Page 70 of Never Been Shipped

“Me, too,” he said. “God, me, too.”

Chapter

Thirty

Micah had noidea what time it was when she woke up. Without any glimpse of the sun outside, it was impossible to tell. It might be early afternoon already, although her internal clock told her it was still the middle of the night.

What she did know was that she awoke feeling warm and cozy and secure, and it was only when she reached her arm over to the other side of the bed that she realized it was empty. “John?”

His name came out as barely a whisper, so it was no wonder that he didn’t hear her. He was sitting on the edge of a chair in the corner, partially lit only by his phone resting on top of a small amp, which she could see was on from the red glowing light. He had his electric guitar plugged in, headphones on as he played through what she could tell was the lead line for “If Only.”

He’d spent so much time today making sure that she felt comfortable with her part, and then working on his vocals, that it hadn’t even occurred to her that maybe he’d be insecureabout the fact thathewas also taking on a new guitar part he didn’t normally play. And John had always been a bit of a perfectionist—it drove him crazy when he missed a note live or if he didn’t get the tone he was going for in a recording.

“John?” she said again, her voice cracking a little. She sat up, and it was that motion that caught his attention. He lifted one of the padded sides of the headphones away from his ear.

“I hope I didn’t wake you,” he said.

“You didn’t.”

“I don’t want to fuck up.”

“You won’t.”

In the shadows, she didn’t know how much of her he could make out, but she felt like he could see everything as his eyes swept over where her hair was tangled and still slightly damp down to her bare breasts over the rumpled covers of the bed. Her nipples tightened even from that one look.

“Come on, Johnny,” she said. “Come back to bed.”

He leaned the guitar against the wall, reaching over to switch off the amp and turn his phone light off. He’d dressed in his Batman pajama pants again, which she really did find ridiculously cute, but hadn’t bothered with a shirt. She ran her hands over his chest as he crawled up her body, stopping to brace himself over her.

“We never got to go to our prom,” he said.

It was true. By the time their senior prom rolled around, they’d already been fully committed on a national tour to support their album. She tried to remember what city they’d been in on that date, sure that they would’ve marked it somehow, but it was a blur.

“I would’ve asked you,” he said.

“I wouldn’t have needed to be asked,” she said. “I would’ve assumed we were going together.”

He smoothed the hair off her forehead. “Unless you were dating someone at the time,” he said. “Then you would’ve gone with them.”

She wanted to deny that. It was impossible to believe now that she would’ve wanted to spend that night with anyone other than John, even if it was just in the capacity of friends. But she knew that was revisionist history. If she’d been dating someone else, of course it would’ve been a foregone conclusion that they’d be her prom date. The only part she was absolutely confident about was that there was no way she would’ve had more fun than if she’d spent the night with John, however they’d needed to do it.

“Where would you have taken me to dinner beforehand?”

“Taco Bell,” he said, and she burst out a surprised laugh that she could tell made him smile, even in the dark. “I’m just keeping it real. Plus you loved the Crunchwrap Supreme.”

“It’s the superior Taco Bell order, and I’ll die on that hill. It has the soft tortilla, the bit of crunch, the cheese, the sour cream…a truly perfect culinary delight.”

“What would you have worn?” he asked.

She thought about that, casting back to remember her style sense then. “Maybe a ballerina pink dress with a floaty skirt, paired with my combat boots so you knew I was still punk. I would’ve made sure you knew the pink wasironic, because I didn’t know how to admit back then that I just liked the color. And I would’ve tried to get you to wear a white suit like Elvis from the ’68 comeback special, but I know you would’ve gone with black.”

“I would’ve worn whatever you wanted me to.”

“Probably ill-advised to eat a Crunchwrap Supreme in a white suit,” she said.

“I don’t know that I would’ve had much of an appetite. I would’ve been nervous at the idea of dancing with you later.”

“You’re a very good dancer,” she said.

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