Page 90 of Tell Me When It's Over

Looking back now, maybe I should have. When Mia had come downstairs, she asked where he was, and seemed a little disappointed when I told her he’d left.

“Thank you,” I tell Kyler, voice watery when I walk over to the food and examine it closer. He didn’t have to do this, obviously, but he did. For me.

I’d practiced a speech to give him over and over all day that distracted me from my lectures. Professor Adams even commented on my lack of participation, making me promise I’d come back Monday bright-eyed and bushy-tailed because she saw “something” in me that left me reeling the rest of the day considering how much I look up to her.

Still, the words I repeated over in my head are nowhere in sight now. I could tell him that I’m sorry for that night, that things like that happened, or I could play along with our silent agreement to just not talk about it.

I go with the latter.

Dropping my things onto the counter, I slide onto the stool and watch as he fetches two smaller bowls from the cupboard next to the sink and a serving spoon from the drawer. It’s not even five yet, which is a lot earlier than we normally eat, but I don’t complain. Too nervous to eat all day, my st

omach has been cramping with hunger and uncertainty that barely held down the crackers I swiped at the campus store.

He’s scooping the food out and into each bowl when he asks how school is. “Mia’s been telling me that you seem happy there. How are your classes?”

Mia would tell him that. She never mentioned they talked about me, just that he was doing okay in case I wondered. I did, but all I’d do is nod when she told me every time they got off the phone.

Grabbing the bowl he extends to me, then the fork, I give him a small smile and ignore the Mia comment for now. “It’s going okay. We haven’t done much yet. I was only assigned something today that I have to turn in on Monday.”

“And Marcia?”

He remembers her? My voice is tiny as I poke at some of the noodles. “She’s even better than I could have imagined, Ky. Those videos I showed you of her keynote speeches don’t do her any justice. Being taught by her is—” I stop when I see his lips quirked up into a crooked, amused smile. “What?”

He shakes his head, leaning his hip against the counter. “You’re fangirling your professor. Haven’t seen you that way since meeting Garrick for the first time.” Considering he didn’t even grumble over the Aussie’s name, I’d say he’s come along way. Then again, they’ve been bowling together, and out to eat with Chase, Mia, Dylan, and I. He’s had practice in not scowling since there are people to report on his every move otherwise.

“She’s who I aspire to be some day.”

Even though public relations is typically a female dominated industry, it’s lacking in female leaders. Those at the top of PR companies are almost always male, suited up and ready to bullshit their way into making more money by any means necessary. Marica beat those odds, shattering the glass ceiling, and keeps a primarily female-oriented lineage at her company to prove we can do anything men can. Why wouldn’t I want to be like her?

Kyler snickers when I say, “Being taught the tricks of the trade by her is equivalent to you being given advice by, like, The Eagles.”

“I get it.” He tips his chin toward the living room. “Want to eat in there? I’ll grab us drinks.”

Nodding, I head into the living room and plop down on my usual side of the couch. I hear things rattling from the kitchen and turn as Ky walks in holding two bottles. Soda for me, water for him.

He sets my drink down on the edge of the table so I can reach it, then sits on the cushion opposite. I try not to wonder why he doesn’t sit beside me like normal because then my mind would wander to a lot of different reasons.

It nags at me as we put on a movie we’ve both seen a million times, eating mindlessly with nothing but the film between us. He wants to catch up, but he doesn’t offer any information freely. “How is the song going?” I find myself asking, setting the bowl of picked-through macaroni on my lap.

He makes a face at his food and my lips flutter into a knowing smile. Why he’s torturing himself over dinner is beyond me, but he seems determined to eat it. “It’s been recorded and we’re dropping it next week on all platforms.”

My brows lift. “That’s soon.”

“It’s been about a month since we finished it…” Voice fading, he clears his throat, putting the food down onto the table. “There’s been a lot of meetings about when to release it the past couple of weeks, but Gordy and I won out.”

“How are you going to release?”

His face screws in confusion. “I don’t know. A general post announcing that it’s streaming? I think Gordy has a plan.”

Instantly, I shake my head. “No.”

“No?” Ky’s face twists, but there’s humor in my quick reply.

“No,” I confirm, crossing my legs under me and thinking back to a chapter I just read in my Intro to PR textbook. “If you’re going to surprise release it, there should be something attached in the message that’s more heartfelt than a post-and-ditch. Like a video.”

“We’re not doing a—”

“Not a music video,” I cut him off, rolling my eyes. “Well, not a traditional one. Homemade. If you’re playing it how you did for me, then it should be just as raw and uncut, right? Let me film you singing it like that.”

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