Page 86 of Back to You
“Come with me, Mari. Just for a little while.”
I hate how my chest aches at that, because she’s not mad, she’s not scolding me. She’s just asking me not to disappear.
The tightness in my throat gets worse. I look away, and stare at the coat in her hands.
Then, finally, I nod. “Okay.”
Anna drives with the windows cracked, letting the cool air slip in. The radio hums softly in the background, some song playing low enough that I don’t really hear it.
The streets of Lake City roll by in a blur—small businesses, coffee shops, the bookstore we used to go to when we were kids. She doesn’t tell me where we’re going or try to fill the silence with small talk, and I really appreciate it.
I keep my hands wrapped around the to-go cup, letting the warmth sink into my fingers, focusing on anything but the weight pressing against my chest.
Then…a very familiar beat starts playing. I freeze.
Oh. No.
Anna’s head whips toward me so fast I feel it before I even look.
The opening line comes through the speakers?—
“At first I was afraid… I was petrified…”
I groan. “Anna, no.”
She claps her hands once, throwing an arm across her chest in a dramatic flourish. Then, she starts singing. Loudly, off-key, and with enough energy to shake the entire car.
“Kept thinking I could never live without you by my side?—!”
“Anna, I swear—” I warn, but the corner of my mouth twitches, betraying me despite my best effort to stay serious.
“But then I spent so many nights thinking how you did me wroooong?—”
I press a hand to my face, but I’m already smiling.
“And I grew stroooong?—”
“Please, for the love of God?—”
“AND I LEARNED HOW TO GET ALONG!”
The volume cranks up to full blast. I shake my head, biting my lip to keep from laughing.
Anna smirks. “I see that smile, Mariana.”
I turn toward the window, fighting it. “No, you don’t.”
“Come on, Mari.” She nudges my arm. “This is our song.”
I roll my eyes. Itwasour song. We used to scream-sing it in Anna’s bedroom, standing on her bed like it was a concert stage, using hairbrushes as microphones.
I exhale, shaking my head. “Anna, I’m not…”
“Yes, you are.”
“Anna—”
She throws her head back, absolutely butchering the next line.
