Page 13 of Oops Baby for the Rockstar
“Give me your phone.”
I bark out a laugh. “Worst mugging ever,” I say, but I dig out my phone, unlock it and slap it into her palm anyway, because if there’s a risk of her breaking into a sprint and selling my shit online… so be it. I’ll take that risk if it gets me closer to Tamsin. Besides, there’s no way this girl could outrun me in those heeled ankle boots.
“This is my number,” blondie says as she types it into my phone, “not Tamsin’s.” I open my mouth to argue that I don’t fucking wanthernumber, but she shuts me up with a glare and adds, “You can call tomorrow at nine. I happen to know that Tamsin has the morning off, andifshe wants to talk to you… you can talk then. Otherwise, I’ll let it ring out.”
My heart is lodged somewhere in my throat as I double check the new number in my phone.Photographer Patty, she’s saved it as.
Holy shit.
My hand shakes as I shove my phone back in my pocket. Is this for real? I could actually speak to Tamsin tomorrow morning, after months and months of wondering where she is and why she left? I could hear her husky voice say my name?
“Thank you,” I grit out, almost too overwhelmed to speak.
“Don’t thank me yet,” Photographer Patty mutters. “Let’s see how this goes.”
* * *
The next morning, at nine AM sharp, I grip my phone so tightly the case creaks, pressing it against my ear. The line rings and rings, and as the seconds pass, I start to sweat.
I’m back in the city park where we performed last night, and where we have another show tonight before we pack up and move on. It’s a whole other world on this cloudy morning: quiet and calm, with dog walkers and joggers out enjoying the paths. Our empty stage squats on a hill in the distance, and I squint at it from where I’m leaning against a big tree stump.
We must look so tiny to the folks at the back of the crowd. Like little critters performing on stage.
The line rings on. Even though it’s cloudy this morning, the air is still muggy with summer heat, and a drop of sweat rolls down my spine.
“Come on, come on,” I mutter through gritted teeth. “Please.”
I let it ring for a long time. Probably longer than I should. For so long that the sleepy half of my brain that hasn’t woken up yet keeps thinking there should be tinny music or a recorded message that my call is important and to please hold the line.
My boot scuffs against the grass. It’s been a long, dry summer already, and the grass looks parched.
Ring, ring.
Ring, ring.
She’s not gonna pick up, is she?
My chest is an ashen wasteland. Swallowing hard, I start to lower the phone from my ear.
“Hello?”
The voice is so quiet, but I slam the phone back to the side of my head.
“Tamsin? Are you there?”
There’s a long pause, followed by a shaky breath. “Yes. I’m here.”
Emotions riot through me, almost too intense to bear. Relief, delight, longing, bitterness, fear. This is the woman that turned my world upside down in a single night, and then walked away without a backward glance. I don’t know how to feel.
“Good,” I say at last, because after wanting to speak to this girl for so long, I suddenly have no damn clue what to say. “Okay, good. Thanks, uh. Thanks for taking my call.”
Were we always this stilted? Always this formal?
Definitely not. There was nothing formal about the way Tamsin kissed me outside that stadium, her body arching to press against mine.
“I miss you,” I gust out, and even if it’s the wrong thing to say, even if it’s too much too soon, it’s such a relief to say the words out loud. “I don’t know where I went wrong that night, but I want a do-over. When you left that morning, it’s like you scooped out my chest and took everything with you.” Melodramatic? Yes. Accurate? Also yes. “Come on, baby. Give this another shot.”
Tamsin’s breaths are coming quick over the line. She’s not unaffected by this either, thank god.
