Page 83 of Hooked
A little of the headache lifted. She tapped the Answer button. “Hey.”
“Hey. You on your way home?”
“Mm-hmm.” She leaned against the window, glad for the morning sun. “Train’s pretty quiet.”
“Good. You sound tired.”
“I didn’t sleep great.”
Silence on the other side. “You said the interview went really well.”
“It did. They invited me to a company barbecue today actually. But I told them I had to head back.”
“We could have covered for you.”
“I wouldn’t want to disappoint the kids.” She’d been having too much fun reading their newest book,When the Stars Go Blue. The protagonist was a talented dancer struggling with hard choices, first love, and the future. The parallels were hitting a little close to home. “And there’s the dance performance outside the theater. Some of the girls want to go to that, and Emmie can’t leave the shop on art walk night.”
“Okay. So what’s the headache for?”
I miss you. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. You’re messing everything up by being wonderful. Also, my parents are assholes.“Probably just tired.” She thought about Jeremy. “And probably not drinking enough water.”
“I told you.” Jeremy told everyone to drink more water. “Coffee doesn’t count. The most common cause of headaches is not drinking enough water. You have your bottle with you?”
She smiled. “Yeah.”
“Drink it all. And text me when you get to Fresno. I’ll meet you at the station.”
“Okay. I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”
“See you.”
As soon as she put her phone down, the headache returned.
Great. She was suffering from Jeremy deprivation.
Fuck my life.
Tayla walked downto the theater with eight fourteen- to sixteen-year-old girls, all of them jumping up and down with excitement to see the dance team from Fresno perform in front of the old Fox Theater. Like many other towns in Central California, Metlin had an old art deco–era theater that used to be for movies. Now it hosted concerts, the local symphony, and a few big-name artists that passed through.
Main Street was teeming with artists and crafters showing their stuff, street musicians performing on each corner, and food vendors pushing carts down the center of the street, which had been cordoned off for six blocks.
Once a month, Metlin turned into the place to be in the valley. Street artists exhibited at an old warehouse on 7th Avenue, shops stayed open late, and the whole town and the surrounding area turned up for the party.
Tayla and Jeremy walked with the girls to the front of the theater where the modern ballet company from Fresno would be performing in a few minutes. They were drinking bubble tea from the Thai restaurant and shepherding the girls, who were giggling and walking in a tight pack.
“Do you think they’re talking about us?” Jeremy whispered loudly.
The girls giggled and stole glances over their shoulders.
Tayla shook her head, but she was smiling. “Since you insisted on holding my hand, I think they probably are.”
“I can’t help it. You’re cute and short. I might lose you in a crowd.”
“In Metlin?”
“Have you seen how many people came tonight?”
Itwaspretty crowded. The art walk grew every month, but this month must have broken records. “You think it’s the dancers?”
