Page 109 of Cadence
I’m out of there before he can say another word, darting through the foyer and out to my car. I slide into the driver’s seat, click my seatbelt, and start the ignition as my phone connects to the speaker system automatically.
“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” I mutter, tapping the wheel as I back out of the space.
“Hey!” Paige’s voice fills the car, and I exhale, some of the embarrassment ebbing away.
“Okay, before you say anything, I did something really stupid.”
“What kind of stupid?” She sounds amused. I picture her in her apartment in New York, papers scattered across her bed, writing some song that’ll no doubt be on the charts as soon as it’s released.
“I tried to kiss him.”
Silence.
“Paige?”
“Oh. My. God.”
“I know.” A groan turns into a laugh, the sound caught between hysterical and horrified. “He was being all focused and kind and hot and I just sort of went for it.”
“Wait, you actually kissed him?” Paige asks, and I hear the rustle as she shifts around.
“Attempted. It lasted all of point-three seconds before he shut it down.” I wince to myself, flicking on my indicator. “God, I’m such a dumbass.”
“Oh my god, Pen.”
“I know, it’s fine. We’re fine. He was nice about it, and now I get to live with the memory of my fuckup every time I go to work.”
“And you’re still not going to tell me who he is?” she teases, prying like always.
“God, no,” I say, voice too high. “If he were into me, then yeah, maybe. But I don’t need my little sister knowing the name of the guy who turned me down. That’s just embarrassing.”
A sharp pull tugs in my chest, and I wince, shifting in my seat. It’s probably the adrenaline comedown, or just the humiliation finally hitting its peak. I press my heel to my ribs, trying to ease the pressure.
“Boo, you suck.”
“Whatever.” I chuckle, breathing through the twinge. “Are you coming home this weekend?”
“You know it,” she says, and I can practically hear her smile. “I’ve got so many new songs to show you.”
“You need to be on stage, girl,” I say, sounding like a broken record. “What are you so afraid of? Why won’t you do something that will make you happy?”
“I am happy,” she protests.
“Really?” I grit out, grimacing. “You enjoy being someone else’s footnote?”
“Yeah…”
It’s a lie, but I don’t push further.
Twisting my body to shake off the ache, I grip the steering wheel, needing to get off the phone. “Listen, I gotta go. Call me after class tomorrow?”
“Yup. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
I hang up, still grinning, her voice warming me from the inside out.
But the smile barely lasts a breath as the pressure in my chest blooms, tight and sharp and hard, like someone’s driving a fist straight through my ribs. My fingers tighten on the wheel, the road ahead starting to swim in my vision. I blink hard, trying to clear it, but it doesn’t help. If anything, it gets worse.
