Page 98 of Wish You Would

She dropped into the seat next to me with a sigh. I glanced sideways at her. “Don’t do it,” I said. “I’ve gotten enough lectures to last me twenty lifetimes. I don’t need another one.”

“Oh, I’m not gonna lecture you.” She sat back, eyes straight ahead. Everyone else scattered like guilty teens caught smoking in the bathroom, leaving us alone. “That’d be a waste of both of our time.”

“Thanks.” Tracing my thumb along the edge of my phone, I exhaled. It did nothing to ease the knot in my chest.

“You know,” Halle said, “I’m constantly surprised by how stupid people can be.”

Frowning, I looked her way. She still stared ahead, giving nothing away. After a second, she continued. “You love her, don’t you?”

The question hit me like a flaming cannon ball, right to the chest. I sank back in my chair, air knocked out of me. Yes, I thought. Of course I do. And, More than life itself.

But I said: “What does it matter?”

“You’re joking, right?” Halle turned to face me, brows drawn together. “What does it matter?”

I couldn’t look at her. Instead, I gripped my phone tighter, watching the way my hands whitened. “Yeah,” I said, my voice quieter than before “What does it matter?”

In my periphery, I could see Halle shake her head, dumbfounded. There was quiet then, and I thought I was free of Halle’s scrutiny, her scorn. But instead of getting up and going back to her pre-show routine, she stayed put, and I knew she wasn’t done.

I knew she wasn’t done, but I wasn’t ready for what she’d say next.

“Maybe you don’t deserve her, then.”

My head shot up. I faced her, a flash of anger flaring hot inside my chest. “You don’t know—”

“There it is.” She booped my nose with her fingertip. “There’s the give-a-damn.”

“What do you mean?” I jerked out of her reach, the flash becoming a fire. “Of course I give a damn. I give too many damns. That’s the problem.”

“Then fucking show it.” She stood and tugged her low-rise cargo pants up. Then, she pointed at my phone, still face down on my thigh. “Regardless of what that text says, she thought of you tonight. Whether it was to tell you she hopes you crash and burn, or to wish you luck, she thought of you. And she did something about it, which is more than can be said for you.”

“Jesus, Hal—”

“I’m just saying.” She shrugged, as if she hadn’t gutted me like a fish. “Maybe don’t be such a goddamn coward.” Then, before I could argue, could even think of a retort, she walked away.

I watched as she joined everyone else in the farthest corner, where they commiserated quietly. I glared their way, and, in eerie unison, they all gave me a thumbs up.

“What the fuck?” I whispered. Picking my phone up, I flipped it over. Her name was still there, the notification untouched. My heart squeezed so tight I thought it would burst. Blowing a slow breath out between pursed lips, I pressed my shaking fingertip to the screen and opened the message.

Break a leg tonight, it read.

Break a leg tonight

No punctuation, no emojis. Just four little words. Four words so devoid of personality, of emotion, of Parker, that I wasn’t sure how to process them. I stared at the screen until the words blurred, until they ceased to make sense. Halle’s words echoed in the back of my mind: Regardless of what it says, she thought of you tonight.

She thought of you tonight.

She thought. Of you.

She thought of me.

The realization hit like a bass drum, vibrating from my marrow to my skin. I closed my eyes, gripping my phone tight in both my hands, oxygen leaving my body in a mighty gust.

It could mean nothing, I told myself. It could change nothing.

But maybe, another voice chimed in. Maybe it could change everything.

With that thought buoying me, I stood from my chair and joined the band for our pre-show huddle.

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