"You've been gone, Addy," I say. "You were on tour and -- "
"You hate the military," she says, shaking her head. She looks at me with such sadness and disappointment that the ache in the pit of my stomach threatens to gnaw a gaping hole in it a mile wide. "Why?"
My grip is still tight on her wrist, and I want to grab her other hand. I can't touch her without wanting her. "I can't -- "
"Because you hate me more," she says, her jaw clenched. She's looking up at me, her eyes flashing. "That's what it is, isn't it? You've been mad at me ever since the road trip and you hate me for some reason, but you won't tell me and you're going to join the Marines and you can't leave. You just can't. And you can't fucking di --"
I know what she's going to say. She's going to say die. And I won't let her say it. I bring my mouth crashing down on hers, kissing her with everything I have. I'm only seventeen, going on eighteen in a few months, so I'm not supposed to have earth-shattering moments. I might be young, but I know enough about life to know when a moment is different from everything else that's ever happened before, or will likely ever happen in the future.
That's what it's like when I kiss her.
It's cheesy and corny, like some romantic movie, but I swear on my life that everything pauses. The world stops rotating on its axis, the bullshit parents and record label and adoring fans and stupid friends fade away into the background and it's Addy and I and no one else.
I kiss her like I've never kissed anyone before, and like I know I'll never kiss anyone ever again.
When I pull away from her, I inhale the breath I've been holding, her face in my hands. Her lips plump and swollen, she speaks, breathless. "Don't leave."
*
PRESENT DAY
"Don't you find it strange that they never moved out of this place?" I ask. We sit in the driveway in the car as rain pours down on the windshield, runs down the glass in rivulets.
Addy rolls her eyes. "Why would they?" she asks. "It was paid for with my record deals. Who wouldn't want a free mansion?"
"You could sell it," I tell her, as we walk inside. "Talk to that attorney of yours."
Addy shrugs. "My mother hasn't been as horrific as she used to be," she says.
"They orchestrated you winding up stuck with me," I note.
"Exactly," she says. She winks at me, then turns away, walking ahead down the hallway before I can even respond. So now she likes being stuck with me?
"Mother," Addy says. The Wicked Bitch greets her with air kisses on the cheeks, like we're in Paris and not Nashville fucking Tennessee. She makes a move to air kiss me as well, but I hold up my hand and shake my head.
"Hello, Wendy," I say.
"Well, the two of you are late." That's the extent of the greeting I get before she turns, cocktail in hand. She's wearing a bright turquoise silk pantsuit and heels like she's hosting a dinner party. "We're in the dining room already."
"We?" Addy asks. "You didn't tell us this would be anyone other than family." I can hear the irritation in her voice, and I know she's considering walking out of here.
"Oh, don't be ungracious, Addy," her mother says.
The Colonel stands, gesturing toward the people at the table, an older couple and a guy around my age. The guy stands up, his napkin in hand, and I can see him checking Addy out. I decide that if I catch him doing that one more time, I'll obviously have to kill him.
"This is Martina and Rudolph Benton, and their son, Tustin," he says.
"We should just do this another time. We're not really dressed for a dinner or anything," Addy says, looking down at her clothes. She's wearing black leggings and a long shirt made out of some kind of pink material that shimmers when she moves. She looks amazing, but then Addy could make a paper bag look like a ten thousand dollar dress. "Since we didn't know we were coming to anything but a family dinner, Mother."
"Nonsense," the Wicked Bitch says, laughing nervously. She puts a hand on Addy's back to guide her. "I thought you could have a seat by Tustin. You two have a lot in common, actually."
Addy's forehead wrinkles, but she walks slowly around the table to sit down. And I realized immediately what this is. It's our parents setting Addy up with this obvious tool, Tustin. They're pimping her out. I'm sure they have some kind of agenda, since they only really operate out of self-interest.
I'm so disgusted and enraged by the entire thing that I don't realize I'm the only one standing there, my hands clenched by my side, until my father says, "Hendrix, there's a seat for you right there."
Great. My options are to walk the hell out of here and leave Addy with some douchebag my parents are trying to set her up with, or sit across from her at dinner with the douchebag my parents are trying to set her up with, silently seething and swallowing my rage.
Fucking awesome.