Can't Buy Me Love by Abigail Drake, Tammy Mannersly, Bridie Hall, Grea Warner, Lisa Hahn, Melissa Kay Clarke, Stephanie Keyes (11)

ALL MY MEMORIES

Another one. Another text or tweet or some other electronic message coming in. Another time someone wanted something. I’d like to just ignore the chirping contraption, because, in some ways, my phone was the bane of my existence. But, it was also a savior … a connector … a ‘you have one minute to decide on this or someone else is going to get the opportunity’ machine. It was, essentially, my lifeline to this crazy, super pumped-up world that I had always wanted but never truly envisioned would happen. So, I dealt with it—the beeps, the chirps, the vibrations, and the ring tones. Because, for the most part, I wouldn’t want it any other way. Just…just sometimes…I wished I could get a break.

I looked at the screen expecting some kind of congratulatory note from a fellow musician or another request for an appearance from my publicist. But, it was neither. No. It was that Iva girl. She forwarded cute, little tidbits about the music industry, as if I didn’t already know. And, if I didn’t respond, she’d send out a generic ‘hope all is well’ message. I knew she was doing it to keep in touch and probably had the purest of intentions, but I didn’t have the time. Plus, even though she’s nice enough and all that, there’s just not a spark. At this point, I’m not sure there ever will be—with her or anyone else.

Regardless, I read the message: I heard you are in town. We should get together.

Damn my sister and her matchmaker in-laws. They were the ones who started this whole Iva business. In a moment of lonely vulnerability, I’d let them set me up with her the last time I was in the New York area. But now they needed to leave it alone. If I wanted her to know, I would have told her. I didn’t need them broadcasting to Iva where I was.

Now . . . what to do? How to respond? Should I lie and say that I wasn’t in town? Should I say that I was extra busy during my short visit? It wasn’t too far from the truth, after all. Or, should I just tell her that it really wasn’t going to work out? No, I decided, I’m not good with leaving. I knew that about myself.

I contemplated my options as I stepped through the skyscraper’s revolving glass door into the bustling lower Manhattan business district. I had just finished meeting with some of the head honchos at the label where we’d been discussing future projects. So, between thinking of upcoming collaborations and trying to figure out how to deal with Iva, I didn’t see it coming. I should have. There was always one or two that figured out where to position themselves to see a celebrity. And in front of a record label’s building was a sure bet.

“Finn! It’s Finn Murphy,” the redhead screeched.

I tried not to physically cover my ears. After all, a fan was a fan, and I did appreciate all they had given me. I just wished they didn’t have to do it with a sneak attack and holler at the top of their lungs all the time. I’m a human being. Just talk to me.

“Hi,” said her friend, a blonde. She was bubbly but, thankfully, a little more subdued. “Congrats on the CMA nominations.”

“Thanks,” I replied while moving my aviator sunglasses over my eyes. I didn’t have my trademark, green contact lenses in which the label preferred I wear, and I didn’t want to disappoint any fans with my plain gray hues. “You follow country music, I guess?”

“We both do.” The redhead rejoined the conversation. “We go to every concert we can, even the ones on campus.”

Yep. I figured. Sorority girls. They had the screech down pat.

“That’s great. That’s actually how I started.” I closed my eyes for the slightest of moments remembering the exhilaration of the first time on a stage. The local bars . . .  the bad sound equipment . . . the lonely mic … having just friends in the audience . . . playing solely for tips or beer. Things were a lot different now, but my excitement and passion for the craft wasn’t. “Sorry, girls, my ride is here.”

The valet pulling up in my steely blue coupe was perfectly timed, as my ability to continue small talk was running thin. I took refuge in my car which had been my guilty pleasure gift to myself after winning the CMA for new artist. Throwing on my seat belt, I planned on heading straight uptown to my NYC penthouse. Located near Central Park, it was a little piece of heaven amongst the chaos and buzz of the city which truly never seemed to sleep.

In some ways, the penthouse was the same as my main residence—a sprawling ranch in Nashville, Tennessee. They both were secure and contained all of the newest amenities on the market. The difference was, the ranch had the serenity of space around it. During my wildest college band dreams, I never could have imagined living in one of my homes, let alone, owning both.

No sooner had I started driving north, then my phone rang through the coupe’s hands-free system. A quick glance at the dash told me my sister was on the line. I always picked up for family, but this time, I made sure to. I had a bone to pick with my one and only sibling.

“Nol,” I started right away. “Why did you tell Iva I was going to be in town visiting y’all?”

“Your twang sure comes out when you get testy,” she bounced right back.

“Nola!”

“Munch…”

Ah, there she went with the damn nickname. Geez, that was in grade school. I would never live it down. So what if I ate all the snacks in the house growing up? I’d been a strapping young lad and had burned off the calories with all my excessive energy. She should’ve been glad not to have ruined her girly figure.

“Seriously, Nola.”

“Finn,” Her breathy pout seemed exaggerated via the car’s excellent speaker system. “I didn’t tell her anything. She’s Will’s mom’s friend. I don’t even really know her.”

“Well, she knows I’m here.”

“Um, you’re not hard to track, especially with the media surrounding the award announcements this week.”

I knew what she said was true. While I liked getting a chance to see my sister and her kids, the real reason I was in the vicinity was to announce the CMA nominees. They had been broadcasted live on a national New York morning show. So, yeah, okay, Nola might not have been the nark. But, of course, I didn’t admit that out loud.

“And, besides, is Iva that bad?” she asked.

“No,” I admitted. “No, I guess it’s not. I just don’t know where it’s ever going to lead.”

“Don’t worry about where it’s going to lead. Just enjoy the company.” Before I could interject, she added, “She’s a nice lady.”

Lady. God, using that term made me feel so old. But, I guess maybe I was. Sheez, birthday number thirty was just around the corner. How did that happen?

“Just because you have earned every award known to the country music world…”

“Hardly.” I physically shook my head. I’d only received some beginning ones. I had many more to tackle.

“Well, more than most. Anyway, my point is, it doesn’t mean you should live the rockstar lifestyle forever. Don’t let what happened with Audrey mess you up from the good ones out there.”

Audrey had messed me up. And, my sister knew it. She was one of the core few who actually knew to what extent. But Audrey had been years ago. And even though she was part of my hesitancy, the job had a hand in it, too. I didn’t know who was with me for me and not the fame, the notoriety, or the money. If I wanted to get laid, hell, sure—that was a no-brainer. I could ‘get some’ practically whenever I wanted. But, to trust someone with your heart and know they would always be there … I wasn’t so sure.

“I’ll call her,” I found myself agreeing, and then changed the subject. “So, what’s up? I’m pretty sure you didn’t call to talk about my love life.”

“Uh, yeah. I’d prefer not to.” The inflection in her voice reminded me of our teenage years, and I stifled a laugh. “You know that thing at Wyatt’s school?”

“Yeah?”

Nola had texted me the night before. Her son’s school, located about an hour away in their suburban New York neighborhood, wanted to raise money for one of the students who was suffering from some kind of heart disease. It seemed very serious and very sad—literally, heartbreaking. She let me know that my six-year-old chatterbox of a nephew had volunteered me to sing. Truth was, I would do anything for that little guy. He was the coolest dude ever created. Although, his little sister had my heart, too.

I’d agreed, of course, for Wyatt and for the student who was so sick. But, it made me a little sad because, I knew with Wyatt blurting out my family connection, it would change things. My sister, her husband, and the kids would no longer have total privacy in their new community. They would be connected to me and my celebrity. While, admittedly, it had its perks, it also came with cautions and scrutiny, too.

“What’s going on with the fundraiser?” I continued. “Did you tell them I could help?”

“Well, yeah. I went into the school today and talked with the people in charge. So… Finn…”

“Yeah?”

Oh-oh. Why was she hesitating? What did she get me into? I wanted to sing—just me and my guitar. I didn’t want press or any meet and greets where people were trying to touch me in places they shouldn’t. I just wanted to sing and help the family.

“I met with two of the women in charge of setting up the fundraiser.”

“Uh-huh,” Although I loved driving, doing it during rush hour in the Big Apple demanded my full attention, and my sister was distracting me with her bizarre version of twenty questions. I gripped the leather steering wheel a little tighter and pleaded, “Nol, I’m in Manhattan traffic. What’s up?”

“One of them is the technology coordinator for the school.”

An instant vision of a nerdy tech girl with horned rimmed glasses and no personality came to mind. She would probably have a billion ideas on how to broadcast cheesy videos behind me. I hated to stereotype but, nine times out of ten, it was true.

“No hoopla videos,” I admonished. “Just simple, right?”

“No. That’s not why I’m telling you. Her name is Lara.”

Nola had paused. But, had she not, I don’t think I would have heard her, anyway. The announcement of that name made my brain momentarily turn to haze and my stomach do an immediate somersault of weird hope and shock.

“Lara Faulkner.” She clinched the deal with the last name.

There had been a legitimate reason for the belly aerobics. It was Lara. Of all…Wow.

