Shadows linger in every corner inside of the bar, with only a hint of light coming from the empty stage and a glassed-in area at the back of the room. By the stage, tiny white lights hang over silver and blue curtains. I think they’re going for an outer space vibe, if outer space looked a little bit like the 1970s and was surrounded by silver and blue curtains. Not so many points for the other-worldly experience, but I’m probably just picky about that. I know what other-worldly is like.

  I see Riley watching me as we walk farther into bar. Probably wondering if this is my style, I think.

  You think wrong. It’s Noah’s voice that I hear. Wonderful. I have a chaperone. Leave it to him to read and answer my thoughts right now.

  I didn’t exactly invite you along on my dat— I stop before I complete the word in my mind and correct myself. I didn’t invite you to come with us.

  You mean on your date with Riley. I can tell Noah is trying hard not to laugh.

  It’s not a date.

  That’s not what he thinks. And just so you’re clear, he’s watching you now because it matters to him that you have a good time tonight.

  “Do you want something to drink?” Riley waves a hand in front of my face when I don’t answer. I swat it away.

  “Yeah. The bottle of scotch back there will do.” I jerk my chin toward the bartender. I manage to keep a straight face for about all of two seconds until I hear Riley laugh.

  “I’d like to see what would happen after a few shots of that,” he comments.

  “Oh would you?” I challenge him. “Any special reason?” I’m baiting him, but somehow I can’t help myself.

  Hints of pink creep into Riley’s cheeks and I choke back a laugh. As his face gets brighter, I feel a whoosh of energy coming at me in a wave. It makes me a little dizzy and I wonder what it is, until I focus in on my energy and see the intense dance his energy is having with mine. Little gold and pink sparks pop up in the space where our energy meets. This is even stronger than it was a few minutes ago.

  He clears his throat. “I just meant that you’ll probably be a lightweight, given how tiny you are.” He stares straight ahead at the bar, by all appearances examining the bottles on the shelves that line the back wall. I have a feeling that he can’t look at me.

  “Any particular train of thought I should follow about what me being a lightweight would mean?” If I could, I’d do a double-take at myself. Since when do I flirt? That’s something Anna did.

  This is a bad idea, I remind myself. I wait for Noah to chime in and tell me this is exactly what I’m supposed to be doing, but he’s suspiciously silent.

  “Choose your own adventure,” Riley tells me. A wicked grin lights up his face for just a second, but then he seems to think about what he’s saying and the grin disappears. Great. He clearly needs to stop thinking.

  “What does that mean?” I ask. He’s looking at the bottles behind the bar again, though, and pretends not to hear me. Hmm. Let’s try something else. “You’re probably right, you know.”

  That grabs his attention. “I’m right about something?”

  “Don’t let it go to your head. Even broken clocks are right twice a day.”

  “That sounds a little more like the Cassidy I know. So what’ll it be?”

  “Soda water with lemon.”

  “Let’s make that two,” he says. He lets go of my hand and steps up to the bar. I stay rooted in place, watching him talk to the bartender. Our energy is still connected but it feels a little less intense with his hand no longer holding mine. I know that it’s all in my mind, though, because I can see how strongly our energy is now woven together. It stays as strong as it was when we were holding hands, and it might even be getting stronger.

  I walk up beside him at the bar just as he pulls his phone out from his jacket pocket and starts to type. I can’t tell if he even notices that I’m beside him again. I could pull out my phone and do the same, but I’m not really sure who I’d text. Not knowing what else to do, I pretend to look around the bar again. I’m awkward at the best of times, but being on a date seems to bring this to a completely new level.

  Told you so. There’s Noah again.

  Not a date, I correct myself.

  Whatever you say, he tells me, and he sounds more than amused. Curse him.

  It takes about thirty more seconds to run out of things to look at, so I turn my head back to Riley. He notices me this time and looks up from his phone.

  “I’m just texting John to tell him we’re here.”

  I nod, silently thanking the bartender when he appears in front of us and sets two glasses of soda water down on top of the counter. Riley pulls his wallet out from his back pocket and puts a few bills down on the counter. I wonder if I should be offering to pay for my drink, or the tip at least, since this isn’t a date — is it?

  Not a word, Noah, I think, before he can chime in with his opinion again.

  Riley’s fingers brush against mine and I nearly jump at the little tingles of energy when he takes my hand. It’s a good thing my glass of soda water is still on top of the bar, since I probably would have dropped it if I’d been holding it.

  Breathe, I remind myself, focusing on getting air in and out of my lungs.

  “Want to sit down at a table?” Riley asks. “I think John’s band is on second, so we have a while.”

  I nod, not trusting my voice quite yet. I’m steady enough to pick up my glass from the counter, though, and to walk the few steps it takes to get to a table.

  “When you go out with me, we go out in style,” he smirks, examining the top of his stool before sitting down. I check my stool before sitting, too.

  “This is a lot like a place in Boston where I used to go to see bands play.” I raise the straw in my glass to my lips and take a drink.

  “Did you go to a lot of shows when you lived there?”

