“What’s that?”
“He never talks to you about me.”
“He does.” I pull on my iced tea.
“Not the way I do, and I know it, so let’s drop it, ’K?” She picks her phone back up and begins scrolling and typing, her embarrassment clear. I hate that I did it. What I hate more is that the next time she wants to talk to me about Damon, she might hesitate, or worse, not tell me at all. The whole thing is ironic because all I want to do is confide to her at the top of my lungs…finally confess the secret that’s been bleeding out of my pores for eight straight weeks. Instead, I need her drama—or any drama for that matter—to distract me.
While it may be true that Damon doesn’t talk about her in that context, he’s been looking at her differently more and more over the years, and I want to box his ears for not paying attention to his growing feelings. I don’t relay that to Holly because Damon truly is a wild card. He’s also one of the most lusted after men I’ve ever known, coming a close second to my last lover, who’s currently being worshiped by an increasing number of women on the daily. As I suspected, Easton’s refusal to engage with the media has only made him more alluring to the masses, women especially.
And he’s calling me.
The facts are, I haven’t gone more than a full hour without thinking of him since I left him in that studio.
No matter how much I want to shelve those days we spent together in their respective place, I can’t. Even if I could, he’s everywhere. Videos of his first few concerts on the tour he kicked off weeks ago are not only being spread like wildfire on social media, but his performances are making headlines. So far, the world has done nothing short of worship him since he dropped False Image. A title I find perfectly fitting with the album’s message—defaming fame.
The critics have done nothing but give massive props to the prodigy, who’s broken up the monotony and splashed onto the music scene like a ‘modern-day Elvis,’ Wall Street Journal’s words, not mine.
He’s calling me, and I’m not answering.
The idea that one day he’ll stop is a heavy weight in my gut, but the idea of being anything significant to him while fighting said masses for his attention is beyond comprehension to me.
“Thank God I don’t have to deal with that,” I say aloud.
“Well, aren’t you an asshole.”
I recover quickly. “I mean dating. Does he like me? Does he not like me? Does he have more than one sexual position in his arsenal? Is he worth the price of admission?”
Holly laughs as I roll my eyes exaggeratedly.
“If anyone needs to get back on a horse other than Percy, missionary or not, it’s you. It’s been, what, over a year since you broke up with Carson?”
“Who?” I taunt.
She glowers at me. “Exactly, but still.”
“I’m in no hurry. I’m not saying this shop is closed, but I’m definitely not going to spread myself thin trying to find a decent date.”
“As if you would have to. Girl, do you know how pretty you are? Your summer body is on point this year, bae. Look at you, all ripped and tan.”
True to my nature, I’ve been using the ache in the weeks that have followed Seattle to fuel me and have been hitting the gym harder than ever.
“Forget men,” I declare, gripping her hand and squeezing. “Forget sex, and let’s just date each other.”
“That’s called friendship,” she says. “Sorry, but I need the sex. Are you going to eat this garlic toast?”
“Nope.”
“No bread till September?”
“Yep,” I confirm with a chin dip.
She confiscates my toast, eyeing the clock on her phone. “Shit. Damon says raincheck. Between you two workaholics, I’ll never get a weekend away. I need new friends.”
“Good luck finding better,” I taunt.
“True. I have to run.” She stands before bending to kiss my cheek, smacking her lips exaggeratedly. Feigning disgust, I wipe it with my napkin as she exits the patio and power walks towards her Audi, giving me her signature diva farewell wave. “Don’t make any plans for tomorrow. I’ll dig around and see if I can find something for us to get into.”
“’K. Love you.”
“You too.”
Sipping the last of my tea, I watch her pull away. Holly is by far one of the biggest blessings in my life. We’ve been through it all, from diapers to every part of puberty-driven awkward adolescence and so forth. Even though she’s the perfect ride or die—and I know I can trust her with anything—I’ve kept my time with Easton completely to myself. Because of that, I’ve painstakingly fought through the ache and lingering desire alone.