Page 99 of Beneath Cherry Blossom Memories

Devon throws up somewhere nearby, the smell making my stomach roll. I hold my head up because it wants to connect with my chest. Kelly is flying around the hotel looking for something to catch puke. I sag against the bed, the burps coming in fast and aggressive. And that’s when Jorge gasps, appearing before me.

“Don’t tell.”

“Huh?” I blink at him, and there are three of him.

“DON’T TELL HIM. I’m saving myself.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Kelly says, stuffing a strange vase under Devon’s face.

I don’t remember a damn thing past that.

After our drunken escapade and group vomit session two nights ago, which Kelly accidentally recorded because she’d forgotten to turn off her camera while helping Devon, we decided as a group not to drink for the rest of the tour.

Apparently, European alcohol wasn’t something we could handle. I’m still feeling the lingering effects of that hangover. We all agreed we played like shit last night, so we rallied earlier to make sure to make up for it.

Now, we’re back at the hotel.

Jorge, Kelly, and I are holed up in one room while Devon and Michael share the other. I just got out of the shower, so Jorge darts into the bathroom to take his. Kelly is already in bed, earplugs in her ears and an eyemask over her eyes. I smile over at her. Bored but not ready for bed, I grab my phone off the charger. I had to buy a fancy charger port just for this tour because, apparently, the damn electric outlets are different.

I click the power button and freeze.

I have a new notification.

My heart pounds in my chest, my lungs squeezing to push air in and out. I wet my lips, fingers shaking as I unlock the screen. Fuck. I’m afraid to look. It’s a text. It’s early back home, I think around 6 or 7 am. Swallowing hard and slowly dragging down the notification screen, I gasp when I see the name.Eli.

“Oh my god,” I breathe, opening it immediately. Like someone pressed play on a paused movie, it all rushes in as I read his text.

Eli: I just got my phone back. And I just read all 78 of your texts.

Another comes in not a second later.

It’s hard here. I wish I could say I’m healed, but I’m just not. I honestly don’t know how long they will make me stay. But I did get to have my phone back—once a week, for an hour. I miss you, too.

I cover my mouth, tears instantly squirting free because he’s doing it. He’s fuckingdoing it.I can tell by the open way he’s texting that he’s not lying to me. I do not bother replying via text; I call him, sneaking onto the little balcony for privacy.

He answers immediately. “Phoenix.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” I croak.

“Fuck, don’t cry. I’m already right there.”

“It’s okay. How…how are you feeling? Are they treating you okay?”

A watery laugh escapes him. “It’s not the greatest. But it’s alright. I just—” He stops abruptly, and I hear his shaky inhale.

“Can I video call you?” I blurt.

“Yeah…yeah. I’m…I’m in the rec area, but yeah.”

I hang up and video call him.

Fuck, as soon as I see his face on the screen, I do sob. He looks good. Better. Skin bright and plump. Clean shaven. His hair is pulled back in that knot he wears, and he’s missing his signature liprings, but fuck, he’s gorgeous.

I want to crawl through my phone and touch him.

“Hi,” he says sweetly, soaking me in like I am.

“Hi.”

---