I can’t answer. The resonance of what I just did to Scott gets a hold of me.
“Beth? Are you there?”
I finally manage a weak, “Where are you?”
“Waiting for our bags in Toronto.”
“I can’t believe you got home so fast.” I pick at the last sliver of pink nail polish on my big toe.
“Direct flight from Schipol.”
“That isn’t fair.” My voice is too high, wobbles at the end.
“What’s up? You sound—”
“We’re on the same continent.” Can he tell what I did?
“Same time zone.”
I need to see him. He’ll figure this out. He always knows what to do. “Do you have any nice park benches in London?”
“I think we can find one.”
“I really need to be with you again. Something crazy just happened.” I blurt the whole episode with Scott out to him. “I don’t know what got into him. I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again. I told him all about you. We’ve been friends forever and ever. It’s so weird.”
Derek doesn’t say anything. Crap. I’m so stupid. Why did I tell him?
“It’s okay, Beth. I get it. At least I get him.” His voice is smooth and reassuring. He’s not mad at all. Shouldn’t he be a tiny bit mad? “What about you? What do you want?”
“What do you mean?” I hold myself still as I can and press the phone hard against my ear.
“I’m glad you have somebody solid like that. Maybe you should dump me. You obviously have feelings for him.”
“What? Dump you?” I feel dizzy. “For Scott? No. What? No.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
I take a deep breath so I don’t fall off the toilet seat. “The only way you can hurt me is to keep talking like this.”
“Beth, I—”
“Why are you so understanding?” A hint of suspicion creeps into my voice. “You should be livid. And incredibly jealous.”
“I didn’t say I wasn’t jealous.”
“That girl. That’s it. You want to get back with her. No, Derek. Please. I’m really sorry.”
“You’re insane.”
He’s right, but I can’t stop myself. “She wants you back. I know it. Have you seen her yet?” The dizzy returns. I force myself to breathe.
“At the baggage claim in the airport?”
“Could happen.”
“I called you first—even before my mum. I want you, Beth.” His voice goes deep with intensity. “The question is do you want me?”
“Crap.” I stand and stretch my legs.
“What now?”
“That means you’ve got to go. Call your mom, you idiot. Then call me back and tell me you can’t live without me.”
“I can’t live without you.”
I’m swirling in Derek deliciousness. “And you’re insanely jealous over Scott?”
“Insanely. No more getting it on with old kindergarten buddies.”
“Preschool.” I glance in the mirror. I can be Bliss perfect in an hour.
“Thanks for telling me. It’s so—”
“Stupid?” I plug in my hair flattening thing.
He laughs. “You. No pretense. No games.”
I turn around and lean against the sink, focus on what he’s saying. “Games? Don’t play them with me. My heart can’t take that.”
“What can it take?”
“Seeing you tonight?” If I leave in an hour, I’ll be in London in time to meet his bus home from Toronto.
“I’m dead on my feet.”
He wants sleep instead of me? “Tomorrow?”
“I’ll get back to you on that.”
How can he stand not seeing me? We’re so close. “I’ll come to your place. I’ve got a car—”
“Not a good idea.”
“You can come here then.” If I work all night I can have my room clean. Him in my room? Thinking that makes me crazy. “I’m going to be a wreck until I see you again.”
“I’ll try to borrow some wheels.”
“Call me.”
He misses his beat.
“Derek?”
“Are you sure, Beth?” He coughs. His voice takes on the twist of torture it held when he broke down on our bench back in Switzerland. “I can’t guarantee getting tangled up with me won’t be rough on your heart.”
Why, Derek? How will you hurt me? When will you tell me everything? I cover my questions with a shaky laugh. “You do want to dump me. Crap.”
“Just think about it. That other guy—”
Doesn’t he remember those words he sang to me in Lausanne? That promise?The way you kiss, the way you sing,
The way you tell me everything.
Will you take my heart?
I’m offering it to you. . . .
I do. I sing my reply, It’s gotta be, it’s gotta be about you.
chapter 18
PILLOW TALK
I spend the rest of the day trying to get my cell to ring. I call back twice. Leave a message once. Send two texts.
I even call Sarah. “Hey. They’re back. Have you heard from Blake?”
“Blake’s a jerk. Why would I want to hear from him?”
“Do you have his cell?”
She gives it to me. Memorized. Jerk, huh?
I enter it in my cell’s phone book, dial, but hang up before it rings. Calling Blake is over-the-top desperate. I write Derek an email just in case his cell phone got flushed down the toilet or something tragic like that. I finally put on the Amabile guys’ new CD, fall asleep listening to Derek sing, clutching my cell phone to my heart.
It goes off at 2:00 a.m. I startle awake—not sure what’s going on. I sit up confused. The phone is jumping around in my sheets.
Derek. Yes. Derek.
“Hey.”
“You awake?”
“Sure.”
“I fell asleep on the drive from Toronto. I don’t even remember walking into the house.”
What happened to, Can’t sleep, can’t dream without you?
“Sorry I didn’t call back.” His voice sounds thick and scratchy. Exhausted.
At least he’s sorry. “That cold of yours is back. You should get some more rest.”
“I’m wide awake now. Don’t you want to talk?”
I’m wide awake, too. “How about we do more than talk? I’ll get in my car, and you guide me to your place. Just don’t hang up.” I get out of bed and search through the pile of clothes on my floor with my foot. Designer jeans, where are you? I get silly and start singing him the chorus of our duet.And now—our love is so true,
I won’t take a step without you.
Thank God, you came. If you love me, please don’t ever let me go.
He doesn’t come in on his cue. “It’s almost an hour drive. You can’t do that at 2:00 a.m.”
With him as the prize, I could do anything. “Meet me halfway then.” I sing, I’ ll walk with you until the dawn.
He sings back, I don’t have my own car.
“That was so not romantic. Swipe your parents’ car.” I unearth the jeans. They are clean—enough. “You’ll be back before they know it.”
“My dad works the night shift. I’d get busted.”
“Don’t be such a baby.” I hold the phone with my shoulder and squirm into my skinny jeans. “You’re almost eighteen—right? What can they do?”
“Actually,” he pauses, “I’m nineteen.”
“Really?” I sit back down on my bed. “You don’t look that old.”
“Too old for you?”
“No.” I won’t be eighteen until next spring, but that hardly matters. “I didn’t picture you starting college this fall. Are you leaving?” That’s not really a fairy-tale vision for two, is it?
“I’m not going.”
“What?” I assumed Derek was an AP student, straight-A guy like . . . Scott.
“University isn’t going to work out for me.”