Jasmine stares. “Whoa. That’s major.”
“Yeah. Kind of,” I concede, my face on fire.
“Huh. So…an undefined phase?” Jasmine prods.
“It was that bad. And I’m embarrassed. About how my parents acted. And how I reacted.”
She shakes her head at me. “But you’re still into him?”
“Yeah.” I don’t even hesitate.
Jasmine smiles. “You never answered my question.”
“What question?”
She rolls her eyes. “About where Ben’s playing tonight.”
“Oh.” I pull out my phone and bring up the itinerary Ben sent me to track him. I scroll through the list of cities and dates to late January.
We talk most days. If not, we exchange texts or photos. He’ll send views from the road. Or coffees that he’s had that are either particularly good or particularly bad. “Not Charlie quality,” he’ll say. I’ll send him photos of the café, of the streets around UCL. Of the famed stockroom. I artfully pour coffee beans across the back table for a photo shoot worthy of the lifestyle stuff Emily’s shown me on Instagram.
Charlie Renfrew, coffee bean influencer.
“Liverpool,” I announce after a thorough scroll through their tour page to confirm the date.
“Shit, Charlie. That’s only an hour away on the express train. You should go meet him.”
“I can’t just…show up.” Dismayed, I shake my head. She makes it sound so easy. And yet some part of me’s still unsettled after that last night at my house, after the party. When everything felt discordant and out of sorts.
“Of course you can. You have boyfriend rights,” Jasmine declares. “Sexyrights.”
“Oh God, please never ever say that to me again. Take that back. Scarred. For. Life.”
Quickly, I get back to scrubbing the counter with renewed vigor. The damned thing doesn’t clean itself, especially not while Jasmine leans against it, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
“I only have your best interests at heart. Which is, like, romance baby. Go find your man. I mean, what else are you doing on a Saturday night?”
“Studying,” I retort. “Like I always do.”
“Right.” She laughs, entirely too pleased with herself. “You are not. Now you’re just making excuses. Why not go?”
“Plenty of reasons. Train fares. Time. And I’ve got responsibilities, like saving money and studying.”
“Surprises are very fun.” Jasmine’s undaunted by the realities of my life. She wiggles her eyebrows. “Never mind explicit. Your word, not mine.”
“Stop.”
Mercifully, a customer arrives then, and Jasmine gets to work, saving me from further cross-examination about my fledgling love life, so tender and new that it’ll puff away in a gust of January wind.
Chapter Forty-One
Which is how I find myself on an express train headed north to Liverpool not too long after my shift ends at 3:00 p.m. Halfpenny Rise are getting plenty of buzz on Liverpool event listings as a “must-see” tonight. I keep scrolling on my phone for more stories about Ben’s band.
The gig’s sold out, of course. I debate whether to pay through the nose for a scalper’s ticket again to keep the element of surprise. But that’s extra cash on top of the last-minute rail ticket money, which would be better going to Emily instead. Plus, there’s the logistics of actually getting in to see Ben at the rock club. I’ll give up some of the element of surprise in favor of being able to see him in person after all of this.
He’s obviously busy, and I’m not wanting to complicate his night, but if I send a text from the train that I’m on my way, that would give fair warning. So I do.
Surprise. Hopefully a good one—on my way to your gig tonight. x