“People are so gossipy,” she said with a sigh.
“Yeah,” I said, trying to think of something else to say—or at least a way to get gracefully off the phone.
But then she said my name as a question, all whispery.
I caught my breath. “Yes, Nina?”
She hesitated, then said, “Nothing…I’m just glad you called tonight.”
“You are?” I said.
“Yes. Very. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” I said.
Then, with a huge knot in my chest, I made myself tell her goodbye.
“Wow. That was ah-ma-zing!” I said over the ringing in my ears as the four of us left the show and walked the few blocks toward Finch’s car. I’d been to concerts before, sitting in seats my dad referred to as the “nosebleeds” while I watched all of the action on the jumbotron—and even that had thrilled me. But the experience tonight had been totally different. For one, there were only about three hundred people in the entire audience. For another, we were so close to Luke that I could see individual hairs in his beard and the stitching on his jeans and the sweat on his cheeks. It was, without a doubt, the best night of my life so far, and that had as much to do with Finch as with Luke Bryan. No star could have melted me as much as Finch did when he put his arm around me during “To the Moon and Back.” It wasn’t done in a coupley way, more like a friend hug, the same way I occasionally had slung my arm around Grace’s shoulders. But still, the contact and closeness killed me. “Totally amazing,” I said again, almost in a state of disbelief.
“Yeah. It was a cool vibe,” Finch said, his voice all chill and mellow.
“So cool,” Grace said, her ponytail swishing back and forth as she and Beau walked in front of us. “And he’s so hot.”
“Why, thank you!” Beau said.
She laughed and gave him a little shove. “Not you, dummy,” she said. “Luke.”
“Hey now,” Beau said, putting his hands over his heart. “Dummy? Aren’t we on a date here?”
“No, we aren’t on a date,” Grace said, continuing their flirty banter, which had been going since about midway through the show. “You didn’t even invite me. Lyla did.”
Technically, she was correct. When Finch had called about the tickets that afternoon, he’d said there were four, and that I was free to bring a friend. I’d made the mistake of telling Grace this part of the conversation, to which she’d replied that the whole thing seemed kind of sketchy. “Like, why wouldn’t Beau want to pick his own date?” she had asked.
“I don’t know,” I’d floundered. “Maybe he likes you.”
“Highly doubtful,” Grace had said, but I could tell she didn’t hate the idea. “And why isn’t Finch taking Polly?”
“They broke up.”
“When?” she’d asked, sounding suspicious. “Why haven’t I heard anything about that?”
“Like a day ago,” I’d said, making a split-second decision not to tell her the full story. I didn’t want to lie to Grace, but I also wanted to keep my promise to Finch. At least for now. I told myself I could always tell her everything after the show. Depending on how things went. “I think maybe he’s just trying to be nice. To, like…make up for things,” I said, the words coming out awkwardly.
“Okay. I guess I’ll go with you,” she’d said, some part of her probably intrigued by the idea of going out with the two most popular senior boys. “But don’t get your hopes up.”
“Oh, God, no. It’s not like that….” I’d said, even though I hoped beyond hope that it was exactly like that.
“So what’re you tryin’ to say?” Beau said to Grace now. “I’m not gonna get it in?”
It wasn’t the first outrageous thing he’d said tonight, but it was definitely the most. Grace groaned, then laughed and hip-checked him, a tough feat given that she came up to only his rib cage. “Not with me, you’re not.”
“Whoa! You’re pretty strong for an imp,” Beau said, pretending to trip on the curb.
“What the fuck’s an imp?” Finch said, as he walked along beside me while reading something on his phone.
“It’s, like, a little woodland creature. Like a gnome or some shit.” Beau laughed, then nudged Grace and said, “What do you weigh, anyway? A buck o’ five soaking wet?”
“I have no idea. I don’t go around weighing myself with no clothes on,” Grace said, her voice turning all high and coy, like she wanted him to picture her naked.
As we neared Finch’s car, parked in a surface lot a few blocks up on Grundy next to the World Gym, he said, “Lyla calls shotgun.”
“Good deal,” Beau said as he opened the door for Grace, and Finch did the same for me. “I get to sit with my date.”
“I’m not your date.” Grace giggled, climbing into the car.
“We’ll see about that,” Beau said, getting in beside her, then sliding into the middle seat.
“Move over,” she said, laughing and pushing him away.
“I’m good here, thanks,” he said, putting his arm around her.
She shoved him again, unsuccessfully. As Beau and Grace continued their antics, Finch walked around to get in the car, then slowly fastened his seatbelt, started the engine, and put the car in reverse. His foot on the brake, he glanced over at me, then looked into the rearview mirror. “So what next?” he said to all of us. “Y’all wanna grab a bite? The Flipside or Double Dogs?”
“Oh my God, yass. The Flipside,” Grace said, as I saw out of the corner of my eye that she and Beau were now getting handsy.
“Lyla?” Finch said.
I hesitated, checking my phone. It was ten after ten. “Yeah. I guess we could,” I said, waffling, trying to do the calculation of time and distance, both of which I pretty consistently misjudged. “I just need to be back by eleven.” I’d referenced having a “lame curfew” a couple times already, but it was the first time I’d come out and announced exactly what it was.
“E-lev-en?” Beau yelled, fumbling around behind my seat for a black backpack I’d noticed on the way over.
“Yeah. I know. It sucks,” I mumbled, thinking that it didn’t help matters that I lived on the other side of town from everyone else. “Lemme ask my dad if I can just be back to Grace’s by eleven.”
“Or you can sleep over?” Grace said.
I shook my head, feeling sure he’d say no to a sleepover, especially given the last time I’d been at her house. So I composed a text making a smaller request: Concert just got out. Starving, can we go get something to eat real fast? Can be to Grace’s by 11, then home a little after?? I threw in a few praying emojis for good measure, then watched his ellipses start to scroll. Slooooww typing was my dad’s trademark, and it didn’t seem to matter how short his replies were—they always took forever.
Sure enough, his delayed response was still brief and to the point. No. Be HOME by 11. Dad.
“Ugh,” I said, reading it aloud in the voice I often used to imitate my father—part nerd, part drill sergeant.
Finch laughed. “He signs his texts ‘Dad’?”
“Yeah,” I said with a chuckle.
“That’s hilarious. Okay…I’ll take you back to Grace’s,” Finch said, pulling up his Luke Bryan songs on his phone.
As we turned out of the parking lot and onto Grundy Street, I felt myself start to relax, my concert high returning. Clearly Finch wasn’t judging my curfew or really worried about anything, including Beau, who was now clicking his JUUL, the same orange one I’d seen him use at his party. A few seconds later, the car filled with a cloud of vapor as Finch unrolled the two back windows about halfway. Over my shoulder, I watched Grace take a hit, murmuring that it tasted good.
“You think that’s good…you should taste something else,” Beau said.
“Eww! Gross!” Grace laughed as she passed the vape back to him.
“Anyone up there?” Beau said, reaching into the front seat, offering it to us.
I glanced at it, tempted. But I played it safe and shook my head. “No, thanks,” I said casually. “Not tonight.”