My sobs are quiet, but excruciating. I can’t see or feel or hear anything but him. He’s all around me and it’s the most frustrating thing ever because I just want him forreal. I want to lie here for as long as it takes until he finds me… But I don’t think that’s possible.
I don’t have any fireworks to blow off this time. Who knows if that would even work again…
Sniffling, I reach for some items on his nightstand. There are a few books stacked up, some comics, and what looks like a sound machine. I snort a sad laugh.
My sweet boy loves his sleep.
I pick up an old iPod. Surprisingly, it still turns on.
Sticking one of the headphones into my ear, I press play on the first song…Home Sweet Homeby Mötley Crüe.
I hug his pillow, listening to the song and bawling like a baby. Pretty embarrassing, but I can’t even find it in myself to care. I miss himtoomuch.
I’d give anything for him to walk in that door right now…
Smiling sadly, I pick up a picture of a younger Lex, maybe twelve or thirteen, with his parents. They’re at a beach, but they’re wearing Christmas sweaters.
Of course, being the East Coast kid I am, I can’t process something like going to the beach in winter, but I have to admit, the weather is pretty nice here right now. It hasn’t dropped below fifty since I arrived in California. I’m not sure if that’s normal, but I have to appreciate it, being homeless and all.
My fingers brush Lex’s smiling face before I flip over the photo. On the back, there’s some handwriting. It’s obviously Lex’s, and I read it out loud…
“Fireworks at Sycamore Cove.”
4 years ago…
“It’s just a little weird…”
“Why is that weird??”
“Because”—Ren cocks a brow at me—“you’re eighteen.”
“Nineteen,” I correct him, and he grins.
“A distinction only an eighteen-year-old would be desperate to make.” He smirks, and I roll my eyes, forking eggs into my mouth. “But my observation stands. Nineteen-year-olds don’t listen to Mötley Crüe. It just doesn’t happen.”
I can’t help but chuckle. “Why the hell not?”
“Because they were popular fifty years ago,” Ren huffs.
“More likefortyyears ago,” I grumble, sort of proving his point.
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” He chuckles. “I know that an extra ten years makes a world of a difference.” I laugh, shaking my head. “I’m just saying, even the older dudes I used to bone didn’t listen to them.”
“That’s not exactly fair.” My head slants. “When they were kids, radio hadn’t even been invented yet.”
I smirk wickedly, and he fakes a laugh. “You’rehilarious, Lexington…” Ren purses his lips, blue eyes getting this twinkle about them that tickles my stomach.
It happens when I think he’s flirting with me, which is often, I might add. It’s no big deal, though. We’re friends, that’s it. He knows I’m not interested in more…I think.
He can flirt all he wants, it’s not going to change anything. Ren’s just an overly flirtatious guy. But it doesn’t matter, because I like talking to him. I’ve really enjoyed having him around these past few months… Regardless of how judgey he can be about my taste in music.
“My dad listened to Mötley Crüe, okay?” I explain, fiddling with my fork. “He loves rock music in general. All of it, but hairbands are his favorite. I remember this one time when I was little”—my voice picks up as I chuckle at the memory—“we were blaringKickstart My Heartand dancing around the room. He was Nikki Sixx and I was Tommy Lee.”
The smile fades when I remember where I am.
I’m never going to see my dad again. These memories are all I have left…
“I can just picture you as a little kid bouncing all over the place.” Ren taps my foot under the table with his, and my eyes jump. “You were probably so cute.”