Oops, sorry Mr. Taxi Cab Driver, I silently apologized for the near collision. I hadn’t been paying attention. I wasn’t focused on the road…at all.

“Lara Faulkner, as in…” I finally managed.

“Yeah, the same one.”

It had been what . . .? God, seven years since we had last spoken or seen one another. All my memories of her and that more innocent time came rushing back—not that they were ever too far. . .

***

The colorful, old mountains of West Virginia were the scenic setting for my home away from home during my collegiate days. It was during the latter part of my junior year that I first met and became friends with Lara. But, admittedly, at first, I wasn’t too impressed.

“Sam!” I smacked the back of my friend’s head from my seat behind his driver’s one. “Why is this girl at the library? No one goes to the library. It’s smelly and musty and … no one goes to the library. And, it’s Friday night.”

“Finn Murphy,” his girlfriend/ball-and-chain/pain-in-the-ass scolded me. “You be quiet. Lara is my friend. You’ll like her. Just flash those pearly whites at her and sing her a tune.” She had the nerve to wink at me.

I only tolerated Olivia because of Sam, and my pearly whites were biting at the chance to tell her off. If this Lara girl was a friend of Olivia’s, she already had one strike against her. And whether she knew it or not, I knew they were setting us up. Sam did it for Olivia but probably also for himself so he wouldn’t have a third wheel around. I was open to it, though. While I didn’t really have a problem meeting girls, the quality around campus seemed a little flimsy. All the girls I’d met so far were sorority flakes. Maybe this one would be different. Maybe she liked country music. Maybe she would like our band. I mean, it could happen. Since I knew nothing about her, though, the verdict was definitely still out.

The co-ed in question was standing on the steps of the library as our car pulled up. She looked at her watch, toward us in the car, and then once more back and forth. I glanced at my phone. We were a few minutes or so late, but nothing to do the whole look up, look down thing about. The show couldn’t start until I arrived, anyhow.

The time issue was quickly put to rest, though, as I got a better look at Olivia’s friend. She had long, platinum hair—blonde like a Barbie doll’s. Wearing jean shorts and a red T, her figure wasn’t super skinny, but she also didn’t appear to have the beer gut some of the other girls did. And her eyes were a mystical turquoise shade like one of the nearby rivers on a sunny day.

Well, so far, so good, I thought. I took a swig of my beer and watched as she opened the back door. Scooting closer to Bryan, I patted the now empty seat to the left of me.

“I’m so ready!” This new addition to our carpool surprised me with her enthusiastic entrance, and I felt her leg momentarily graze mine. “So, which one of you is the singer?”

“I am.” I reversed the ball cap on my brown head of hair so I could see more of her and less of the rim. “He’s just added baggage.” I punched my friend and guitarist, Bryan, in the arm.

“Yeah, right.” Bryan shook his head causing his tiny black curls to slightly bounce.

“Liv, do the introductions,” Sam directed as he started driving once again.

“I’m Olivia.” Olivia thought she was being funny, or cute, or something as she looked back and waved to us. She wasn’t.

“Nice to meet you.”

The newbie next to me thought Olivia was funny. Oh boy, I thought. Strike two.

“Lara, Finn, Bryan.” Olivia pointed to each of us in a row as she said our names.

“Nice to meet you,” Lara inched her leg away from me as if repulsed, but, yet, she sounded nice and genuine. “So, what songs are you going to sing?”

“Some R.E.M., Springsteen, James Taylor. But, we mostly do country covers,” I answered.

“Great. That’s what I grew up on. I remember when my brother first sang ‘Tractor’s Sexy.’ I laughed my head off thinking there was no way that song was legit. And, if it was, who would listen to it? Then, I became a fan.”

“Yeah, that’s Kenny. We do a lot of Toby—‘Whiskey Girl?’” I threw out a Toby Keith title.

“Ragged-on-the-edges girl,” she recited part of the lyrics, making me think maybe I was too hasty with the last strike.

“So, what do you think?” Bryan chimed in next to me. “We’re thinking one of us should add glasses to break up the look. We picked these up at a thrift shop.”

Bryan put on the pair of studious glasses and tilted his head in a couple different directions. He then handed them to me. I tried them on and leaned a little so this Lara girl could get a good look.

“Well, you,” she said nodding at Bryan. “They look good on. You,” she directed her glance then at me. “Not so much.”

“Ha!” Bryan openly laughed.

“You might do better putting on a cowboy hat, too, instead of a ball cap. You look like a cancer patient instead of a country singer.”

Geez! Well, that was a little rude or forward or… Oh, yeah, she was Olivia’s friend. Well, Library Girl just lost the point she had earned back.

“Bro, you look fine in the baseball hat,” Sam offered from the driver’s seat.

“Really?” I didn’t want to let it show, but I was seriously taken aback. I would never tell someone they looked like a cancer patient or make any kind of derogatory comment about their appearance—at least not to their face.

“Now, who are you going to trust?” the pretty but abrupt blonde continued. “Someone who is your friend and is obligated to tell you that you look good or someone who you don’t know and has no reason to lie to you?”

“You want some of my beer?”

I didn’t know what else to say. This girl had been talking a mile a minute since she’d first entered the car. She either needed a beer or she’d already had one too many. I tipped my bottle toward her.

“What? I’m not good enough to have my own?” she questioned.

Oh, geesh. How long was this car ride, I internally sighed. “I’d get you one, but they’re in the trunk right now.” Once again, I tried to be gentlemanly and hand her my beer.

“No. I don’t know you well enough to share a drink with you.”

 Fine. It meant more alcohol for me. And I felt like I was really going to need it with how the evening had begun. I brought the bottle up to my lips before saying, “Then tell us something about yourself.”

She let out a long, breathy sigh, and I wondered whether it was because of the subject or about me. “Well, let’s see, you know where I go to school.”

“Major?” Bryan, thank God, tagged in on the conversation once again.

“Computer Science.”

“That’s what my girlfriend is into, too.”

“Oh, does she go to school here?” Lara asked.

“No. Community College,” my bandmate answered. “Well, there should definitely be jobs available in that field. Everything is electronic. Unless the computers take the jobs,” he joked, but it probably wasn’t too far from the truth.

“I just want a job. I’ll move anywhere. Totally not home bound.” There was a flash of dark blue in those eyes instead of the pure turquoise, and it made me wonder if home was even an option. “I’d love to be near a big city. Feel the rush . . . the pace. Not just moseying along in the local mall.”

All right … okay. This girl confused the heck out of me. It was like we were on a see-saw. The scorekeeper was going to need a rest. Maybe it would come down to a judge’s decision at the end of the night.

“Yeah, me too,” I spoke. “Not my whole life, though. It’s a young person’s life. What age do you think suburbia hits?”

“Thirty-five?” she ventured, and I couldn’t help but think that sounded so ancient.

“Lara,” I said. “How come we haven’t seen you around campus before?”

“I only transferred in last year and have been trying to make up credits. But, I’m still gonna be a whole semester behind on graduation.” She spoke softer that time and shifted her eyes downward.

“Well, that’s part of it.” Olivia laughed from her broomstick in the front seat. “She’s also part tech worm, part vampire. She can’t get off her computer long enough to have a social life.”

It was quite noticeable by the piercing of Lara’s eyes that she didn’t care for her friend’s comment. So, in consolation, I offered her my beer again. And, this time, she took it. It was a solid swig, but she obviously didn’t like the taste. Her nose scrunched up like it was pure bitter, and she handed the bottle right back.

“Well, no matter, it’s nice that you’re out with us tonight,” I offered in more of an effort to counteract Olivia’s poor social graces than anything else.

Lara did a quick ‘blink and you’d miss it’ smile and said, “Thanks,” as we pulled up to the venue.

I started setting up everything for the night’s performance. Sam and Bryan helped, too. Olivia and Lara had their heads bundled together in girl talk. But, the whole night, no matter how many times I tried to get Miss Faulkner’s attention from the stage, she didn’t once look at me. She didn’t even dance. She may-as-well-have stayed in the library on her tablet or whatever.

I decided the ruling was a draw. She obviously wasn’t into me, and I didn’t have the patience for a stuck-up, too-good-for-music, princess. I purposefully switched seats with Olivia for the ride back. And when the night ended, I wished her well like any other stranger I would pass on a random street miles and miles away from home.

I saw Lara on campus a few days after the show. She was walking by herself near the art building. I waved to be polite. But she didn’t even look my way. My friends laughed at the blow-off, and I went right along with them. My original assessment of her had, obviously, been correct. Next time, I wasn’t even going to wave.

And, I didn’t. But, I did look. The next time I saw her, it was in the cafeteria and she was huddled in a conversation with one of the foreign exchange student guys. The two looked friendly and totally involved in her laptop. When I casually asked Sam about them, he told me she was helping Oystein with his senior project for his upcoming graduation. But, maybe there was something more. He didn’t know. It was a curious pairing and one I didn’t need to think any more about. After all, it was almost summer break, and I was so ready for it.

