Page 65 of Where the Little Birds Go (Little Bird Duet 1)

He smacks his friends and says we’re leaving, then grabs his things and gestures for me to head toward the back doors. “You okay?”

Shrugging, I give him an unsure smile. “I will be. It’s got to be hard for him.”

His scoff has me slowing my steps to look at him. “Yeah, dude looked like he’s having a miserable time right now.”

I sigh. “I meant balancing everything. He’s been stressed. His grades haven’t been great, so he’s trying to get them up that way his mom won’t pull him out of the movie—”

“Maybe she should.”

My brows furrow. “Should what?”

“Maybe he should quit the movie then.”

My head shake is genuine. “He’s really good, Zach. What he did tonight sucks for everyone in that auditorium, but you should see him get into character. He loves working on the movie. You can tell he’s meant for it.”

“What about you?”

I don’t say anything.

The cold air hits my face when we swing the doors open and start toward the packed parking lot. “I’m okay. Really. We sort of talked about this kind of thing. He told me he didn’t want me thinking I was being ignored.”

Now he’s silent.

“He’s not ignoring me,” I defend. I think about the unanswered texts and calls, clicking my tongue and trying to push the thought away. “I want him to be happy and act.”

“Whatever,” he grumbles, pulling out his keys and unlocking his car. The blue sedan lights up in the middle of the lot. “You’re my friend, Kinley. I just want to make sure you’re okay. We could go do something if you want. Get food.”

Disappointment settles over me. “I think I’ll just head home and get ahead on some homework. Maybe get some writing done.”

When we’re buckled in, he shifts his body toward me and studies me skeptically. “You’re a good person, you know that? Don’t let that stop you from raising hell when it’s necessary.”

I make a face. “It isn’t, though.”

His eyes tell me, isn’t it?

There’s something hitting my window. When I peel myself up from my toasty sheets, I squint at the time on my alarm and then faceplant back into unconsciousness. Except something hard hits my window again.

Nearly falling off the bed when my foot gets caught in the throw blanket, I stumble over to the window in question and move the curtain slightly to see what’s going on. The streetlight outside illuminates the wet pavement from a steady rain that must have started after I fell asleep around nine.

Mom and Dad thought my plans were cancelled because I was sick. My sluggishness certainly helped my case. Instead of staying up and torturing myself with the story I'm writing about Ryker and Beck, I turned off my phone and slid into bed. I fell asleep watching a documentary on National Geographic.

There’s just enough light to see Corbin standing below. He waves his phone around and points to it. I debate on being petty and closing the curtain and curling back in bed. Instead, I turn my phone on and notice the slew of texts and missed calls and voicemails all from him.

His name pops up on the screen again in an oncoming call. My finger hovers over the red decline button, but I want to hear what his excuse is.

“I’m an asshole,” he says quickly.

No argument there.

“I swear I didn’t forget,” he continues. “I kept telling them I had to go, but the entire cast got invited out to get to know each other better since we’re going to start filming next week. They reserved a table at some fancy restaurant, and I didn’t think I could say no. I’m the youngest and don’t want them thinking I have any say when I know I don’t.”

He speaks so rapidly that he has to suck in deep breath when he’s finished. I think about what he says and know it’s reasonable. If I were in his shoes I wouldn’t want to say no either. Plus, it’s good to create a relationship with co-workers to some degree.

“I didn’t forget. Promise.”

The small breath I inhale eases some of the strain on my lungs. “I understand. But I’m not the only one who you need to apologize to.”

His voice is quiet. “I know. Do your parents hate me? They have a right to. Mom told me I’d need to kiss a lot of ass to make this up to you, and—”

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