions, bringing me back from the swirling mess of indecision that’s been plaguing me.

With a sigh, I admit, “I don’t know what to do, Reese. Let’s stick a pin in the whole, my sister’s pregnant and needs help argument and focus on the other snag in the opportunity.”

“And what snag is that?” Reese prods.

“Gibson. The idea of touring with him––”

“Wait. He would be there too?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought he didn’t usually tag along on the tours.”

“The bigwig who sent over the invitation to the band insisted he be there to babysit Fender to make sure he’s where he needs to be.”

“Ouch,” Reese utters. “That’s gotta be a sore spot for Fen.”

“Honestly, I think he’s just grateful for the opportunity.”

“That makes sense. But why are you nervous about touring with Gibbs?”

“Because it’s Gibbs,” I answer vaguely.

“And that’s a bad thing? I thought you liked him––”

“I do like him. And that’s the problem. I keep thinking he’s attracted to me and that he’ll kiss me at random moments. But then he doesn’t, and he resets the whole friendship boundary like I’m the one toying with the line when in reality, I feel like I’m being treated like a yo-yo. Does that make sense? I mean, who does that?” I ramble.

“River was the same way. He was so wishy-washy because he didn’t want to break Milo’s trust, but he also felt the same pull I did. And even though it was hella risky and could’ve turned out to be a giant mess, it worked out. Maybe this thing between you and Gibson will work out too.”

“Maybe,” I hedge, my voice laced with doubt. “I don’t know, though. Sometimes I feel like something is holding him back from giving me a real shot. Not that I even want a real shot. Honestly, I don’t know what I want. But it feels different with him. I feel different with him.”

“Hmm,” she hums. “A wise woman once asked me a very simple question, and I’m going to do the same for you.”

I roll my eyes, knowing exactly where she’s taking this conversation. “It’s different, Reese––”

“It really isn’t. When you’re around him, does he make you happy?”

“He makes me frustrated.”

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