Midnight Sun(36)

I stop and take his hand. How can I express how he’s changed everything for me, from the fact that I never believed a guy could like me because of my disease to what I now believe my future could hold for me? I fumble around in my mind, trying to find the right words. Finally, I settle for a simple “Thank you.”

Charlie gives me this adorable curious puppy look, all floppy hair and playful eyes. It’s like he knows what I’m thinking even though he can’t possibly. “You’re welcome,” he says. “Now for your turn.”

He gently places my guitar case on the ground and unlocks those finicky latches. Then he positions it perfectly to catch coins and hands me my guitar. I step back, holding up my hands in front of me.

“What? No. No way.”

“You owe me a song,” Charlie tells me.

I’m shaking my head. “I can’t do that… here.” This isn’t tiny Purdue, Washington, this is big-city Seattle. I’m not prepared to debut one of my songs here. Not tonight. Not yet.

“Yes, you can!” Charlie encourages me. “Live shows are the best! You said so yourself!”

“Are you hungry?” I say, patting my stomach. “I’m hungry, and you’re always hungry and remember all those awesome cafés we saw back there?”

“Katie,” Charlie says. He sounds so serious, so sincere, I stop talking. “We can either be in a new city under the stars and you don’t play me a song, or we can keep making this the best night of our lives.”

He shrugs. He’s so freaking cute. I feel my resolve melting. What he’s given me is so much more than a three-minute song. Singing one for him hardly makes a dent in what I owe him after tonight.

“It’s up to you,” he tells me. “Don’t worry about anything else. This isn’t about what I or anyone else wants. It’s about what you want right now.”

What I want to do is make this incredible guy happy. So I give in. I reach for my guitar and sling the strap over my shoulder. Charlie’s entire face lights up.

I give the strings a few good strums. When I look up from my guitar, Charlie’s got his phone pointed right at me. He’s ready to record this moment so it’s captured forever. I get instantly self-conscious and my nerves kick in.

“Charlie, don’t—”

He smirks and gestures to the nonexistent crowd behind him. It’s basically one weird hairy dude who stopped to tie his shoe. “We’re waiting!”

I see that he’s right; there’s nothing to lose here. Not even my dignity. It’s just Charlie and me. There’s nothing we can’t do together.

So I start strumming some chords, softly at first. I’m still feeling a little unsure of myself. But then it’s like muscle memory takes over, and I forget that Charlie’s recording me. I’m imagining what it would have been like to be onstage tonight instead of in the crowd staring up in awe at the band. The nervous embarrassment exits my body, and in its place comes a supreme confidence in my abilities.

I close my eyes and sing my latest creation, the one I played for Morgan the other night. Once she finally got over telling me about Garver and paid attention, she really liked it and thought it was the best one yet. I hope she’s not mad at me anymore. I really need to tell her I’m sorry when I get home. I sing my heart out—for Charlie, for Morgan, for my dad, but most of all for me.

When I open my eyes again, I see Charlie grinning from behind his phone. He’s like my good luck charm. The only thing I’ll ever need to succeed.

I strum the last chord and realize Charlie’s not the only person who liked my song. There’s a whole crowd of people I didn’t even realize were there, clapping and cheering wildly for me. And while my fans nowhere near amount to the people in the warehouse at the secret pop-up concert tonight, I get a good taste of what it’s like to have my music appreciated by more than just my dad, Fred, and Morgan.

I like it. I love it. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m going to crave a lot more of this in the future.

Charlie throws his arm around a guy who is still clapping after almost everyone else has stopped.

“YEAH! Come on! Give it up for Katie! WOOOOOOOO!”

He shakes the guy’s shoulders like their team has just won the World Series. The guy gives Charlie a weird look, drops a few bucks into my guitar case, and walks off.

Charlie smiles at me. And I can’t stop smiling back.





17

The train ride back is uneventful but fully awesome. Which is to say we make out the entire time. No one else is in the car, no one is watching us, and we take full advantage of our solitude.

When we get back to Purdue—which seems even tinier now that I’ve experienced Seattle—I’m just not ready for the night to end. I text my dad like I promised.

Back in Purdue. Home soon.

Good night? he texts back.

The absolute best.

Stay out as long as you want, Peanut. It’s true, you’re not a child anymore. I trust you to stay safe and take care of yourself. Charlie is a lucky guy.

Thanks, I text back, happy tears filling my eyes. You have no idea how much that means to me.

We get in Charlie’s truck and start to drive. I put my phone on do not disturb and sign out of Find My iPhone, asserting my newfound independence and reveling in my dad’s hard-earned trust.