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“I think everyone would rather move on. But your past changes the way that you approach the rest of your life. I think that was the point of the song. And if that’s the case, isn’t it better to know just how it’s doing that?”

“If I agree with you, will you promise not to ask me about my past?”

“Fine.” She finishes her tea. “I guess I should go.”

“No, no. You haven’t heard my favorite song yet.”

Her laughter makes goosebumps break out on my arms.

“That’s fair.”

I pull out my own phone and put on a popular country song about a guy who describes what a bad boyfriend he will be to the girl who’s pursuing him.

“That is not your favorite song!”

“It’s at the top. I like the words. Listen.”

“I know the words. He’s an awful boyfriend. You can’t aspire to that.”

“I don’t. I just like that he’s being honest. He tells the girl the truth, and she can take him or leave him. I wish everyone was that honest.”

She averts her eyes. “Yeah. I guess. But I also think that if you’re not going to make an effort, you should just say no and not bother half-assing it.”

I hadn’t thought of it that way. “You’re not wrong.” With fake outrage, I say, “Not only are you forcing me to listen to Georgina, you’re ruining my favorite song.”

“What do you think about this one?”

We spend the next half hour just listening to music and talking. It reminds me of that part in the Georgina song where she says that she won’t be able to be as open in her next relationship. I feel as if Nina and I are having a deep, important conversation, but we’re veiling it behind music. Like we’re not daring to be open enough to come right out and say what we think. We need a buffer to relate to people.

When we call it a night, I walk her back to the hotel.

“Thank you for tonight,” she says when we arrive in front of the hotel doors.

“It was fun,” I say.

She waves and turns to leave.

“I’m not working Saturday night,” I blurt out before she disappears inside. “Would you like to go to the Georgina concert together?”

My heart pounds in my ears, and I feel like such an idiot. It doesn’t help that she freezes and takes a long time to answer.

“Um… I, um… I can’t. I promised Amelia that I would go with her.”

Ouch.

I can recognize a rejection from a mile away. “Well then, maybe we’ll see each other there.”

“Yeah, maybe…”

But she looks anywhere but at me. And I’m not sure what happened between the bar and the hotel, but I definitely lost her. Or maybe she was just never interested in me that way.

“It was nice meeting you,” she says, as if trying to console me.

“You too,” I answer with my heart in my stomach.

“Goodnight.”

Chapter Twenty-Four