Page 23 of Never Been Shipped

She felt like she could stillfeelthe weight of John’s hand on her breast this morning, was conscious when she breathed of her bra abrading against her nipple in a way that reminded her of his palm. It was so stupid, to have thoughts like that, and she had to figure out a way to put it out of her mind before she faced everyone at rehearsals.

But overall she was feeling good. She and John seemed better now—more like the friends they’d always been. And if she’d briefly entertainedmore than friends–type thoughts about him,well, he didn’t have to know that. The extra sleep really had helped her, and she was feeling like maybe there was a chance they could perform well on this cruise. More than that, maybe they could have some fun.

She was sitting in one of the folding chairs set up on the Starlight’s stage alongside all their instruments and equipment, chatting with Frankie, when John walked in. He did a bit of a double take when he saw her, almost like he didn’t expect that she’d already be there.

“Putting thepunkinpunctuality,” she said, grinning at him.

He made his way over to his guitar, not bothering to sit down as he lifted the strap over his neck and plugged in, pressing one of his pedals down with the toe of his Converse while he started tuning up.

“I stole that,” he said after a minute. He hadn’t been looking at her when he said it, so she couldn’t tell at first that he was talking to her.

“What?”

“From Henry Rollins,” he said. “I think I read it in some interview.”

Micah’s jaw literally dropped open. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. All those years, she’d thought he’d come up with that phrase. “You let me believe it was yours.”

“I know,” John said. “You thought it was so clever.”

“So why—”

He did glance up at her then, and there was something almost shy around his eyes. For a minute, she thought maybe he’d been semiconscious that morning after all, that he was thinking of his hand on her bare skin the way she couldn’t stopthinking about it. But that was impossible. He had definitely been sleeping.

The problem was thatshe’dbeen wide awake, and now it was hard to watch his hand as it wrapped around the neck of his guitar, his fingers easily fretting a chord that she could tell he wasn’t even thinking about.He could play me like that, she thought, and then had to look away.

What the fuck waswrongwith her?

The doors to the theater burst open, and Steve and Ryder entered in such a performatively noisy way it was like they were trying to kill the mood. Which was fine, obviously. There wasn’t any mood. Micah busied herself messing with the microphone, humming a few notes into it before holding it farther away to sing a line from “If Only.” She had already done her usual vocal warm-ups in the shower, and as shitty as he’d been in thewayhe’d said it, Ryder wasn’t wrong—she didn’t have nearly as much to do as the rest of them, since she didn’t play an instrument onstage.

To get ready for a full tour, she’d had an entire workout regime—she had a small trampoline in her apartment, and she would jump on it for hours, practicing belting out her biggest notes without getting out of breath. The old man who’d lived downstairs had eventually asked her, very nicely, if she wouldn’t mind doing that only from the hours of ten to two o’clock. She’d been happy to oblige, and after that he would sometimes bring her up a steaming bowl of noodle soup, claiming it was good for the vocal cords. It had always made her feel warm and cared for, and she swore her voice got stronger, her pitch more precise. As far as she was concerned, that soup had been magic.

“All right,” Ryder said once he had his guitar, like he was calling a meeting to order. “We can start with ‘Sunflares,’ since it’s a little faster, and then ‘Open Mouth,’ and close out with ‘Anesthesia.’ That also makes sense because—”

“We’re playing ‘If Only’ as one of the three,” Micah said.

Ryder shot her an impatient look, glancing at Steve and rolling his eyes as though they’d been over this. Micah had been feeling pretty good about this gig only a few minutes ago, and now she was already having her doubts. Surely Ryder couldn’t have turned Steve against her that soon?

Or should she have said turned against heragain? Maybe still.

“ ‘Sunflares,’ ‘Open Mouth,’ and then close with ‘If Only,’ ” Micah said firmly.

“We’re already playing that fucking song on prom night,” Ryder said. “We have to show we’re not just some one-hit wonder—”

“On this cruise, wearea one-hit wonder,” Frankie cut in. “Micah’s right. They’re here to hear that song. We should play it every chance we get. And prom night will be acoustic, whereas this one will be electric. It’ll feel different enough.”

Ryder slapped his guitar so hard the sound buzzed through his amp. “No, it won’t—”

“We have to play ‘If Only’ both times,” John said. “It’s in the contract.”

Micah had barely read the contract, if she was being honest. She’d skimmed it enough to get the gist, had checked to make sure there was nothing in there about having to spend any alone time with Ryder, and then had signed on the bottom line. But if she trusted anyone to have read the entire thing from top to bottom, it was John.

Ryder looked ready to argue, but John just kept tuning his guitar, strumming a chord until he apparently liked what he heard. “I have a copy of the contract in my room,” he said. “I can get it, if you want.”

“Let’s just run through ‘Sunflares,’ ” Ryder muttered, and Micah bit back a grin.

It took them three tries to even get through the first chorus. That shouldn’t be a surprise—it could be difficult to get into the right rhythm, even when they all knew their individual parts. Micah was just starting to panic, though, worried that shehadtanked them with her insistence on waiting to rehearse together until they were all on the cruise. Now they had to play later that night, and they could barely get through the first song.

“Hey,” John said when they took a brief break after the third try. “You’ve got this. There’s no need to rush through it.”

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