  “Only when I could find a way to sneak out of my aunt and uncle’s house without them catching on to where I was going. My aunt wasn’t a fan of me going to any concerts that weren’t someone’s piano recital or a night at the opera.”

  “Are you sure she wasn’t just concerned about you being out somewhere that wasn’t safe?”

  I shake my head. “If it was anyone but my aunt, I might agree with you.” I take another drink, sucking the soda water through my straw a little too quickly. Bubbles fizz in my mouth, making my eyes water. I try not to cough.

  “I’ll learn how to drink one of these days,” I manage to sputter, wiping my eyes.

  “I’m trying to picture you with a tequila shot,” he says. Ah, we’re back to this. That didn’t take long.

  “It would probably be a disaster,” I tell him. He looks like he wants to disagree, and I can see mischief in the golden flecks in his eyes, but he takes my lead and veers away from where I think he was going with that.

  “Did you like it in Boston?” he asks, wrapping his fingers around his glass.

  “It was okay,” I answer. “I spent most of my life there, so mostly it was just familiar.” I stir the ice cubes in my glass with my straw. “Have you ever been out there?”

  “Where, Boston?”

  “Boston, or the northeast.”

  “New York City is about it,” he replies. “I went out there in senior year, thinking I might go to college there. I wanted to see what it was all about.”

  “Did your parents take you?”

  He shakes his head. “No. I went with...” His voice trails off, and I don’t know if he realizes that he’s stopped mid-sentence or that he has a really strange look on his face. A few moments pass before he shakes himself out of it and starts talking again. “I went with a good friend,” he finishes, looking down at his glass.

  He went to New York with Amanda. It doesn’t take a genius to figure that out. Leave it to me to ask the ultimate mood-killing question. Not that there is a mood, or is there?

  Shut it, Noah, I think, before my chaperone can chime in. He does as he’s told.

  I look down at my glass, too, studying the ice cubes. There are probably tons of questions I could ask Riley right now to get him to stop thinking about Amanda, but not a single one comes to mind. I move my eyes away from the ice cubes and glance at the floor.

  There’s a white feather on the ground beside my stool — the second one I’ve seen tonight. My hand shoots out to grip the side of the table. I feel Riley’s hand on my back, trying to steady me.

  “Careful of these stools,” he warns. “They’re a little wobbly.”

  He thinks I’m gripping the table because I’m off-balance. I tear my eyes away from the feather and give him a grateful smile.

  “Thanks,” I say. “Now what was that about not being a knight in shining armor?”

  “Guess I should watch myself,” he replies, but I can see his lips curving upward. His hand is still on my back, and I can tell that we both realize it at the same time. He moves his hand away and lets it drop to his side. I take my straw between my fingers and stir the ice cubes in my glass again, watching them spin around in circles.

  When I look up, I see someone watching us from across the room. He looks vaguely familiar. He starts walking toward us a second later.

  “Riley, my man,” he calls out as he gets closer. Riley turns around.

  “Hey, man.” This must be John, and now I know that where I’ve seen him before is on a stage in Boston. I like him already for his excellent timing.

  The guy reaches his hand across the table. “Hi, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m John.”

  “Cassidy,” I say, shaking his hand. “I’ve seen you play once before, in Boston.”

  “Boston, huh?” he asks. I nod. “What brings you to L.A.? Are you visiting Riley?” He shoots Riley a look that plainly accuses him of keeping some sort of secret from him. Riley keeps his eyes on me.

  “No, I moved out here a few weeks ago. We met when I was out one night.”

  The look on John’s face doesn’t change, but Riley still isn’t looking at him. Finally, John turns back to me.

  “It’s great to meet you, Cassidy,” he says, just as I hear a dinging sound. John reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his phone. He reads something on the screen, then looks up at us. “If you guys will excuse me for a moment, looks like I forgot to put someone on the list. I’ll let you guys get back to your date.”

  There’s that word again. It’s contagious or something, I swear. I look at Riley in time to see his face flush again, but neither of us makes any mention of the d-word. A cymbal crashes from the stage, and both of us turn to see the first band getting ready to start.

  “Want to head over there?” He jerks his thumb in the direction of the stage. I nod and pick up my glass from the table.

  We find a place to stand that’s a few rows back and close to the wall. Riley stands behind me, and I feel a now-familiar tingle when his hand comes to rest on my shoulder a few songs into the set. By the time John’s band takes the stage, I’m so close to him that I can feel his chest against my back, his chin brushing the top of my head. Anyone watching us probably thinks we’re a couple.

  I turn around when John’s band finishes, intending to ask Riley if he wants to stick around for whatever band is on next. Some of my hair catches on his chin, though, and is pulled in front of my face. I’m about to bring my hand up to move it away when his fingers reach out, tucking my hair behind my ears. His thumb comes to rest against my jawbone. It’s not a tingle I feel this time, but more like an entire swarm of butterflies in my stomach.

  One day you’re going to kiss me, I think. Or I at least think the words are only in my head until I see the startled look on Riley’s face. I quickly turn my head away from him.

  About a minute passes and neither of us says anything. I chance a quick glance at him. He seems very interested in the empty stage in front of us.

  “I need to use the restroom,” I mumble, sidestepping him and bolting for the back of the club.

