Page 38 of Wish You Would

Frowning, I searched the stage for a new face. Had they replaced Jas yet? Or was Gigi filling in again? My heart tripped over itself at the thought of seeing her light up the stage. Watching her light up from the inside, that confidence dialed up to eleven, owning the moment like she belonged there.

Because she did, I thought. She belonged onstage like starfish belonged in the sea.

Leaning forward, I searched for a shock of red-orange hair. A pair of dark eyes that saw too much, and yet not nearly enough. A mouth that—

“Hey, creeper.”

I jumped so hard I smacked my elbow on the table. “Shoot,” I hissed, cradling it with my hand.

“Sorry.” Gigi sat down across from me, an apologetic wince on her face. “You okay?”

Rubbing my arm, I blinked back the sting of tears and nodded. I’d hit just the right spot, that spot that made your fingertips tingle. Funny bone, my butt. “Yeah,” I lied. “Fine.”

“Liar.” Gigi stood, moving to my side. “Let me see.”

“I’m okay,” I insisted. “I’m—”

My protest dissipated as she took my arm in her hand, touch gentle as she pulled it away from my body. Softly, she pushed the sleeve of my sweater up and traced her fingertips over the aching joint, eyes narrowed. “I was afraid of this,” she said, looking up to meet my gaze.

“What?”

It was barely a whisper, my voice lost to the sensation of her skin on my skin. My dreams had been haunted by the absence of her touch, and I didn’t know it until this very moment.

Too soon, she pulled away. “You need a drink.”

“A drink.” I frowned, hoping my disappointment wasn’t written all over my face. “For my elbow?”

“Oh, no.” She waved me off, eyes glittering in the dim light. “Ice, maybe, though. The drink is because you had a long day.”

My frown deepened as I struggled to keep up with her. “I just got here,” I said. “How do you know I had a long day?”

“Well, there’s that.” She motioned to my backpack on the floor beside my chair. “Clearly, you came from campus. Also.” Leaning in, she tugged at a lock of hair, her knuckles brushing against my neck. I inhaled sharply, heat flaring low in my belly, pain in my elbow forgotten. “You’ve got your stress curl.”

I reached up, touching the piece of hair she indicated. “My stress curl?”

Her lips tilted. “Yeah. You twist this piece of hair when you’re stressed.” She reached for it again, our fingers tangling. “The longer the day, the curlier it gets.”

“I—” I looked up, something soft and warm spreading in my chest. “How do you know that?”

Gigi shrugged, backing away. “You’ve set up shop in every corner of this bar for months,” she said, “your mountain of textbooks and piles of notes and so, so many highlighters.” Eyes moving over my face, she shrugged again. “I’ve noticed some things.”

What else have you noticed, I wanted to ask. What else have you seen?

But before I could get the words out, Anya sauntered across the bar. “All right,” she said as she reached us. “You ready?”

I pushed my chair back and stood. “Yeah, I—”

“Oh, wait!” She put a hand on my shoulder, her other on Gigi’s. “Do you want to say hi to your drummer girl?”

“What,” Gigi started as I said, “No, I’m good.”

“But it’s the perfect time, isn’t it?” She looked from Gigi to me, green eyes widening. “To put those flirting lessons to use?” There was something in her tone. Something like challenge. Which reminded me of her skepticism over brunch the other day. Was she…testing me? Testing Gigi?

My stomach plummeted to the floor. I wasn’t ready. I needed more time. More lessons. I didn’t—

“Come on,” Anya said, giving me a shake. “Let’s go.”

My mouth dropped open. I looked at Gigi, I silently urging her to say something, anything, to get me out of this.

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