“This is going to work between us,” he stresses just before he kisses me. “But I have to leave for New York first thing Tuesday.”
My lips curve into an uneasy smile and I nod, but my heart is crushed at the idea of him across the country from me when I’ve just gotten him back. “Don’t they have studios here in LA?”
“I’m meeting with a record producer who I think is going to be the perfect fit for my album. He understands what I’m trying to do—something raw and authentic. Less produced. He’s usually booked, but my manager got me a meeting, so I can’t pass up this chance to work with him.”
“How long will you be gone?”
“I don’t know. If it all comes together, we could start recording right away,” he explains.
“Here?”
“Maybe here. Or maybe in New York. I’m not sure yet.” He runs a finger down my temple, his gaze watchful and steady. I can’t look away. “But I’ll call you. Text you. And I promise to be back soon.”
He lowers his head to kiss me and I smile. “I’m sad that you’re leaving, but I’m also so excited for you.”
“It’s only temporary. I can’t stand being away from you for too long,” he whispers against my lips. “Everything is finally making sense. You. Me. My career. You’re exactly what I need, Charlotte.”
I kiss him back, winding my arms around his neck. Emotion swirls inside me—happiness, excitement, longing. Just when I finally have Tate, when I nearly have all of him, I feel like he’s slipping away. But I push the fear away and smile against his lips, enjoying this one moment, right here, right now.
EIGHTEEN
I HAVE BECOME ONE OF those girls. Obsessively checking my phone. Peeking at it secretly at my desk. Carrying it in my hand between classes so I can feel the vibration if Tate happens to send me a text. I hate that I’m doing it, but I can’t seem to stop. When Mia catches me, I lie and say I’m just anxious to hear from Stanford. Admissions letters will go out any day now, but still, all I can think about is Tate.
He’s been in New York for eight days and it feels like a month. So when an e-mail pops up during sixth period, I reach for my phone so quickly that I knock it onto the floor.
The clatter draws too much attention to me, and I have to shove the phone back in my bag and wait until class ends to read it. When the bell rings and I finally get to open the message, it takes me a moment to process what it means. It’s an electronic airline ticket to New York City...for this weekend.
I stop dead in the middle of the hallway, all sounds muffled around me.
He bought me a ticket to New York City! He wants me to come see him.
*
I decide that there’s no other way. I have to come clean. I can’t fly across the country without telling someone. And I need his help. After sending a cryptic text to Carlos, we meet up at the Lone Bean. I guilt-buy him an iced coffee, compliment a shirt he’s had forever, and that’s when he tells me to spill.
“Something’s going on, Charlotte,” he says. “I know you.”
Finally, after dragging it out, I confess to Carlos everything about Tate: how he apologized at the lab, how he promised things would be different, how we’ve been dating secretly. And finally, about the ticket to New York.
Carlos actually looks numb, his coffee frozen in his hand, halfway raised to his mouth. “You’ve been seeing him this whole time?”
“I should have told you, I know, I’m so sorry. But things just got complicated before when everyone found out about us.”
“I’m your best friend.”
I press my hands over my eyes. “I know. I’m sorry, a million times I’m sorry. But I’m being honest now. And I really need your help.”
He looks down at me, rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek. I’ve lied to him twice now about Tate—first when I didn’t tell him I was dating Tate Collins, and now that I’ve been seeing him again—and I can see the disappointment in his gaze.
And then I ask him to lie for me. “I told my grandma that you and I are going to a Model UN summit in New York.”
“We’re not in Model UN club.”
“She thinks they were short two people for the trip, so we signed up.”
“That sounds so made up.”
I know it does. “But my grandma doesn’t know that.”
“I don’t want to lie to your grandma for you, Charlotte.”
I can barely meet Carlos’s eyes. “She’s not going to call you or anything to check, but if she does, just say that you’re with me and we’re really excited to represent Norway or Iceland or something at the summit.”
“Those are the countries you want to represent?”
“Pick whichever country you want,” I say, laughing.
Carlos’s mouth twists. “I’d much rather be Switzerland and stay out of this whole thing.”
“Please,” I beg. “Just help me do this one thing and I’ll owe you majorly.”