Page 43 of Ticket to the Stars: Part One

A part of me, the protective part, flared up, and I took a tiny step toward him and whispered, “No. You’re going to apologize, and you’re going to do it right now.”

He could tell I wouldn’t back down, and even though he had both height and muscle on me, he sighed and relented. He walked around me and vanished down the hall. I heard him knock on Angel’s door, and then he went in.

On Maggie’s door, I should say.

Maybe I felt so protective over her because I knew her, because I used to know her. Before my parents got divorced, she’d been one of my best friends—before puberty hit and it became weird to be so close to the opposite sex. She was ten, and I was twelve. I still remembered the last day I saw her, the look on her face, how we thought we’d see each other again.

Because that’s what you did when you were a kid. You thought nothing would ever change. You innocently thought things would stay the same forever. I certainly hadn’t expected my parents to divorce—sure, my mom and dad got into fights, but I’d thought that was normal for people their age. I was wrong, and by the time I’d known what was happening, that I was moving, I didn’t even have the chance to say goodbye.

I never forgot her, though. My love of all things music only grew once I moved away; it was like I tried desperately to keep that part of our friendship alive. Her memory was the reason I was here now.

I’d looked her up a few times, checked in on her. I never friend requested her or followed her; I didn’t want to drag her back into the past. She’d grown close to a girl named Alexa, and I’d thought that meant she’d forgotten me.

And now we were here together. What were the odds? She was here and she didn’t even remember me. It hurt. Of course it hurt, but maybe it was for the best. Maybe remembering me and our friendship would only complicate things further, something no one here needed. Things were already complicated enough.

My ears picked up the sound of a door opening and closing, and in a few seconds, Priest appeared, wearing a frown—something he didn’t normally. “She didn’t want to talk to me,” he whispered, almost sounding sad. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he actually cared.

Good thing I knew better.

“Maybe I should try,” I said.

Priest nodded. “Good idea.”

I was before her door within thirty seconds, my knuckles tapping on the wood. Inside, I heard her say, “Go away. I want to be left alone.” She sounded utterly serious about it too, but unfortunately for her, I wasn’t going to stop.

I had to make sure she was okay. I didn’t want her to cry or anything. I wanted… well, what I wanted was to go back in time, when things were simpler, when we were nothing more than kids having fun together. Singing, playing instruments, generally being free.

It was so depressing to think we weren’t free now.

I pushed inside her room anyways, gently closing the door behind me the moment her blue eyes snapped up. She was laying on her bed, on her side, scrolling on her phone, the pizza box untouched, but she put that phone down the second I walked in, and she sat up and huffed, “I already told Priest I didn’t want to talk about it, so just go.”

“That might’ve scared Priest away, but it won’t scare me off,” I told her, slowly moving toward her bed. I sat on the edge gingerly, not getting too close to her.

She shot me a frown, and she scooted away from me. She picked up her pillow and sat her ass where it’d been so her back could lean against the headboard. The pillow she moved to her lap, hugging it close.

“Just go away,” she muttered. Her eyes were not puffy or red-rimmed, so I didn’t think she’d actually cried—a good sign. I’d feel even shittier if she had. “I don’t want to talk to you or Priest or Deacon.”

“Don’t worry. Deacon’s not out there waiting for his turn,” I joked, but all I got was a frown. I tried to think up a good way to go about this, but the intensity of the frown she was giving me made my mind go haywire.

Even with that frown, she really was so pretty. I wanted to scoot closer to her, pull that pillow from her arms and drag her onto my lap. I wanted to hold her and tell her… tell her that I was sorry, that we weren’t assholes and that Priest didn’t mean anything he’d said.

I wanted to tell her I remembered her, but she didn’t remember me, so what would be the point in that?

“You should hear Priest out. The man doesn’t really apologize that often,” I said. “He—”

“I don’t care. I don’t care, okay? I’m fine. You didn’t hurt my feelings or whatever. You guys think I, what, have a crush on you or something? You think I give a shit that Priest said I’m not his type? Right.” Angel rolled her eyes.

Now who’s the liar?I wanted to ask, but I held that part in, instead saying, “Angel, I’m not here to tell you what you’re feeling or not. I just don’t want things to get…” What was the right word here? “Strained between us. This… we haven’t even started.”

This was only the beginning, it was true. There was still so much left for Angel and us to do.

“Get over yourself,” she huffed. “All of you need to get your egos checked. Get out.” She turned her face away from me, the words she said final. There would be no more discussion.

I swallowed down whatever else I might’ve said, got up, and left.

Priest was waiting for me in the living room, pacing—something out of the norm for him. His gray eyes studied me as he asked, “How’d it go?”

Couldn’t he tell? “Not well.”

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