A little after classes resumed for the fall semester—my senior year—Lara and I met up again. But, this time, it was not during a fun-filled evening of music and alcohol, or even against the backdrop of academia. It was something nearly tragic.

The news spread around campus like wildfire. Everybody was talking about it. A fellow fraternity brother was the one who told me . . . Sam had totaled his car. He, Olivia, and Lara were in his ancient clunker of an automobile when it somehow hit a tree. The accident had happened near campus and they were immediately taken to the hospital. No one seemed to know what was going on regarding injuries, etc., though. So, I decided to find out myself by jumping in my car and going straight to the hospital.

When I arrived and fibbed that Sam and I were brothers (fraternity should count, right?), I discovered he had been momentarily unconscious, suffered a concussion, and had a broken arm. Olivia had broken her left foot and there was something with her lung. Their injuries meant that they were both going to have to stay overnight. Lara, in contrast, seemed to have fared a lot better with just a couple banged up knees. After giving me the details, the nurse directed me to Olivia’s room since Sam was getting some sort of treatment or whatever.

When I walked into the room, I heard Lara, who was standing at Olivia’s bedside, say, “Sure. Sure, I can do it. It doesn’t matter.” She jumped a little and turned around when I cleared my throat. “Hi,” she acknowledged my presence.

“Hi.” I echoed, wondering if she was still her reclusive, self-involved self. “How you doing?”

“Better than Liv.” Her words, although spoken rather plainly, provided some much-needed lightheartedness.

“What happened?”

“A deer.” Olivia’s voice was uncommonly quiet and staggered. Sadly, injured suited her. “It jumped right out in front of us. I’m sure it’s not hurt, though. It’s probably as safe and as lucky as Lara is.”

“Yeah, right, that’s me. . .lucky,” the platinum blonde responded with undeniable sarcasm.

I ignored her loaded comment and directed my question to Olivia, “They’re keeping you and Sam, huh?”

“Yeah. Lara’s gonna check on the cats at my place.” The sociology major had a number of felines at her off-campus apartment.

“I just gotta find a way to get there. I’m assuming the ambulance we arrived in isn’t an option,” Lara teased.

“Neither is the car,” Olivia grumbled.

“I can take you.” I offered.

Lara looked at me and hesitated before replying, “You don’t have to do that. I can call a taxi or something.”

“Lara!” Olivia’s screech had her coughing and in noticeable discomfort. “He’s going back to campus, anyway.”

Lara studied me with those turquoise eyes of hers. But, before she could speak, a nurse walked in and ushered us out the door. We were supposedly agitating Olivia. I wanted to say, Olivia agitated herself . . . just like she agitated the rest of the world. But, I refrained.

“Are you sure it won’t be a bother?” Lara asked once she and I were in the lobby.

This girl swiveled from sassy and sarcastic to innocent and sweet almost in the same breath. Admittedly, it intrigued me. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. But I was beginning to think she wasn’t doing it maliciously or because she was deranged in any sense. She just … she just … I just didn’t know.

Mistaking my hesitation, she continued. “Oh, never mind. I’ll figure it out myself. I always do.” She adjusted her brown laptop bag on her shoulder, twirled on her heels, and started to walk off.

Okay. Or, maybe I was right with my original diagnosis months before—she was stuck up. “Yeah, I guess a Jeep Wrangler’s just not good enough for you.”

She, once again, turned toward me. “You have a Jeep?” Her eyes grew in size in the most positive way.

“Uh, yeah.” I could have, should have, just stood there and let her say the next thing. I should have made her feel awkward, because, after all, I was the one offering to do her a favor, and she was the one being all weird about it. But, I couldn’t. I blamed that partially on the good southern boy in me, but, part of it, damn it, was her. “C’mon, Lara, I’m a good driver. Better than Sam.” I smiled to let her know I was teasing, and she actually smiled back.

“Okay, thanks. If you’re sure. And, seriously, anyone is better than Sam,” she played along. “So, that’s not saying much.” Again, she was sweet and sassy and . . . confusing.

Without any further debate, we started walking toward the exit in sync. That’s when I heard her stomach growl. Being a good few inches or so shorter than I was, she looked up at me with obvious embarrassment.

“Tell me that sound is from hunger and not that you are going to upchuck or anything. I don’t want to have to wash and vacuum the seats.”

“Finn Murphy!” She smacked me straight on my bicep.

It took me by surprise—the sudden action, the force of the blow, and the fact she even remembered my name. I actually stumbled on one foot. “Youch. You’ve got a mean right hook.”

“Sorry,” she immediately apologized. “Bad habit.”

With the Jeep just a few steps away, I pressed the key fob and debated about opening the door for her. No. No, I told myself. This wasn’t a date. Geez. God. She … no.

“C’mon,” I said getting into the car.

Once we were in and started down the road, I heard her tummy rumble again. “Here.” I picked up my phone, hit speed dial number nine, and handed it to Lara. “Order a large. I’m feeling mushrooms and sausage, but get whatever you want on your half. Do you know Olivia’s address? Have it delivered.”

She shook her head as if startled. “I do but—Oh, uh, hi,” she switched from speaking with me to the person on the other end of the phone at Pizza Pit Stop.

“A large with mushrooms, sausage …” I prompted.

She repeated my words and then said, “and the other half . . . just plain, I guess.”

Plain. Hmmm. Nope. Not plain at all. But, I didn’t know what type of pizza would best describe Lara Faulkner. Maybe one where the sauce was on top of the cheese, because she was so damn confusing.

When she got off the phone, she said to me, “I don’t have any money.”

“I didn’t ask you for any. My treat. Anything so your stomach quits distracting me. It doesn’t even have a good tempo.”

She laughed quickly then. And I did, too. It was a nice change and feeling.

“So,” I asked wanting to keep our conversation going and light. “What were you all doing, anyway? Where were you going when Bambi gave you the little detour?”

“Bambi.” She tilted her head back to the head rest and let out a sigh. “Oh, geez, like I don’t already feel bad enough.”

When she didn’t offer any more, I bit. “Why?  The deer is fine, and you weren’t driving the car.”

“No, but I’m the whole reason we were in the car in the first place.” She paused again. It didn’t seem like it was her natural inclination to give out information. When I made a point of looking her direction, though, she continued. “My laptop . . . it was freaking out. And since it is under warranty, I thought I should take it to the store. And, well, I don’t have a car . . . and Olivia offered.”

“She offered Sam,” I corrected very well knowing how the super couple worked.

“Well, yeah.”

“Can’t do anything apart those two.” I partially grumbled.

Lara looked at me, scrunched her eyes as if in an internal debate and then said, “Siamese.”

Her sarcasm was priceless. She totally got Sam and Olivia. I was glad I wasn’t drinking, because I surely would have spewed liquid out, I laughed so hard. 

“Did you get your computer fixed?” I refocused looking toward her bag.

“Yeah. That’s the worst part.  It was so easy. I could have done it over the phone.”

“Well, that’s good.”

“But, now they’re in the hospital.” Her voice dropped to a more sullen tone. “And the car is a mess. I feel so bad. It’s my fault. I, like, owe him a new car, and I can’t do that.”

“Nope. Unless you’re some kind of undercover celeb, you can’t go buying people cars.” I teased.

“If only.” She shook her head, the blonde hair all bundled up in a bun. “I can’t even buy pizza with my student loans.” She seemed seriously down as we pulled in front of Olivia’s apartment.

“The car will be fine.  That’s what insurance is for. Sam’s family will have it covered.  And, no one was hurt. That’s really what is important.”

“Thanks.” She seemed genuinely grateful for my words. “The least I can do is look after the cats.”

“You’re a rock star just for doing that.”

“Not a cat fan?” she asked as we both exited my Jeep.

“Not at all.” I acknowledged. “Well, except for the Bengals.”

“What?”

“The football team.” I smiled at my own little joke about the team I had grown up supporting.

“Whatever,” she replied, but I could tell she thought it was a little bit funny.

After we got the cats fed and had the pizza box open on the coffee table,  we bonded a little more over cheese, sauce, and how suckered Sam was by Olivia. I found myself telling her about my music—about booking gigs and the jittery excitement I had felt the first time I sang an original piece in public. She mentioned how her family had moved around a lot in her childhood but settled near Pittsburgh, and also how she liked to read an entire novel all in one day.

It was when I was telling her that I far more preferred poetry and lyrics that I noticed her nose was beginning to look like Rudolph’s. With due cause, too, because she had been rubbing it like a crazy woman for most of our time at the apartment. Turns out, she had a pretty nasty cat allergy and really needed to get out of the environment.

It was a shame. I think we probably would have stayed and talked a little bit longer. But, I drove her back to her dorm, just a small hill down from mine, and found myself wondering if I was now going to be able to get her off my mind.

No. Nope. Not . . . a . . . chance.

