Page 31 of Love Me Steadfast
On the firstday of summer practice, Theo offers to pick me up, but when I head outside, Charlotte is in the backseat with a guy I don’t recognize. For a split second, I’m annoyed. Why is Charlotteriding in the back like some second class citizen? Then I realize who the guy is, and I’m even more annoyed.
“We gotta drop Charlie and Crosby at the Pavilion,” Theo says.
I toss my gear into the bed of Theo’s truck and climb in the front seat. When I went back to tutoring second semester, Charlotte wasn’t there. Theo admitted they had some family stuff going on, but wouldn’t say more. I wanted to ask Charlotte about it, but I’m not one to pry. I know what it’s like to want privacy. When my family fell apart, and Zach and I ended up in foster care, the last thing I wanted was to fucking talk.
But seeing her now makes me wish I had tried. I miss her sass. And that warm smile of hers. The one that lights up her eyes.
How is it that girls I barely know want to hang out with me but the one girl I could actually see myself with is off limits?
Theo backs out of my driveway and cruises out of the neighborhood.
“What’s going on at the Pavilion?” I ask, risking a quick glance in the rearview mirror. Charlotte’s wearing a pale green sleeveless button down shirt that shows off her tanned shoulders, and white shorts. She looks…dressed up. Pretty. But that’s nothing new. It’s her eyes, and that regal nose—even though sometimes it’s pointed a little too high in the air—and those adorable freckles.
Stop fucking thinking about her freckles.
“Summer Youth Symphony,” she replies, glancing out the window. It shouldn’t piss me off, but damn it, why won’t she look at me?
“Henrik Massey is the conductor,” Crosby says. “He’s well connected.”
I don’t have a clue what any of this means, but Charlotte gives a nod.
“Charlie made second chair,” Crosby adds. I catch the flush on his cheeks when he glances at her. “And we’re gonna be in a quartet for theseason finale.”
Wait, is this Crosby guy into Charlotte? Fuck. I make a fist and tap it against my knee.
Theo pulls into the large turnaround adjacent to the pavilion. Before he’s even stopped the truck, Charlotte is poised to jump out, like she can’t wait to get away from me.
She and Crosby clamber down from the truck, toting their instrument cases, and head across the expansive grassy lawn toward a covered stage facing rows of white chairs shaded by giant artsy-looking triangles stretched between tall poles. Crosby moves closer to Charlotte and says something that makes her laugh.
I tap my fist a little harder.
Theo pulls away and we descend to the four-way stop.
“What’s second chair?” I ask, resting my arm on the windowsill. Already, the metal is hot.
He gives me a curious glance. “Huh?”
“Charlotte made second chair. What’s that mean?”
“Oh. They get ranked or some shit. First chair means you’re the best.”
“How many kids are in this symphony?”
He shrugs. “Hundreds of kids try out, even some from out of state, but they only take about forty, I think.”
“So out of hundreds, Charlotte’s number two?”
“She’s really good,” Theo says, pride edging his expression. “She’s always practicing.”
I want to know more—how many instruments does she play? She’s in the choir too, what does she like better, playing or singing? What the hell is a quartet? Can we go to this concert?—but my questions all jam together on my tongue in a jumbled mess, so I just nod.
“Where’s Morgan today?” I ask.
His jaw tenses. “Community service.”
“Oh? What for?”
“She figured out how to open the fire hydrant on our street. The firefighters were cool with it, but their captain gave her a biglecture. We compromised on her doing community service instead of him notifying the sheriff’s department.”
