Page 33 of Busted Dreams

“Beck, I…” I kept scrolling, not even trying to hold a conversation with him.

“Okay, last warning.”

In my peripheral, his hand edged toward my phone until I swatted it away.

“One hundred and fifty-two thousand, three hundred and twenty-four likes.” I glanced at him before I continued, but he seemed like he wasn’t even listening. His eyes were glazed over and his mouth slack, like he’d just taken a nasty blow to the head. “Fifty-nine thousand follows. Are you ready for the views?”

He didn’t respond, so I took that as his desire to hear the rest.

“Four hundred and ninety-eight thousand views. In less than twenty-four hours.” Then I screamed.

He whooped with me, jumping and twisting in his seat. The impact of how unreal this was finally settled over him. It took several minutes to calm down enough for me to continue with my report.

“Are you ready for the comments?”

“Fuck, I don’t know. Am I?” He screwed up his mouth and pinched his brows together.

Instead of answering his question, I started reading off the comments. “Over a thousand comments. One says, ‘damn, where do I go for an oil change?’ and another says, ‘please, please, please make more. I need to know this man.’ Another says, ‘I need to know this guy’s age stat.’ ‘I volunteer as tribute. I will be the backup pretty girl,’”

It took at least ten minutes to read most of the comments. School was going to start soon, and if we didn’t get there, I’d be marked tardy. Reluctantly, Beck pulled back onto the road.

“Are you messing with me? Is all of that really on there?” Hope clung to him like a fluffy cloud, and I wanted nothing more than to build it up even higher. Because what did we have if we didn’t have hope? Life was all about self-fulfilling prophecies. Raised in the church all my life, they taught faith and God’s will, like our future was already set for us. But I didn’t believe that for a minute. Life was what you make it, and no one ever made it to their destination without taking the steps to get there.

That’s what this was. Steps. Now that Beck saw there was real traction and a way for him to gain followers, he might take those steps without me forcing the issue.

“Really. I can’t believe it either.” Every time my screen dimmed, I tapped it, unwilling to lose the view of the notifications still rolling in. “There’s so many people asking for more videos, more songs, more, more, more.”

Too soon, we were at the school curb. I needed to get out, but I couldn’t. I’d planned this poorly. Now I had to leave when all I wanted to do was bask in the happiness radiating off of Beck.

A car honked behind us.

I still sat there.

“I can’t believe it,” Beck whispered as he stared through his front windshield.

“Believe it,” I whispered back.

“Okay, pretty girl. You better go inside. The guys would never forgive me if you were late. They might take away my morning driving privileges.” He chuckled, his eyes bright and shiny.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Are you picking me up?” I picked up my tasseled, boho backpack from the floorboard and slipped it over one shoulder.

“Yeah, I’ll be here.” He traced the shell of my ear with his fingers, then I opened my door and got out.

I didn’t turn around as I merged into the endless stream of students entering the building. If I had, I would have run back to watch his video with him over and over again.

* * *

The first halfof the week blurred by. Studying, eating, sleeping, picture-taking, and short moments with the guys. The latter was actually scarcer than I’d have liked. Rhys was busy with the coach, planning his college visits and putting in extra practice now that they were competing for state championships. Jonah was busy with his committees and student council stuff. Thatcher was there, but not when I saw him during class. I’d asked him what was wrong, but he brushed me off, saying he was fine. The dark circles under his eyes and fine lines bracketing his mouth said otherwise, but I let it go. He’d just lost his dad, and while he might not have had any respect for him, he probably still loved him. Maybe even missed him.

Would I miss my parentals if they passed? Would I cry?

I didn’t know, and hopefully, I wouldn’t have to face that part of myself for a long time. I was afraid it would show too many truths I wasn’t ready for.

Beck was the one constant. I saw him every morning and every afternoon when he dropped me off. There wasn’t much time outside of that with his work and band practices, but every time we were together, we brainstormed what the next video would be.

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