Page 92 of On the Beat

“I missed you, too,” I say, and I mean every word. That’s the problem. I’ve known what it was to live before her, what it was to live without her–and I don’t want to do it again. It’s not that I can’t live without her. It’s that I didn’t realize I needed her–didn’t realize I trulylovedher–until she was gone. Until she’d betrayed me.

“Then, let’s be together. I know–” she moves closer, her hand over mine. “I know I hurt you, but… things can be different. Can’t they?”

Please. That’s what I read in her eyes: a plea for me to forgive her. To accept her apology and move on.

I accepted Poppy’s apology. I even forgave River. I think of Naoya. Even he can be somewhat redeemed, if only in my too-hopeful imagination.

But it’s different with Isla. If I forgive her… I have to trust her completely.

I chew on my lower lip. Every cell in my body; every beat of my heart is screaming at me to forgive her. I just don’t know if I can, or if I even should.

Isla gets up, her hand sliding away from mine. “This was a mistake—“

“No.” Her words strike a chord in me, reminding me of how we once said those same words to each other, that our kiss in the pool was a mistake. That our getting together was a mistake. I thought that once, too. “No, it isn’t. Letting you go was the mistake, and you writing that article was a mistake, but this? Us? We’re not a mistake, Isla. We could never be one.”

Her eyes widen. “You mean that?”

I nod, fiercely wanting her to believe it but not having the words to say. “I mean every word, Isla.”

In one fluid motion, she leans over and kisses me.

This kiss is not rough or demanding; it isn’t careful and fragile, like what we have is easily breakable or already broken. Instead, it’s sweet, tender, like we’re putting the pieces of ourselves back together. It’s everything I didn’t know I needed, all the things I didn’t know I wanted, melding together at once.

It’s not that I wasn’t whole before. I just don’t think I realized all the ways my life was better with her in it. Now that I have, I never want to let her walk away.

Chapter 40: Isla Romero

My apartment intercom buzzes, telling me there are visitors here to see me. My parents know I share an apartment with a guy—with Kaiden—but I think they also believe he’s gay, so I scramble to remove any of his personal effects from the main living area. Thankfully, he’s neat, only having discarded a few beer bottles in the recycling bin and a pair of Birkenstock sandals by the front door. I finish straightening up the apartment just in time to hear a knock.

“Mom? Dad? What are you doing here?” I unlatch the deadbolt, wishing I had an opening line that sounds less like I’m trying to hide something from them.

“We’re here to see you, silly!” My mother flings her arms around me. She smells like she always does: Glysomed hand cream and vanilla, a scent that never fails to remind me of home.

“You didn’t even call, and you just saw me a few weeks ago—”

She continued as though she hadn’t heard me. “Plus, your boyfriend flew us out here.”

“Ryderflew you and Dad out here?” Even after we made up, I thought we’d take baby steps in our relationship. Flying my parents out for to L.A. for the weekend–even though I’m not complaining–is far from taking it slow.

“Why do you sound so surprised, honey?” My mom touches my cheek. “Did you two get into a fight?”

“I knew I never liked him for a reason,” my dad says, and I laugh.

“I thought you didn’t like him because you thought he was a musician and a bum, busking on the streets for money,” I retort.

“That was before we found out he actually does quite well… for a musician,” Dad says. “Apparently, he’s going to be performing at the Grammy’s with some Japanese singer.”

My eyes widen and I hurriedly search on my phone for the Grammy’s performances tonight. Sure enough, Naoya and Ryder will be playing a song together.

Have we fallen through time and landed in a weird alternate universe? I text Ryder frantically. We’ve talked on the phone since we made up, but he didn’t tell methis.

You and Naoya are performing a song together tonight? Is this a strange fever dream?

He writes back.If it is, please wake me up. I’m going to kill him if he makes one more comment about his hair gel.A selfie is attached, showing Ryder in the foreground with Naoya getting his hair and makeup done in the background.

I grin at the picture of Ryder making a silly pose, Naoya completely oblivious to the snap.

Then the reality sets in, I’m going to the Grammys. With my parents. Tonight. I turn to my mother, as I always have in moments of sartorial distress. “So… what are we going to wear to the Grammys?”

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