In Your Dreams (Falling #4)(60)
When I search for her again, a minute later, Murphy has moved to the tight area behind the bar where she’s filling out something on a clipboard. It’s probably the list to perform next week. Bear-claw is overly interested, leaning over the bar and watching her write, and before my self-discipline kicks in, I walk over there with the intent of pressing my palm against his forehead to shove his face away.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” her theater friend slurs. “In the flesh!”
I grin at her, tight-lipped, and pull my beanie from my head, tucking it in my back pocket before running my hand through my hair and stretching my palm out to shake hers. She stumbles into me and her hand grabs at my chest in that familiar way I’ve come to know at the end of the night in a club or bar. Only this time, I wish it were the hand of the girl watching me with disgusted eyes. And I wish it weren’t a bar at all, but rather her bedroom, while on her floor, listening to her favorite records.
“Good to see you,” I say, because while I recognize her, I don’t remember her name either.
“That’s Sam,” Murphy says, her eyes set on the notepad she’s still writing on. “You recognized her tits, remember?”
Her eyes shut instantly and she sets down the pen, her fingers flexing for a brief second before turning away. I think even she’s surprised she said that. Good on her, though, because there’s really no response for me to give. No, I didn’t recognize her tits comes to mind, but only for an amusing second.
“Yeah, Sam. I remember,” I lie. That was the wrong thing to say, because Murphy spins and gives me a sharp glare the second I do.
“I mean, from the theater photos…I saw your picture.” I try to repair the damage, but it doesn’t matter—Murphy’s moved on, working to pack up her guitar and fend off the banal conversation from the bear-claw lips hovering over her.
“Murphy says you’re helping her get a record deal?” Sam asks, her hands flirty, touching my collar and arm. I take a step away so she’s closer to the guy she came with and begins touching him instead.
“Well, that’s what he says, but…we’ll see,” Murphy hums, her tone doubtful as she snaps the clasps shut on her case and pulls the strap along with her bag over her shoulder. “Sam…and friends,” she grimaces, “thanks for coming. I’ve got an early morning, so…”
“Awwww, I thought you were coming out with us. Party bus!” Sam says, hopping on her toes. It’s amazing to me how this behavior is so appealing when I’m lit.
“Sam,” Murphy says, squaring her shoulders with her liquid-happy friend. “It’s not a bus, dear. It’s a limo—and it’s a gross one at that. And you know I am not the party girl.”
“I know, but…” her friend whines.
“I love you. I’ll see you for lunch this week,” Murphy says, tilting her head forward. The exchange is sweet, and I’m envious as she glances at me and furrows her brow before turning and marching right through the back door to her car.
“Murph, hey…wait,” I call after her. She isn’t running, but she’s not wasting any time, either. “Murph…”
She turns and offers a tight-lipped, very fake smile. It catches me off guard so I stare at her for a second, my lips parted and my heart surprised at the way it feels. My eyes fall closed and my head tips forward with a breath of a smile.
“I’m sorry. You’re just…you’re kind of all fired up, and it caught me off guard,” I say, cocking an eyebrow as I glance up to her.
She doesn’t look at me—instead only fidgeting with her keys and chewing at her lip. The longer it takes for her to find her words, to look up at me and answer, the more I realize just how much damage I’ve done. I forced her to play pretend, and she has been trapped in that role ever since. I need to leave this girl alone, but I need to make it right first.
“Lane really liked your com…your company today,” she says, her gaze still at her own feet.
A legit smile hits my lips at the memory of earlier, before pieces started falling into place. I swallow while I think of what to say, a way to answer that conveys exactly what today was for me, a way that say’s I’m sorry, and means it for everything—all of the things.
“I heard from John…” I say instead, because that’s what I can give her.
I can give her her dream.
Her expression changes, and her hands stop twisting as she pulls her lips into her mouth, sucking and holding her breath. She brings her eyes to mine, ready for disappointment.
No, Murphy. I wouldn’t come out here tonight to disappoint you. I’m never going to disappoint you again.
“Think you can get a sub for your class tomorrow? He likes to sign contracts in the morning…when his lawyer is in…and…”
“Shut up,” she interrupts, her bottom lip jutted out, her eyebrows rising slowly, realization sinking in. I can’t help but smile at her happiness.
“He loved it,” I say.
“Shut up,” she says again, this time a small tickle of a laugh squeezing through. Her lips begin to curve and the light in her grays comes alive as her hand cups her mouth.
“I will…in a minute,” I laugh. She steps forward and pushes the center of my chest, shoving me off balance. I laugh and catch her hand, but let her fingers slide through mine quickly because that’s not what this moment is about.