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We moved from one pop-beat to another. It seemed like most of what he knew was either about heartbreak or love, but a lot of songs were, so that made sense.
When I heard the familiar notes of Follow You Down by Gin Blossoms again, the ache in my chest was back. I tried to keep my tone light as we sang the opening verse together. We reached the chorus, and I was still singing when I realized the music had stopped.
Eli moved the guitar to rest on the ground. “I’m done. Do you need help getting to bed?”
The instant shift in mood was horrible. “No. I might sit up a little longer.”
Eli stood, returned the guitar to its spot, and walked from the room.
No, this wasn’t ending this way. I scrambled to my feet as fast as possible, grabbed my crutches, and hobbled after him. I reached Eli’s room as he was letting the door swing shut, and I stuck one crutch in the way.
“Why did you follow me? Your foot…” Eli opened the door again. “You’re an idiot.”
I met his gaze. “No. I’d be an idiot to let you leave on a note like that one.”
“What do you want from me, Austin?”
Everything. But it was too soon for that. “A second chance at friendship.”
“You’re here. I’m here.”
“Because you blame yourself for this.” I nodded at my cast.
Eli raked his fingers through his hair. “I don’t hate you, but I’ve spent the last fifteen years thinking I should. That doesn’t go away overnight, but I’m trying to let it go.”
It was a good starting point. “I’ll take it.”
16
elijah
WasI willing to admit to myself that the living room sing-in with Austin was fun?
Yes. The memories hurt, but not all of them. I’d been honest with him before I disappeared into my room—I was currently torn between years of pent-up loathing, and realizing my fond memories of the past weren’t all tainted by nostalgia.
Austin had been, and still was, an okay guy.
A guy that once upon a time, I’d thought I was falling in love with.
Over the years I’d convinced myself anything I felt for him back then was because I was dumb and naive and didn’t know any better. The last couple of days were making me question more than a decade of resentment.
On top of that, I still felt bad that Austin was stuck here, hurt and down and out for at least a few months. That was definitely my fault.
Letting my mind race in a loop all night wouldn’t do me any good. I wanted to focus instead on work. What a great opportunity this movie was.
And on Kandace. I wanted to talk to Kandace.
I sent her a quick text.How was your day?
Good. Her answer came through quickly.
And now she was in my head full-force. When she showed up with Austin’s things the other day, she’d looked incredible, and he was frustratingly adorable, hopped up on painkillers, telling her she looked like an angel-raven, and making her blush.
How’s it going there?Her next text buzzed me back to the conversation.How’s Joystick?
And there was my trickle of envy that she’d asked me about him. Though, I might have done the same.He’s good. I’m good.
Good.