It was odd. I didn’t know exactly what I was feeling. I just knew I wanted to know more about her. She intrigued me—that mix of sassiness, innocence, and realistic outlook on life.

So, once Sam and Olivia started healing, I found ways to manipulate it so we would go out together as a group. Mostly, it was a bunch of us co-eds. But, a couple times, it was just the four of us—Sam, Olivia, Lara, and I.

As I got to know her better, I began to realize what I had first thought of as stuck-up behavior was more of a mask or a shield to protect herself. From what, though, I didn’t know. But I wanted to. Her defenses were evident in her dry humor and the fact that she hardly ever smiled. You had to look for it … know it. There was something so sad and pure about her. I wanted to show her things and protect her. She was like a country song come to life.

On Tuesdays, Sam and Lara had class together. My economics course, which took place at the same time, was just down the corridor. So, the three of us would often meet up afterward. One Tuesday, while Sam was steps away on a private phone conversation with Olivia, Lara and I were left alone. It gave me the perfect opportunity to ask her a question that had been swirling around in my mind.

 “I read about this hush-hush preview of that new sci-fi film. You know, the third one in the Star Alignment series. And a couple of the actors will be there signing autographs.”

“Really?” Her cheeks rose and her eyes brightened like I’d hoped they might. Lara seemed to like the techy and escapism stuff. Plus, there was a touch of romance in the movie, which all girls fell for.

“Yep. Something about it having been filmed nearby. You wanta go?”

“Yeah,” she beamed again. “Let me ask Liv and Sam.”

My head surely must have jerked back in shock, because inviting others along wasn’t the point. It wasn’t the plan. I wanted to actually do this … try this with her. It was already taking much longer than with most girls, but that was okay, because Lara seemed different.

“They don’t have to come,” I interceded. “I doubt Olivia will want any part of it. Let’s just go . . . the two of us.”

“No, we have to ask them,” she insisted.

With incredibly poor timing, Sam was once again at our side. “Ask who what?”

After repeating the movie details to our mutual friend, Lara concluded with, “So, you and Olivia want to go, right?”

I shook my head behind Lara willing Sam to understand that I wanted a definite ‘no’ from camp Oliviam. The combination of their names was something I didn’t do in front of Sam and Olivia, but I did very much enjoy it in my own brain. But, just as he was oblivious to my nickname, he was equally so with my attempt to squash the idea of a foursome. Of … freaking … course.

“God, yeah,” Sam said. “Let’s go. I bet we can get a whole crew.”

Lara smiled and turned to me. “It’s gonna be so cool.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What? You don’t want to?” She noted my solemn disposition instantly. “It was your idea.”

“No. I do.”

“You don’t seem like it,” she objected.

“Sorry. Yeah, I do.” I ran my hand through my hair and brushed it off my forehead.

“Good. It wouldn’t be the same without you.” There was that subtle smile again—the rare kind she gave. Her smile and words made me feel a little more wanted and a little less rejected.

“I’m heading up the hill,” I spoke of the area where our dorms were. “Want a lift?”

“Sure,” she agreed.

We said good-bye to Sam, who had another class, and made our way to my red Jeep. I was glad to have the extra time alone with her. I wanted to try to broach the date subject again.

As we neared her dorm, I slowed down and suggested, “You know, it would have been fine if Sam and Olivia didn’t want to go. We could have still went.”

“Yeah, yeah, I guess,” she said. “But it all worked out.”

“We could, though, sometime,” I felt like I was stumbling around like an idiot. “Just the two of us.”

“Yeah, I guess.” She shrugged her shoulders and went for her passenger door handle. “Thanks for the ride, Finn.”

“Uh-huh. Right.”

We did go to the movie gig. And despite going with a bunch of people, it was a nice time. Lara liked the special effects of the film. I liked the soundtrack and conversing with the actors. Sam and Olivia ended up arguing about something—something stupid and petty. They always did that and would make up almost as instantly. But, it took away from the evening as Lara and I had to console the couple and take sides.

After I dropped a pouting Olivia off at her apartment, I drove Lara to her dorm. As she exited the back of the Jeep, I started to get out the front. “I’ll make sure you get in okay,” I offered. Even though she didn’t look at our outing as a date, I liked thinking of it that way.

“The door is like ten feet away,” she plopped her hand on my car door to keep it steady and shut.

“The door is ten feet away, Dude.” Sam, the worst wingman ever, chimed in next to me. He was going to stay over at our frat house instead of the place he normally rested his head … Olivia’s apartment.

“I’m fine,” Lara claimed and hopefully did not hear me sigh. “Thanks for setting this up. It was fun. Well…” she leaned in a little closer, and, for a split second, I foolishly thought she was going to kiss me. But, of course, she just wanted to whisper so Sam wouldn’t hear. “Well, except for Mr. and Mrs. Drama.” And, with that, she shook her head, turned, and walked into the split-level house that was her dorm.

Once I got back to my room, I texted Lara a picture of the famous drama masks accompanied by my message of: Sam’s already on the phone w/her.

She sent me back a picture of an eye-roll. I literally laughed out loud. The night may not have turned out the way I would have liked, but it was still worth it.

I suggested a couple other times, shortly after our movie outing, that Lara and I do something together. But, she was either busy or we went out as a group. I got the ‘it wasn’t going to happen’ point rather quickly. What I didn’t understand was why it couldn’t. The irony was, after all, when we did go out with friends, she and I pretty much hung out exclusively and joked and talked, anyway. But, I learned to accept that we had definitely entered the friend zone. And, for whatever reason, I knew Lara wanted and liked it that way. It wasn’t necessarily what I wanted. But I guess it could have been worse.

As much of a friendship as we had, though, I never saw her get really emotional. She never cried. Not even when I thought for sure she would—on the day when she heard the devastating news. I knew I would have. I would have been absolutely crushed. I would have been destroyed if it had been me.

She literally bumped right into me when I entered her dorm to check on her. “Finn.”

“Hey,” I replied softly.

“My dad died.” She was blunt and controlled but quiet.

“Yeah, I know. I was with Sam when you called looking for Liv.”

“Oh.” She backed up a mini-step and started playing with some coins in her hand.

“I thought I’d come see you since Olivia is at her internship thing.”

“Yeah, I forgot she was there.”

“Lar, what happened … with your dad?”

“It was an ATV accident.” She had the slightest look of disgust on her face, and her voice turned harsher. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

It was then I realized, besides the basics, she never really talked about her family. “You sure?”

“Finn. . .” Her voice dropped off and was much softer.

It made me want to hold her . . . need to hold her. I wanted to take all of her pain away. So, I did. I just wrapped my arms around her. And, miraculously, she let me. She was usually so reserved and not wanting any kind of help. So, it took me by surprise. But, in a good way. It felt like we were in a cocoon where only I could shelter her from the pain of the outside world—like I was the one friend she needed.

“You’re going home, then?” I asked from above her head and behind her back.

“Yeah. My brother is on his way.” She broke our embrace. “I was just going to get something to drink from the machine.”

It startled me a little. She was back to being brave, strong, and more remote. But, since I had gotten to know Lara better, I realized it was just her way. She was good at putting up emotional walls.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she answered in a simple and distracted way. And then she did something else which was typical Lara—she changed the subject. “I thought you were going home this weekend. Shouldn’t you be heading out?”

“I will.”

“Louisville is a few hours away. You should probably get going.”

“Lara, you and your promptness.” I smiled and teased. “It’s only my mom’s birthday. It doesn’t matter if I’m late. She’ll be happy I’m even there. I can stay with you until your brother or Olivia gets here.”

“Yeah?” Once again, she had that endearing ‘Lara’ vulnerability about her.

“For sure.”

She nodded her appreciation. “I’m kind of cold. I’m gonna go get a warmer top. I’ll meet you in the lounge?”

“What about your drink?”

“Huh?”

“The coins?”

“Oh, can you get it for me?” She handed me the money.

“Yeah. What do you want?”

“Doesn’t matter.” She started to turn but paused and said, “Thanks, Finn.”

“Lara . . .” I started to ask her again how she was, but I knew she wouldn’t give me much, so I said instead, “you got it.”

Olivia and Sam arrived shortly after, and her brother, Lane, wasn’t too far behind them. Being up all night, making fast airline arrangements from his home on the east coast, and then driving to get her was evident in his appearance and demeanor. Lara’s brother had dark circles under his eyes, and his voice sounded worn when he told her they needed to leave for their road trip to Pittsburgh. In response, I gave Lara a short hug, and she gave me her blink of a smile back. And then she was gone.

I was drunk when I met Audrey. It was during my mother’s birthday weekend in Louisville. I was visiting a high school buddy of mine at the University of Louisville. We were drinking beer, doing some shots, and I was trying not to look at my phone to see if Lara had replied to my text wondering how she was doing.

So, when a redheaded co-ed appeared at my side and asked me to dance, I readily accepted. I loved to dance. I loved to sing. I loved everything about music. And, I needed the extra distraction the alcohol hadn’t secured. Audrey was a good dancer … and, it turned out, a good kisser. That dance and that kiss kept me in the moment and, in the long run, helped me move on.

