Page 75 of Never Been Shipped

She’d thought maybe she would say something when they were ready to perform. Something more about how much this entire cruise had meant to her, about how proud she was of this song, about how glad she was that ElectricOh! had had the chance to be a part of something this special. But she’d already said most of that during their first concert, and she was conscious of being on a knife’s edge, emotionally, and not wanting to risk getting too overcome to even get through the song.

So she settled for just looking out over the crowd, all the people wearing their costumes and their sparkling dresses and their tuxedos, some faces she’d started to recognize from seeing them around the ship or during their impromptu sing-along thenight before. She even saw one of her bracelets on a woman’s arm, and she smiled down at her.

The sky was dark and clear and beautiful, the stars out like they knew it was a special night. She couldn’t see the water from where she was, but she felt very aware of it being out there, of existing in this suspended moment of sky and stars and ocean.

She looked at John, half expecting him to be taking it all in, too, but he was watching her. She leaned into her mic, her eyes still on him as she said, “This one’s for you.”

She strummed that first A minor chord, and she swore she gave herself goose bumps. But then she went from somehow outside the song to completely in it. Everything faded away—the crowd, the cruise, all of it, leaving only her and John.

Usually she would’ve sung most of the first part with her eyes squeezed shut, but she couldn’t do that because she didn’t trust herself not to lose her place on the guitar somehow. Instead she kept her eyes on John, and she thought maybe she’d watch his hands, tracking them to make sure she was keeping the rhythm of the song, changing chords when she was supposed to. But she didn’t need to do that. For one thing,shewas setting the rhythm of the song. He’d told her that a thousand times in practice. She could play, and he’d be right there with her.If you speed it up or slow it down, he said,I’ll be there. Just play through.

For another thing, she preferred to look at his face, his warm brown eyes so distinct, ringed with the eyeliner, his tongue touching the corner of his mouth as he concentrated on the buildup to the first chorus. When he started singing, she suddenly became aware of the crowd again, the way she couldfeeltheir energy, like they knew this was something special and different.She ended that first chorus with a high, wistful note that she would’ve never thought to add if not for him backing her up.

By the time they got to the bridge, she was barely even consciously thinking about playing the guitar anymore. It was just an extension of her hands, of her body, and she didn’t feel like she could mess up anything more than she could mess up breathing. She wasveryconscious of the lyrics to the song, though, which she suddenly felt like she was singing for the first time.I was dreaming while awake / Then fell asleep and can’t remember / Things won’t ever be the same / Are you gonna come over?

The weird thing about writing songs is that they could be so personal to you in the moment, but then years went by and they no longer meant the same thing that they once had. You performed them over and over, for radio shows, tour dates, festivals, various filmed specials and showcases. She could sing something that had made her cry when she’d originally written it, that felt like ripping out her own heart and putting it on the page, and by the hundredth time she’d be thinking more about how hot the stage lights were or if that was a crackle in the left monitor. She’d be thinking about whether she’d been flat on that last chorus, if her mic pack was coming loose. She wouldn’t necessarily be thinking about thewords.

But this was the song she’d written with John. The song she’d writtenaboutJohn, when it came down to it. It was all about longing, wishing things could be different, dreaming of a future you didn’t know was possible. She’d heard that in the music and so she’d responded with words, trying to express what she knew she could never act on.

And then the song was over, seemingly almost before it had even begun. She sang the last line, her voice low, a hitch in thenote that was half on purpose and half pure emotion. John let the last chord ring out, giving her a smile so sweet that it made her chest physically ache.

“Thank you,” he said into his mic. Then he stood up, setting his guitar down on the stool so he could turn to her, clapping the whole time. The entire crowd was cheering, and she lifted her own guitar off her so that she could stand, too. She could’ve taken a bow, or she could’ve turned to John and led her own round of applause for him.

But all she wanted to do was go to him—to touch him, to share this moment with him. So instead she wrapped her arms around him in the tightest hug, squeezing him until she felt his arms come up and wrap around her, too, his hands on her bare back. It felt so good to be in that warm embrace, and she could’ve stayed that way forever.

“We did it,” he said into her ear.

“Did you have any doubt?”

But she didn’t let him answer, because then she was kissing him, her hands at his cheeks, all her love and everything she’d ever wanted to say in the feeling of her mouth on his. She was only dimly aware of the reaction from the crowd as he lifted her slightly, her toes in her favorite platform boots almost leaving the stage.

“Whoa,” she said.

“My thoughts exactly,” he said, squeezing her one more time, giving her a kiss on the corner of her mouth. “Should we get off the stage?”

“I think contractually we’re supposed to.”

He grinned at her, taking her hand, not sparing another glance toward the crowd as they made their way down the steps.Micah knew they were about to be stopped by a bunch of people—not just other cruisers orNightshiftersfans, but possibly photographers, press, their fellow bandmates, members of other bands—and she just didn’t want to deal with any of them. She wanted to get John alone, where they could really talk, because suddenly she thought they had a lot to talk about.

Chapter

Thirty-Three

Originally, John hadthought they’d hang out at the prom a little longer, find Steve and Frankie, enjoy the music. But Micah was a woman on a mission, and all he could do was follow her as they made their way up to the top deck of the ship. The weather was the most mild it had been on their trip, but it was still a little chilly, and he wished he’d thought to wear a suit jacket if for no other reason than to be able to offer it to Micah. She had to be cold in that dress.

She didn’t seem like she even noticed the weather, though, as she turned to him once they’d found an isolated spot by the rail.

“Come to L.A.,” she said. “You can stay with me, however long you want to. I don’t want this cruise to be it for us.”

He didn’t want the cruise to be it for them, either. But he also couldn’t help but fixate on her word choice. What did that mean—staywith her? Like she wanted him to move in? Like she thought of him as a guest, a friend crashing on her couch while they saw the sights?

“It would be fun,” she said. “I’vemissedyou, John, and I don’t want to miss you anymore. And I know you have your own thing in Orlando, but it seems like you might be ready to make a change. Am I wrong?Thiscould be your change.”

He ran his hand through his hair, trying to even imagine it. All he’d ever wanted was to be with Micah. He’d always thought he’d take her in any capacity she’d give him. But he did have a life he’d built for himself, very carefully and very thoughtfully, and it might not be perfect but it washis. He was scared to leave that behind for something so uncertain, when he still didn’t even know how Micah felt about him.

Micah was watching his face, something desperate around her eyes. “Say something,” she said. “And I know you always think before you speak, butdon’tthink, it makes me nervous when you think. Just say it.”

“I want to make music with you,” he said, because that was truly the first thing that came to his mind. He hadn’t even fully realized it until he said the words aloud, but he knew immediately that they were the right ones.

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