I snorted. “Dork.”
“Mikey’s practicing his breakdancing inside,” he said as he came to stand beside me, hands wrapped around the railing and his bare arm warm and solid against mine. “You’re missing a real show.”
“Oh God.” I laughed at that; I couldn’t help it. “Did somebody put a blanket over the TV so he doesn’t put his foot through the screen?”
“Good thinking,” Alex said. “We probably should have moved the lamps, too.”
“Probably,” I agreed. Then, unable to hold it in any longer: “Do you realize this could be the last time we do this?” I asked.
Alex grinned. “Leave the room when Mikey is putting on a one-man talent show?”
I frowned. “You know what I mean,” I said. “The tour starts in two weeks. Guy’s going to make his decision any minute, and then”—I waved my arms vaguely—“poof.”
“Poof, what?” Alex asked, eyes narrowing. “He’s going to pick you.”
I shook my head. “We need to convince him to pick us both.”
“Okay,” Alex said slowly. “Well, then, that’s what you’ll do.”
“And if we can’t?”
“You will.”
“Based on what?” I asked sharply, then immediately regretted it. “I’m sorry,” I said, digging the heels of my hands into my eyes. “I don’t mean to snap at you, I’m just—”
“You’re freaking out,” Alex said. “I get it. And I know you don’t like when I say this—I know you think I don’t understand how the real world works. But you’ve come too far for things to fall apart now, you know? You and I both have.”
He tipped his chin down to kiss me then, fingers splayed across my backbone and his broad, solid chest against mine. I closed my eyes tightly, tried to relax. Normally the press of Alex’s mouth was steadying, but my brain was spiraling out in a million different directions—Guy and Olivia and the glittering prize of a cross-country tour with Tulsa, the blankness of my life back in Jessell if I got sent home. What Alex and I had felt fragile and temporary, like it might blow away forever in a hot gust of tropical wind.
There was a part of me that wanted to end things now, I thought, even as he kissed me: to have this much, at least, be my choice instead of throwing myself on the mercy of the universe. I hated how powerless I felt all of a sudden. I’d come to Orlando in the first place to try to get some control over my future. But even after everything, my fate wasn’t mine to decide.
Alex could tell I wasn’t with him. “Hey,” he said, pulling away and reaching for both my hands, lacing our fingers together and looking at me urgently. “It’s me, remember? Don’t go where I can’t find you.”
I shook my head, let him pull me closer again. “I’m right here,” I promised, which wasn’t entirely true.
“I love you,” he reminded me. “Whatever else happens, that’s going to stay true.”
I nodded, tried to believe him. “I love you, too,” I said.
Alex kissed me again and I tried to surrender to it, to what was happening in front of me right here and right now. One perfect moment—that’s what I’d told him “Tangerine” was about, wasn’t it? Something rare and amazing—and something that couldn’t possibly last. I pushed the thought out of my head, held on tight.
THIRTY-SEVEN
The next afternoon was Saturday, and the boys were splashing around in the pool, but I took Olivia’s car to the studio, wanting to spend some time rehearsing on my own. It was funny, I thought as I pulled into the parking lot—when I first got here and desperately needed the practice, the last thing I would have wanted was to come here on my day off to put extra time in. Now, though, when I was arguably as good I was going to get before Guy made his decision, I actually wanted to work.
I thought I’d be alone in the cool, dark space, but when I let myself inside I could hear music coming from Guy’s office, the fifties and sixties rock ’n’ roll he liked best. “It’s Dana,” I called, poking my head in on my way to the voice room. Guy was sitting at his desk with a stack of papers in one hand and a pen in the other, reading glasses perched on his nose. He always looked older when he had them on.
“Oh, good, you’re here,” he said, setting his papers down on the desktop instead of just waving me on like I’d expected. “Come in for a minute.” He dug through the stacks in front of him and presented me with a thick three-ring binder. “Take that,” he said, holding it out unceremoniously. “For you.”
“What’s this?” I asked, my arm sagging a bit under its unexpected heft.
“It’s your tour schedule,” he told me. “I was going to have Juliet drop it off later, but since you’re here. Learn it, live it, love it.”
“My tour schedule?” I gaped at him. “You mean—” I broke off.
Guy looked at me coolly. “Close your mouth, kiddo. Something’s going to fly in there.”
I snapped my jaw shut abruptly, only to have it fall right open again. It felt like we’d skipped a million steps here. This wasn’t what I’d been expecting at all. “It’s me?” I squeaked.
“It’s you,” Guy said, taking off his glasses and tossing them onto the desk, then sitting back in his chair and folding his hands on his stomach. “Come on, kiddo. You know that. It’s always been you. It’s been you since I picked you out of that waiting room at the beginning of the summer.” He looked pleased with himself. “I told you, I don’t make mistakes.”
I blinked silently, speechless. I honestly didn’t know what to say. I was shocked—not so much by the fact of Guy picking me but by the way it was happening, a chance encounter on a quiet afternoon. This wasn’t how I’d pictured it at all. I’d thought it would be like the morning he’d cut Ashley and Kristin, a formal meeting with me and Olivia both—not just him handing down the news with no fanfare, no time for me to prepare. It threw me off my guard entirely.
I wondered if that was exactly the point.
“I think the words you’re looking for are thank you,” Guy said now, gazing at me across the desk with a dry kind of amusement. Then, when I still didn’t say anything, he prompted, “Thank you, Guy.”
“Thank you,” I echoed finally, coming back to myself enough to understand what he was holding out to me, enough to picture it. For the first time I let myself imagine what it would be like in full Technicolor: traveling around the country with Alex, sleeping with my head on his shoulder on a tour bus, fields and mountains stretching out on every side. Performing at arenas that held tens of thousands of people, feeling the floor shake underneath me as they clapped their hands and stomped their feet. Never having to worry about money again. Yes, I almost said, my grip gone tense around the binder, my sweaty fingertips slipping on the plastic and the edges of it digging into my arms as I held it to my chest for dear life. Yes, I want this, I’ve earned this, it’s mine.