Audrey was the epitome of what I was looking for in a girl—we had similar interests and goals, and she was outgoing. We ended up seeing one another at least every other weekend as I made the effort to drive to Louisville and spend time with her. And, my friendship with Lara was still intact. So, it all seemed to work out for a reason.

Adding to the contentment of my personal life, I also had fantastic news professionally.

Days before graduation, I found out I’d been selected for a coveted internship at a major record label. It was so surreal and so unbelievably life changing, I could hardly stand it.

My friend, Decan, and I decided to celebrate our impending graduation and futures on a night shortly after I heard the exciting news. Of course, the celebration included a bit more alcohol than we probably should have had. But, we were both friendly, happy drunks. So, it was all good.

When we decided to call it a night, I helped walk Decan back to his co-ed dorm, because that’s what ‘bros’ are for, after all. The front door of the split-level house swung open dramatically as if a royal queen was making a grand entrance. We both laughed at the action and launched sloppily up the stairs.

When I heard her voice, it startled me. I hadn’t expected anyone to be sitting there in the second floor living area. But, there she was on the blue sofa, looking right at us.

“Hello, boys.”

“Lara . . . Hello.” I managed to string two words together while still supporting Decan.

“What are you two doing?” She shook her head and put her hand up to cover her mouth as if holding in laughter.

“Decan here is being all poli-sci guy. We were tossing the pigskin around ala Kennedy. He’s trying to drum up business.”

“You were playing football, now?” She emphasized the last word in obvious reference to the late-night hour.

“Yep,” I answered holding in a giggle.

“Here, Lara.” Decan gave Lara, his housemate, a button with his name on it. “Vote Mickelson for Mayor.”

“That really is so cool, Decan. I can’t believe you’re actually doing this.”

Decan was running for mayor in his hometown. His campaign would be in full force upon graduation. If he won, he’d be the youngest mayor in his town’s history. If he didn’t win, his fall back option was the Navy. With his closely cropped, nearly white hair and circular Harry S. Truman glasses, he fit the part of both and would, without a doubt, succeed in whichever career.

“Uh, Lara, thank you for my vote.” He was still clinging onto me. “Um, your, uh—”

“No new taxes!” I quietly egged him on as Lara went to shut the doors leading to the bedrooms. Maybe we were louder than I’d thought.

“No, no new taxes,” Decan echoed. “Just for the middle class or the lower class or—”

“I’m recording this,” I teased.

“This is my first beer, I swear. I wouldn’t lie to my constituents.” He looked straight at Lara.

“I don’t live in your town or state for that matter,” she said and reclaimed her seat on the sofa. “Besides, I’m not registered.”

The exasperation in my sigh was noticeable and immediate, because I dreaded what was, without a doubt, going to come next. “Oh, boy.”

“What!?!?” Decan bellowed. “You’re not registered to vote?”

I rolled my eyes at Lara as she replied, “No.”

“How can you not be registered?” Decan pulled away from me. “That is your duty, your duty as an American citizen, your right.”

“I just never did. I had a lot going on when it was time to vote and I was eighteen. And now I’m here, away from home—”

“You need to register to vote, Lara. You can get an absentee ballot,” Decan bounced right back. “There’s no excuse. It’s—”

“Hey, Susan B., settle down. Give the girl a break.” I clamped my hand down on Decan’s shoulder trying to mediate between my two friends.

“Pretty good, there, Finnster. Susan B. Anthony did advocate voter’s rights…women’s rights. All the more reason—"

“I do listen sometimes in class, Numb Nuts,” I jabbed.

“Don’t be a hater, man. I gotta bounce, anyway. Going to call the old lady.”

I hated that term for girlfriend and debated on whether to tell the budding politician that he should be a little more politically correct, but I was cut off by Lara. “Good night, Decan.”

While Decan made his way toward his room, I plopped my drunk ass down next to Lara. “Why did you have to provoke him?”

“It’s like one in the morning. I wasn’t thinking.” She curled her mouth up at one side and mockingly shook her head.

Covered by black sweat shorts, she moved her legs so they mimicked mine outstretched on the coffee table. I couldn’t help but think how far we had come since the first time we’d met. She had directed her legs away from me that initial time. And now, it was almost the opposite.

Replaying our first meeting, I offered the red Solo cup in my hand to Lara. “Drink?”

“Neh.”

“Neh?” I spurt out, thinking it was a funny word.

“Not thirsty. Besides, I don’t really like beer. Why drink it if you don’t like it? I could never understand that.”

“You don’t drink too much do you, Lar?” That certainly hadn’t changed.

“I drink,” she sounded offended. But, she didn’t—not like ninety some percent of college kids.

“I’d like to see you drunk. I mean really drunk.” The crazy idea of seeing her let down all of her inhibitions invaded my mind. “I’ll have to take you to the bar some time and line up shots.”

“It wouldn’t affect me. It’s all mind over matter.” She reminded me of a cartoon character the way she tapped her forehead, but I didn’t want to offend her by laughing.

“Not a chance.” I said, instead. “I’d pay to see you drunk. Not buzzed—drunk.”

“Well, it’s not going to happen tonight.”

“Yeah, probably not. More for me, I guess.” I proved it by swallowing another solid swig. “What are you doing out here, anyway?”

“Checking out the scenery, counting the drunk graduates-to-be, thinking how much it sucks that it’s not me.”

“Offer stands. We can get you drunk.” I smiled still amused by the thought of Lara drunk.

“Not the drinking—the graduating.” She laughed and then showed me her visibly swollen thumb. “I got bit by something.”

“Youch! What the hell did that?”

“I don’t know. I guess spider? It actually woke me up. I was sound asleep and felt the pinch. I’m just keeping an eye on it—making sure it doesn’t get any worse. I’m not really anxious to get back into my room.”

“I don’t blame you. That’s nasty.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“Want me to keep you company for a little while?”

“Sure.”

Geez, why did my whole body just react knowing she wanted me to stay? I thought I was past the whole thing between her and I. When I mumbled something about her having to share the blanket, which was casually draped on her legs, I realized what a ‘guy move’ it sounded like, and internally kicked myself.

“You didn’t play tonight?” she asked about my band while wrapping her blanket around the two of us.

“Nope.” I tried to focus on her question and her face instead of her legs and the proximity the blanket created. “We’re done until after graduation. We’re going to do a gig in Pittsburgh, though—early summer. Got it lined up. On the South Side. Is that anywhere near where you live? Maybe you could come—bring some friends.”

“It’s about an hour away. We’ll see.”

“That would be cool.”

“You’re still going to L.A., though, right?” When she leaned her head on my shoulder, I took the final swig of beer.

God help me, I shouldn’t be drinking. I shouldn’t be snuggled up against her. It was wrong. But, damn, it felt right.

“Yeah, at the end of summer,” I managed. “I still can’t believe it. That place is iconic.”

“The best. They had to have really liked the samples you submitted, especially with how steep the competition must have been.”

“Well, it is unpaid grunt work.”

“But, God, there are hundreds of people who would die for the opportunity. It’s your talent.”

“And luck.”

“How about perseverance?” she offered. Lara was always my cheerleader. She poked my arm with her index finger. “It’s going to open doors. I know it will.”

“And, if not, I’ll still have my good ole college degree that the folks wanted. I’ll have something to fall back on and not just, ‘Do you want fries with that.’”

“Finn,” she seemed to tisk, not going along with my self-doubt. “If anyone can do it, you can. You’ll be a big star.”

“God, I—” I stopped myself momentarily and probably should have counted to ten. But, I didn’t. I was feeling too good—too good with impending graduation, the internship, the beer, and her . . . her support and her platinum locks fanning out on me. I went with the moment and gently lifted her head off my shoulder so she had to turn to face me. “Lara,” I said, “if I wasn’t seeing Audrey, would you go out with me?” I felt suddenly intoxicatingly high and stone cold sober at the same time. Even though I pretty much knew and feared the answer—the rejection, I needed to ask the question, anyway.

“Finn . . .” she hesitated.

I filled the empty silence by sliding my lips onto hers. It wasn’t long. It wasn’t the best, but it was a first and something I had wanted to do for a long time.

“We would be good together,” I concluded while looking at . . . searching her eyes.

“You’re drunk.” She was accurate with her first statement but not on her next. “You don’t know what you’re saying.” She didn’t give me a chance to reply. “And, you are seeing Audrey. You two will move to the West Coast, and you’ll forget all about me.”

“I doubt it,” I admitted out loud.

Needing one last touch, I concentrated on carefully bringing my forehead to Lara’s. But this time, our lips wouldn’t meet. That was it. It had to be.

I patted her leg. “Night night, sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite.” I think I managed a smile before getting up, walking down those stairs, and exiting back into the coolness of the dark night.

“Ugh—the light. Why is it so bright?” I squinted my eyes and threw my forearm across them.

