Love Songs & Other Lies(78)
Am I seriously doing this?
I’m going to pursue my music. And I’m not going to be a publicist or manager, or even a songwriter. I’m going to perform. I decide what I deserve, and I deserve to chase my dreams. I deserve not to wake up in a panic every morning. Once I decide I’m leaving, a mental countdown begins in my head, and each minute and hour seems to rush by. At first, I decide I’ll stay until the next show in Chicago. I’ll have a free ride home. Four days. I tell myself that’s how much time I have to spend with Cam, and Logan and Anders, and even Reese—before their lives change. Because there is no doubt that they’ll win this thing. In another six weeks, they’ll officially achieve the rock-god status they’ve been dreaming of. They’ll go back to LA to record their album, and then they’ll go on tour. And that tour will be all about them. The groupies will all be there for them. The fame and the fans, all theirs. It’s only a matter of time—six weeks—before they trade in their normal lives for something that is so much more. The more I think about how much I’ll miss them, the more I think that in four days I’ll lose my resolve.
I need to leave tomorrow.
One more rehearsal, one more night with Cam, one more day of this imaginary life.
CAM
We spend our last night in Cincinnati at a rowdy dance club. Vee and I are back in my bunk, lying pressed up against each other, still in our sweaty clothes. I run my finger along her arm, mesmerized by the bumps that rise up on her skin in its wake. I might be slightly buzzed.
Vee’s voice pulls me out of my trance. “I have to go back.”
“Did you leave something? Give Logan a call.” We left the club early, but Logan stayed. He’s been embracing his official bachelor status. “He can bring it back in the morning.”
“No.” Her voice is tiny and she turns onto her side, so she can look at me. “I need to go back … to Chicago.”
I don’t know what to say. Don’t go.
Is it school? Or her way of ending things? Does she just need space? Maybe we’re moving too fast. We’re practically living together, when you think about it. We’re moving too fast.
“I can’t stay here.” Her words are barely decipherable as she whispers through tears. Her breaths are coming out in tiny gasps.
“Come here.” I shift my arm under her and she tucks herself into me. I kiss her head and run my hand down her arm.
“I can’t just leave my life,” she says. “And I can’t go backward. This thing with us…” She takes a few slow breaths like she’s trying to compose herself. “I forgive you for leaving, Cam. I can even understand why you left. But I can’t keep acting like it never happened, because you never came back.” She takes a deep, ragged breath. “You never came back, and then I popped up in your life again. And if I hadn’t … if I hadn’t ended up on this tour? You’d still be on one side of the country and I’d be on the other. I didn’t know how to find you, but you knew how to find me.” She takes a deep breath and I can feel the warmth of it against my chest. “You could have found me whenever you wanted, and you didn’t. We can’t live in this little bubble and act like it’s moving forward.”
“Vee, please.” I kiss her head again, unable to find the words to tell her exactly how I feel. “I lo—”
“Please don’t.” Her face tilts up toward me, her eyes pleading. “It’s already hard. And I know you do, but it’s not enough.” She smiles at me, in a way that has me expecting her to say, “It’s been fun.” In the last year and a half she’s obviously become more like Dakota than even she realizes. I can’t help but respect her, even though it’s my turn to be left behind now.
I don’t say anything because I know every word I say will just hurt her more. And she’s right; I didn’t come back. After I left that night I never had even one moment of hope that she would end up in my arms like this again. I’m thankful she did, though. Even if it was just for the short time that we shared this bus. Because even if she’s gone forever—off to live her own life—I know there’s no way she can forget the songs we sang, or the words I finally said to her. This may not be the encore I’d hoped for, but at least we’ll always have this one unforgettable summer. I’ll take it.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
NOW
VIRGINIA
It’s the third time I’ve played at Monte’s, a small music venue on the North Side of Chicago. The room is long, narrow and dark, with a small stage at the far end. The walls are covered in vintage newspaper articles, plastered like wallpaper. The first two times I played here I was the first act, going on before a local singer who sang a lot of folksy ballads. But each time the crowds insisted on calling me back up to the stage after her set, since so many fans came late. I have fans. It’s surreal to think that people are actually coming to see me, and after the second show the manager told me I’d be taking the main spot. I knew a huge reason for my popularity was all of the tour coverage, but it still felt amazing and I decided it didn’t matter why they came to see me. Maybe they just wanted to see Dakota Gray, internet sensation. Or Vee Miller, reality TV star. I didn’t care. Either way, I’d just have to win them over with my music.