  The bathroom is small and crowded with a line of women waiting to use one of the two stalls. I stay there as long as I possibly can. Staring at myself in the mirror while washing my hands, I see that I even look like I’m panicking. I don’t know what I should say when I get back to Riley, so I decide I won’t say anything. I’ll just pretend that those words about him kissing me never came out of my mouth, and he’ll do the same. We’ll go home. It will be that simple, because it has to be.

  After I finish drying my hands, I squeeze past the line of women inside the door and head back to Riley. He’s still standing where I left him in front of the stage.

  “You just missed John,” he tells me, once I’m beside him. “He was here for a few minutes, but then he had to go settle up with the club owner.”

  “Okay.” It’s the only intelligible word I can get out of my mouth. I twist my hands together. I’d give almost anything for pockets to jam them into right now. So much for playing it cool and acting normal.

  “Ready to go?” he asks.

  “Lead the way,” I reply. Three words are better than one, so that’s progress at least.

  Riley doesn’t say much on the short walk to his car, and neither do I. He opens the passenger door for me and I’m about to get in, when he puts a hand on my shoulder and stops me. I should have known I wouldn’t be getting off that easily. I turn around to face him, since I know I don’t really have a choice.

  He keeps his hand on my shoulder. “You were right, you know.” His voice is so quiet that I’m barely able to hear him.

  “About what?”

  “That one day, I’m going to kiss you.” His thumb brushes against my cheek and he smiles, but I can see sadness in his eyes and in his energy. I try to smile back but find myself frozen in place until his hands drop to his sides.

  I get into the car. I’m having trouble getting words to move past the lump that’s rising in my throat. It doesn’t matter, though, because once Riley closes my door and walks around the front of the car, it’s like it never happened. As soon as he’s behind the wheel, he reaches for the volume button on the car stereo and any thoughts I might have had are drowned out by a band I don’t know. He sings along with the unfamiliar songs for the entire drive to my house.

  By the time we pull into my driveway, I’m almost convinced that what happened at The Satellite took place only in my imagination. Riley certainly gives no hints that he’s given it another thought since we started driving, and that’s fine by me. He shifts the car into park and gets out, coming around to open my door for me. I’m left with only a quick hug before he tells me goodnight and gets back into the car. I don’t know if he stays to watch me walk up the driveway, because I don’t look back.

  It takes me three tries to slide my key into the lock on my front door before it finally goes in. As I fumble with turning the doorknob, I realize just how much I wish that one day had been tonight.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “What is wrong with me?”

  I kick my shoes into a corner in the foyer and drop my purse on the floor. The question repeats over and over again in my mind as I walk into the living room and collapse onto the sofa. Letting Riley get attached to me is a disastrous idea on its own, seeing as I’m going to up and die on him in three weeks. It would be bad enough to leave it at that, but no, I have to go and let myself fall for him, too. And not just the silent, pine-from-afar-crush kind of falling for him. Oh no. I have to blurt out something that tells him exactly what I’m feeling, because that’s going to make it easier when I’m gone.

  “I am beyond hope,” I mutter. The way my words bounce along the walls, it’s as though the room agrees with me. Terrific.

  I’m also tired. No, make that exhausted. Scratch that. Depleted. I am entirely depleted and having a hard time believing this isn’t all some horrible mistake. I let my eyes close and lean my head against a throw pillow on the sofa.

  “None of this is a mistake.”

  My eyes pop open when I hear Noah’s voice. He’s sitting in the antique armchair in the corner, holding his fedora in his hands and fighting a smile. He’s smiling? Not cool.

  “I don’t remember inviting you to my pity party.” I sit up again, grabbing the throw pillow and hugging it close to my chest.

  “I don’t recall it being acceptable for a higher being to have one,” he says.

  “If you’re looking for a higher being, she’s lost somewhere in the middle of a complete catastrophe.”

  He sets his fedora down on the table beside the armchair. “What makes you think that?”

  There’s nothing else to think. I’m falling for Riley and he knows it. It’s hard enough for me to admit it to myself, let alone Noah, and I can’t quite get the words to form on my lips. I don’t need to, though. Noah is reading my thoughts.

  “Why is that a bad thing?” he asks. “It’s good for you to open yourself up and feel again. You know as well as I do that it’s been a long time.”

  “Because he knows,” I answer. If I hold the throw pillow any tighter, I’ll probably rip it open.

  “And?” He tilts his head to the side, watching me. I feel like I’m being examined under a magnifying glass. I have to look away.

  “I think he might feel the same way.” I barely hear myself speak.

  The crinkle in Noah’s forehead tells me that he’s thinking about something. I can only hope he’s coming up with a solution for this spectacular mess.

  “I can’t see how any of this is bad,” he says after a minute.

  “You’re joking, right?” I ask.

  “Not at all.”

  I draw in a breath, trying to hold it the way Amarleen has us do in class when she wants us to relax. It doesn’t work. My mind is reeling, and I can’t figure out what Noah doesn’t understand. I focus my eyes on him.

  “My time here ends very soon, and I’m letting him get attached to me. How is that not a mistake?”

 

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