I felt like I was in a vacuum. There was a low buzzing sound in my ears. No, it was more like my head.

When I finally adjusted to my surroundings, I realized I was in my bed. The sheets were tousled and thrown. The pillows laid haphazardly on the floor. I could hear some of my fraternity brothers talking in the nearby lounge. I could tell it was probably closer to mid-day than morning by the slightest ray of light that beamed a little too brightly through the crack in the window’s drapes. My stomach swished a little. And then I remembered. I remembered the night before.

“Oh, geez. Oh, God. Lara,” I mumbled to myself.

What had I been thinking? Why had I kissed her? I knew ‘us’ wasn’t going to happen. I hadn’t even felt that way for a while … since Audrey and I had become serious. Or, was there some validity to alcohol being a truth serum?

It didn’t matter, though. In the light of day—the obnoxious bright light of day—it didn’t matter at all. Everything was back to how it had been. Well, besides my head. That still needed the help of pain meds or at least water.

As I slowly recovered from my hangover by lounging around the frat house and trying to write some tunes, it bothered me more and more what had happened the night before. I had regrets. It wasn’t so much about the kiss itself, but the fear that I could have offended her or changed our friendship in any way.

Sometime after dinner, I sucked it up, ran my hands through my hair, put on my ‘big boy pants,’ and ventured down to her dorm. The place was practically empty, as underclassman had started going home for the summer, and the others were, no doubt, at one of the local establishments. Lara wouldn’t be at either, though. I knew that. I knew her.

Sure enough, I found her in her room. Her door was half-way open, and she was lying on her bed with her back to me. There were only two elements of light—her active, tiny television set and her red lava lamp bubbling away in her window.

I smiled and softly chuckled at the latter of the two. It gave me my opening. “Lar-a, you don’t have to put on the red light. Lar-a,” I sang the famous Police song changing ‘Roxanne’ to her name.

It had been an ongoing joke between the two of us. The lava lamp had instantly sparked the song in my head when I had first seen it in her room months before. Lyrics often invaded my mind like that. It made my family crazy when I was growing up. But the irony of those particular words in connection to my blonde, co-ed friend was downright hysterical. Associating Lara Faulkner with prostitution and the red-light district was completely out of the realm of sane possibilities.

“Lara?” I tried again, this time without singing, but she didn’t move. “Lara?”

I didn’t venture any further than the initial doorway of her room. Again, it was a respect thing . . . ‘a raised up right’ thing. She didn’t turn around. In fact, she didn’t move. Of course, I knew she was breathing. The slight rise and fall of her back had changed when I had first sung out her name. Was she sleeping? I wasn’t sure. She could have been. But, something … Was she purposefully blowing me off? Was that it?

God, I knew it. I had really messed up. Only days until graduation, and I had screwed up my friendship with Lara. She not only didn’t want to kiss me, but she didn’t even want to talk to me, or even acknowledge my presence.

I retreated from her doorway and proceeded straight to Fat Boys—the nearest campus bar. I pounded a few beers and sang ‘Rhiannon’ in a drunk sort of way before making my way back to the area which housed both my fraternity and Lara’s dorm. The red light was now off in her window—extinguished. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and called who I should have been thinking of in the first place … Audrey.

“Okay, Pop,” I said in response to my father who wanted to make sure he and my mom got to spend some time with me on my special day. With the graduation ceremony having just finished, I was officially a man, and I had been bouncing, with Audrey at my side, from person to person. “I’ll meet you at the main gates in a few.”

When I turned around, I found myself smack in front of Lara. My stomach did a quick flopping motion just like those first few seconds or so when I would step on any stage. Her turquoise eyes met mine, and I felt it. It wasn’t my imagination. We were both thinking of that kiss on the couch. Geez, and now I was standing in front of her unable to say anything . . . unable to apologize or offer an explanation. I couldn’t—not with Audrey right there next to me.

Lara broke the strange awkwardness by removing an envelope from her purse. When she handed it to me, I released Audrey’s hand. Unleashing the seal, I pulled out a simple graduation card with a McDonald’s gift card inside.

“For your long drive to La La Land,” she explained. “I figured there’s always a Mickey D’s somewhere to stop at along the way. You can get coffee, or a sundae, or those Grimace cookies—just no fries with that.” I smiled as she joked about the comment I’d made that night on the couch.

“Thanks.” I tucked the cards back inside the envelope. “And no. No fries.” When a bit of awkward silence followed, I asked, “Do they still make those cookies?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” She looked to Audrey as if she could provide the correct answer.

The visual of the two girls standing in front of one another made me realize they had never met. Audrey had been on our campus only once, and we had kept pretty much to ourselves that weekend. And, I liked it that way. Standing there now, I wasn’t too keen on them getting to know one another then, either. Lara, I was sure, knew who Audrey was because of me talking about her and some pics I had. But Audrey? No. It didn’t go both ways.

“I don’t know. I don’t really eat at McDonald’s.” Audrey’s reply drew me back to the legit topic at hand.

Well, that was true. Audrey was not the fast food type. She always dressed and groomed herself to perfection. She presented herself in the role she wanted as a career—a television news anchor or something in the media business. So, sticky booths and bouncy kids were not the ideal eating locale for her. Plus, I knew she watched her weight. She was a typical salad date whenever we went out. The camera puts on extra pounds, after all.

“I’ll see you before L.A., though,” I said as I felt Audrey stroke and reclaim my hand.

“Huh?” Lara’s nose scrunched up in confusion.

“The big wedding.” I couldn’t help it, I rolled my eyes.

Sam and Olivia were wasting no time and planned to get married that August. Even though I could have laid down bets the marriage wouldn’t last, I’d kept my mouth shut and agreed to be one of Sam’s groomsmen. The upside? Lara was one of Olivia’s bridesmaids.

“Of course. How could I forget?” Her sarcasm was apparent and mirrored my thoughts to a T. Lara and I had, after all, had many head-shaking conversations about Sam and Olivia’s engagement.

“And the gig in Pittsburgh,” I reminded Lara.

“Oh, right. Yeah. Send me the details. I’ll see.” She didn’t seem so sure, though. Her response was very hesitant. And, sadly, I wondered if our friendship was witnessing one of its last moments.

I grasped onto Audrey’s hand tighter. She was my future. She was the person I was moving to California with and the girl I loved. And, I did. I truly did.

Lara gave me the most innocent and sweet smile before saying, “Bye, Finn.”

Opting for a less definitive farewell, I reached out my hand. “See ya, Lara.” But she had already turned and walked away.

That first month post collegiate world? Boy, no one prepares you for that. If leaving home for the first time when entering college was scary, after college was ten times worse. The world was no longer mapped out for you. You weren’t surrounded constantly with friends and fun. It was downright frightening and a little depressing.

The good thing was, I had anchors in my life. One, of course, was my family. They always kept me grounded. And the other was the internship, which gave me a direction in which to start my new life.

Audrey, having also just graduated, was experiencing a lot of the same things I was. The difference was, she didn’t have anything lined up as far as a job. She was making the move to California with me and hoping to find something once we got there. Los Angeles was the media mecca, after all. Her parents, though, weren’t happy about her moving so far away without any stability whatsoever.

I don’t want to say that was what influenced my decision, but I do think it moved the timeline along at a quicker pace than I had planned. If I had to do it all over again, I would have given more thought when selecting the sparkler. I would have talked with her family. I would have made it more memorable. But, it was almost like it was a rite of passage. It was the next step. That was what you were supposed to do—high school, college, job . . .

I wasn’t nervous when I proposed. It just kind of happened. I had the ring—a small diamond with a simple, gold band. I had actually been thinking about what I wanted to say when she told me she was anxious about moving to California. So, I said, ‘Would this help?’ And, just like that, Audrey and I were engaged.

Audrey was happy, and I was, too. Actually, I was more than happy. I had found a third anchor. I knew I loved her and wanted her with me, but knowing we had a commitment gave me a sense of contentment and security I hadn’t felt since graduating.

It showed in my music, too, as I became more and more energized with each gig that summer. The show in Pittsburgh was at a local bar. There was a fantastic piano player on before us who had the packed crowd already on their feet by the time we hit the stage. I loved the audience’s energy, although I couldn’t see most of them because the lights were low and there was a balcony section. I did hear their voices sing along, though, and saw the cellphone lights swaying.

When one of those lights tilted toward a person in the audience, it highlighted her face. Standing quite a few tables back was Lara. She had come after all. When we had spoken at graduation and I had texted her earlier in the week, it had seemed doubtful she would come. So, this—she—was a complete surprise. I did a quick smile in her direction but didn’t break my performer mode. It felt like forever since I had last seen her, yet it had only been a couple months—a couple months where so much had already changed.

After the final note was played, I made my way to the small lobby area to meet Audrey. But, I also found Lara and another girl who looked to be about our age. Lara was complimenting Audrey’s ring when I saddled up beside my fiancé and gave her a quick kiss on the top of her head.

“Lar,” I said then. “I’m so glad . . . shocked,” I amended and then continued, “but glad you’re here.”

She pointed to her shorter brunette friend, “Nan made me do it.”

A small smile accompanied her obvious effort to joke, but neither came off quite right. She seemed a little unsure . . . more like the Lara I had first met. Well, besides her physical get-up. She wore more make-up than her usual, casual look. It was darker and heavier. And her clothes were more form fitting than I was used to seeing her in. She looked nice, but she didn’t really need any of it. Maybe it was her new concert look. I tossed the thought aside and gave her a hug. Her response was a tight grasp around my torso followed by a quick release almost immediately.

“Congratulations,” she swapped her eyes back and forth from Audrey to me.

“Thanks,” I beamed, coming off the high of performing to a receptive crowd and having my fiancé by my side. “Audrey and I were going to head straight back to Louisville, but if you want to grab a drink or something…”

“Neh.”

I almost laughed again at that little nonsense word. But, I didn’t, because it still meant ‘no.’ I should have guessed Lara would have passed on the drinking, but I still hoped she would have at least wanted to catch up.

“It could be coffee.” I offered a ‘Lara’ alternative.

She shook her head. “No. Gotta get home myself. I guess I’ll see you in a couple weeks.”

“We’ll be there,” I acknowledged Sam and Olivia’s nuptials. “Lara,” I said a little slower. “Seriously, thanks for coming. It means a lot.”

“Yeah.”

She probably thought I was referring to the support all up-and-coming artists needed. But it wasn’t just that. It was the fact I realized I hadn’t lost her as a friend. She had come. I hadn’t screwed everything up. Despite not having a chance to actually talk about it, there didn’t seem to be any lasting negative effects from our kiss. Thank goodness, because that truly would have meant a country song kind of ending.

Sam and Olivia’s wedding took place in Sam’s hometown in West Virginia—not too far from campus. It was an intimate, simple affair. Sam didn’t have a big family and Olivia’s was a hot mess who either didn’t attend or were arguing. There wasn’t a rehearsal at the chapel, but there was a rehearsal dinner the night before. It was a genuine pig roast at Sam’s parent’s home in the country. The backroad, casual style definitely turned some heads and tilted some beer bottles.

I caught Lara alone in the downstairs game room when I went in to use the bathroom. “Hey,” I joined her as she looked at the family photos displayed on the wall.

“Hi.” She seemed so withdrawn and had been so for most of the evening.

“Haven’t really gotten a chance to talk with you. What’s up? Whatcha think of this whole deal?” I bumped her in the shoulder in a friendly way and rolled my eyes at the fiasco called a wedding.

I expected her to go along with what had been our regular banter about Sam and Olivia, but she didn’t . . . at all. “It’s fine.”

“Lara . . .” I called out as she started to walk away. “What are you . . . where are—”

She swiveled back around. “They’re getting married. Let it be.” Again, it was said in such a mellow way but also with determination.

“I was just—” I was going to say ‘teasing,’ but she cut me off.

“Finn, everyone makes decisions and commitments, and you have to respect that. That’s what I have to do.”

“I know. Geez.”

She exhaled in a staggered, attempt-at-calming kind of way. “I’ll see you outside.”

While I used the bathroom, I kept replaying her words. What was with the switch in attitude towards the ‘happy couple’s’ impending nuptials? And why so serious? It made me wonder if more was going on. But what? Was it even about Sam and Olivia? Lara Faulkner was still so confusing to me.

When I returned to the bonfire, there were only a few of us remaining. After switching the tunes, Sam’s brother, Parker, sat down next to Lara on one of the built-in benches. I, simultaneously, sat across from them and next to Audrey. When Parker started talking about the song as if he was an authority on the music business, I was instantly annoyed. But, in contrast, Lara seemed to be taken in by the know-it-all. She certainly was listening quite intently to his opinion on not only the subject of music but virtually everything else.

“Why if you sit any closer to her, you’ll need to get some protection.” Sam’s voice surged into my thoughts, and I realized he was talking to me and how my legs were intertwined with Audrey’s and my hands were holding her snug.

She, in turn, had her hands on mine right where her breasts met her waist. “You are quite affectionate,” Audrey cooed echoing Sam’s thoughts.

“Just like to be close to you,” I responded. “We’re planning a wedding, too.” Admittedly, it came out a little defensive. I seemed to have critics suddenly surrounding me.

Lara’s yawn was long and a bit dramatic. It, and the fact that she started to get up, caught me by surprise. “I’m going to get going,” she announced.

“First yawn,” I noted. “It doesn’t count.”

The look she gave me was coated with curiosity, and I couldn’t figure out why. Yes, I noticed. I paid attention to things.

I didn’t have time to debate or question any more, though, because Audrey chimed in. “I’m getting tired, too.”

“I’m screwed,” I let out a sigh and placed my half-empty beer bottle down. So much for fun times around the bonfire.

“You hope,” Audrey giggled and leaned a little further into me.

I realized then what I had said and how she had interpreted it. I shook my head and tugged on her hand, standing both of us up. “I guess we’re outta here.” I suggestively lifted my eyebrows twice and pushed everything about that night away. The motel and my fiancé were calling.

Poor Sam. He had tears in his eyes as the two of us stood in the groom’s room before the big event. I guess I would have, too, if I was facing a life with Olivia.

I was kind, though, when I offered my support. “What’s going on, Man?” I asked. “What’s going on in that crazy Sam head of yours?”

“Nothing,” he said. “Just happy and excited.” He went macho then and subtly wiped his eyes before turning the question on me. “What was going on with you last night?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know. You were acting weird, and Lara was too.”

“No, I wasn’t,” I denied. “But, yeah, Lara was for sure, huh?”

“Women . . .”

Sam shook his head mockingly as Parker and their dad entered the room. Things were ready to become real for my friend. Life, in fact, was definitely starting to be real for all of us.

When Lara walked up the aisle after the little flower girl, the bow tie on my tux strained as my neck extended forward and my mouth dropped open. It wasn’t the two-piece, red dress she was wearing. She looked stunning, of course. But, geez, it was her hair. What had she done to those long locks? I had seen her less than twenty-four hours before and . . . and . . . sheez. What did she do?

Now, standing across from me, I couldn’t help but stare at her. I couldn’t say anything, though, of course. It was the middle of a wedding ceremony, and we were all supposed to be looking at the next person coming up the aisle—the bride herself.

All during the short service, I was formulating what I was going to say to her. I knew I had to be careful. Girls didn’t fare well with even the slightest, tiniest comment about their clothes, makeup, hair, whatever. Audrey was like that, and I knew Lara would be, too. But, I also knew I couldn’t let it go. I scripted my words in my head like I was writing a song.

After the ‘I dos,’ I extended my arm out for her as we made our way back down the aisle. I waited until we got to the last pew before I whispered, “Rapunzel, what happened? Did the witch find you out?”

She kind of snorted her laugh. That’s good, I thought to myself. She was going to take it in the lighthearted way I had intended it to be.

“Someday my prince will come,” she replied, and we continued to walk toward the connecting banquet hall where the reception would take place.

“Why, Lar?” I asked as we entered the room. “I mean, it’s nice,” I tried. “But, wow, it’s so short.”

Her hair wasn’t past her shoulders any more. In fact, it wasn’t even near her shoulders. It barely grazed her chin. She haphazardly tucked a piece behind one ear and said, “I needed a change. You guys are all changing, and since I still have to be in school, I wanted a change, too.”

“Hmmm,” I mumbled as Parker and Olivia’s cousin, the other bridesmaid, joined us at the elongated, white table meant just for the bridal party.

In a few minutes, the room was filled with guests, family, and the newly married couple. Almost immediately, Olivia and Sam started their first dance as man and wife and then they announced for the wedding party to join them. I grasped Lara’s hand and we strolled onto the dance floor.

She was fine for a moment or two until I drew her a little more closely toward me. “This whole lady in red thing reminds me of your lamp, Roxanne.”

She pulled slightly away and signaled for Audrey to join us. When my fiancé did, Lara said, “Here, dance with him. I hate it. You two should.”

“You sure?” Audrey asked Lara and then looked inquisitively at me.

“Lar?”

“Enjoy.” Her lips twitched up quickly. “I’m on a mission, anyway.”

“What? What mission?” I wanted to understand her out-of-the-blue motion to extract herself from the dance floor.

But, I wouldn’t get an answer. The switch had been made. Audrey was now snug and comfortable in my arms. She loved to dance—slow, fast, it didn’t matter. And, I loved dancing with her. But, I couldn’t help being concerned about Lara’s abrupt exit.

Olivia got all pissy when Lara wasn’t around for the garter and flower-throwing thing. Reigning in my instant desire to tell her off, I instead told the bride I would find Lara. I wanted to, anyway. I needed to see what was going on with her—the mood, the hair, the leaving during the dance. It bothered me. I took a hard swallow of my bourbon mix and set out to search for Lara who was still, I guess, on her self-proclaimed mission.

When I found her, she was outside. She was straightening the spaghetti strap on her red dress and looking at Sam’s white car. After the accident, he had gotten a new vehicle, but this one was still a junker.

“Lara, why are you—”

“Ahhh!” she screeched and nearly jumped a mile, turning around to face me. “Finn! You scared me.”

“Sorry.” I shrugged my shoulders. “What are you doing out here?” I asked but then saw her handiwork—a ‘Just Married’ sign was draped on the car. “That’s cool.” I commended. “I didn’t know people still did that. Let’s hope Olivia appreciates it. She’s kind of pissed right now you’re not inside.”

“What are you doing out here? You should be inside.” Her clipped tone made me bend slightly and focus more on her eyes. They weren’t filled with tears, but it was something close. There was definitely sadness and pain in them.

And, it just about killed me. “Lara…”

“You should be with Audrey.” She looked down.

“Audrey can take of herself.” I took a mini-step closer. Audrey could take care of herself, and I knew Lara normally could, too. But, at that moment, she seemed so lost.

“But she’s who—”

“Audrey is dancing with Sam’s great uncle.” I interjected.

The immediate crinkle between Lara’s eyebrows displayed her obvious curiosity regarding the odd dance duo. I smiled the best I could considering my concern for the girl in front of me. Besides, I truly had nothing to be jealous of with Sam’s geriatric family member.

“She caught the bouquet and he got the garter,” I explained.

It was good to hear Lara’s instant breath come out and see her hand go up to her lips to stop herself from laughing. But, just as quickly, her reaction changed. She, oh my God, was crying.

“Lar,” I stuck out my hand a little dumbfounded. “Lara, what’s … Gosh, what’s wrong?”

“Go.” She turned from me, actually putting her hand up to her face as a barrier between the two of us.

I didn’t want to make things worse or embarrass her, but I was not going to leave. I couldn’t. “No.” I said softly but confidently and stepped into her line of vision again.

“Finn!” She was more adamant and still refusing to look at me.

“Lara, what? What did I do?”

“You made me—” And she halted her own words.

“What?” What?

“You made me …” This time it was more of a pause, and I let the empty air hang until she came up with a concluding word. “Think.” She finally looked up to meet my eyes.

“Sorry?” I offered not exactly sure what I made her ‘think’ about. But, whatever it was, it must have been bad. “Think about what?”

“Never mind. It doesn’t matter. You need to just leave.”

I shook my head. “No. Not happening.”

She took a staggered but, seemingly, calming breath. “I’m gonna miss all of this.” Her voice cracked. She sounded and looked so damn vulnerable—more than I had ever seen her. “I’m gonna miss all of you guys. I didn’t realize how much. I guess I should have at your graduation. But maybe it was because, in the back of my mind, I knew this—the wedding—was still coming.”

Her words went straight to my heart. They were so true. They were so dead on. She nailed what I hadn’t let myself truly acknowledge.

“Well, that’s all the more reason for you to actually be inside with us,” I shook my head in a joking way hoping to lighten the mood.

“You think?” She followed my lead and jested back while pressing her index fingers under her eyes and subtly wiping.

“Uh…yeah.” I lightly pushed her bare shoulder, as if we were innocent children playing a game of tag.

“I still don’t like dancing, though,” she restated and gave me a similar shove back.

I rolled my eyes but let the topic of dancing drop. Just knowing that she wasn’t as upset or mad anymore and that she was going to rejoin us was enough. It was more than.

“Lara,” I took her hand. “I’m gonna miss you, too. And, we’ll keep in touch.” Not wanting to let the tidal wave of sentimentality, which had suddenly pushed through me, show, I teased, “Who else is going to help me with my webpage design once I’m all Mr. Rockstar?”

“All your richy peeps.” She smiled, and I pulled her into my side before we made our way back into the celebration.

Those next couple of months flew. I never knew busy like the time when Audrey and I first moved to our studio apartment in Burbank. She got a job as a page at one of the networks and worked practically non-stop. And I was loving my internship at the record label. I was learning so much in addition to networking and speaking with people who spoke my music language. Besides the minimal money we made, life was almost too good to be true.

 I didn’t forget about Lara, though. I just didn’t have a lot of time to keep in touch besides an occasional funny text here or there. But I did call her when I was in a McDonalds using her gift card. While munching on a burger, I informed her that the only cookies the restaurant had were circular and not shaped like any characters. She told me I should simply boycott the chain all together then. My laugh was hearty as I admitted that I couldn’t. I would miss the shakes too damn much.

I called her again when I was visiting my family in Louisville during the Christmas holiday. I finally had a chance to breathe and wanted to make sure to acknowledge her December graduation, especially since she hadn’t received any of the fanfare the ‘regular’ graduates who got their degrees in the springtime did. There were no stages and marching unless you wanted to return in May. I knew Lara hadn’t wanted that. She had just wanted to be done.

“Did I miss your graduation, Lar?”

“It wasn’t anything.”

“Sure it was.”

Typical Lara, she switched the topic from her to me. “It’s good to hear from you. Where are you? How are you?” The way she said those words, with a light bounce in her voice, made me know, without actually seeing her, that she was smiling.

After filling her in on my temporary Louisville locale, I told her how the label’s powers-that-be were promoting me to a minimum wage position. It was a spectacular opportunity to continue to learn, grow, and actually make some money. Plus, I added at the end, I was getting a chance to cut a professional single.

She didn’t let my modesty slide . . . at all. “Congratulations! Wow. See, I knew it. It’s gonna happen.”

“We’ll see,” I said not wanting to get my hopes up. After all, there were thousands of people just like me searching for that same spotlight which could only focus on one person.

“How’s Audrey?”

“Good. She actually had to stay in California for the holiday because she’s low-man on the job totem pole. But, she’s good. Give her a wedding project and she forgets about everything else. No date yet, but she pretty much has everything else set. What about you? What are you up to, Miss Graduate?”

“Job hunting, what else?” she answered. “It’s hard. I’m sending out blind resumes and going to do as much temp work as I can in the tech field. I actually just got done with a gig at a retirement home teaching the residents computers 1-0-1.”

“Oh God, that had to be an experience,” I chuckled.

“Yeah, talk about starting from scratch. They had to extend it an additional day just so the senior citizens could understand the basics.”

Fiddling with the personalized ornaments on our huge family Christmas tree, I told her what had immediately popped into my mind. “Those old guys were probably just playing dumb because they all had crushes on you.”

“Right, Finn.” The exasperation in her voice said she didn’t believe me at all.

“I know I’m right,” I declared and wondered if she had started to grow her hair back out again.

No matter what, she was beautiful. She just didn’t see it. While I teetered on asking about her hair, the baby started wailing in the next room.

“You don’t need to cry,” Lara teased across the line. “I’ll talk to you for a while longer.”

“Oh, you’re a funny one. That’s my nephew.”

“Nephew? I didn’t know you had a nephew. Your sister had a baby?”

See, I thought, there are so many things you miss telling someone when you aren’t around them all the time. “Yep. He’s just a couple months old. That kid is a non-stop noise maker!”

“I bet you love him to pieces though, huh?” She suddenly sounded kind of serene.

“Yeah. He’s a keeper.”

Wyatt was. He was a damn cutie. And, as the first grandchild, he had everyone’s hearts immediately.

“That’s important,” she replied in the same soft tone. “Your sister’s happy?”

“Yeah. Yeah. The three of them are doing great.”

“She’s very lucky.”

“I tell her that all the time. She really won the lottery when it came to getting me as a brother,” I teased.

“Finn!” Lara admonished. “You know what I mean.”

“I do. But it’s fun to get that ‘Lara’ reaction from you.”

“Whatever.” I couldn’t see her, but I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, she was rolling her eyes. “I don’t miss your teasing by the way.”

“Yes, you do,” I countered confidently.

“Okay,” she admitted. “Maybe a little.”

“Ditto.” I acknowledged missing her and our easy-going banter. And then we talked about regular, everyday stuff for a little while before hanging up.

***

I had no idea that would be the last time I’d hear her actual voice. It was the last time I had spoken with her. The . . . last . . . time. And, it was my doing. My choice. It had to be that way. Because, shortly after that phone conversation, my world toppled, and turned, and twisted until I was so traumatized I couldn’t even think straight. And I couldn’t bring her into my crazy world. I just couldn’t … for both my sake and for hers. It wouldn’t have been fair.

But now … now it was different. It was years later, and I was different. What would happen if I would actually see her again? After talking with my sister, I was pretty sure I was going to find out. Fate was definitely leading me down that road.

~*~

What made Lara the way she was? Why did Finn suddenly stop talking with her? What happened with Audrey?

Want to read more of Finn and Lara’s story? Be sure to pick up your copy of Country Roads! Coming March 2018, it is the first in a new series by Grea Warner, that follows the lives of reserved Lara Faulkner and country music super star Finn Murphy. Reconnections will be made, revelations will be revealed, and a few tears will be shed.