Chapter Ten
Interval: the distance between two notes
Charlie
Damian’s here. Following us.
The sight of him in the lobby—at once so familiar and so foreign—shocked me, and I haven’t recovered. The same hair, same glasses, same gorgeous mouth and trim frame. But the look on his face was like he’d seen a ghost. Or a celebrity. He used to always look at me with tender affection. Love. Now I’m just a weird stranger, a curiosity, like I am to everyone else.
Gabby drags me to our rental car, never releasing her hold on my arm. Like she knows that if she quits forcing me to move, I’ll freeze again and just stare at Damian.
Whose footsteps I hear catching up to us in the dark.
Gabby takes the keys from my hand and unlocks the car. “I’ll drive, you talk to him,” she mutters low enough so only I can hear her. “Get in the back seat and scoot over.”
I do as she says, leaving the door open for Damian. He hesitates in the open doorway, and I think he might not climb in.
But then he does. The door closes behind him with a sense of finality. We’re alone.
Only for a second, though, because Gabby climbs in the front seat and starts the car.
Silence stretches between us as Gabby navigates out of the parking lot. I don’t know where to look. I keep glancing at Damian, then out the window, then at Gabby. She’s looking out the windshield, paying attention to where she’s going, but I catch her giving us concerned glances in the rearview mirror.
After a moment, she clears her throat. “So, Damian. How’ve you been? How’s your semester going? You have a recital this semester too, right? And I think Lauren told me you finaled in that competition. Which one was it? The Gem State Concerto Competition, right?”
“Yeah.” Damian’s voice is croaky and hoarse, but he clears his throat and says it again. “Yeah. I did. So did Lauren.”
“Yeah, she told me,” Gabby says.
I finally turn and actually look at Damian. “Wow. Congratulations,” I say quietly. “I hadn’t heard. You must be excited.”
His mouth twists as he glances at me then looks straight ahead again. “Thanks. Yeah. I wouldn’t expect you to keep tabs on me. I’m sure you’re busy.”
“If Lauren knew, I thought she would’ve told me,” I mutter, looking out the window, blinking away the sting of tears. I don’t know why his comment about being too busy to keep up with news of him hurts so much, but it does. I should be used to it, though. After he found out who I am, he wanted nothing to do with me. That clearly hasn’t changed.
But if that’s the case, why did he follow us and get in the car?
Turning to face him, I let my frustration bubble to the surface. I’ve tamped it down and kept it at bay long enough. Keeping my emotions in check didn’t help at Gabby’s reception. What do I have to lose now?
“What are you doing here, Damian?”
His head whips around to face me, a passing streetlight illuminating the surprise on his face before the shadows of the back seat close in again. “I could ask you the same thing.”
I snort, crossing my arms and settling against the door. “I came for Lauren’s recital. I should think that was obvious from the fact that I came out of the greenroom after it was over. But I came to support her, not to steal her thunder. So Gabby and I had to miss the reception, and the longer we stayed in the building, the greater the chance of someone barging into the greenroom and finding us.”
“Or us being too loud and someone coming in to find out who’s still in there,” Gabby interjects.
I can’t help smiling. “Yeah. Or that. So that explains our presence. Why did you tell me to wait? And follow us into the car?” I make a gesture at him with one hand, inviting him to answer.
We’ve stopped at a red light, and a bright white streetlamp washes over all of us as we wait for it to turn green. The muscles in Damian’s jaw are working, and his hand is clenched in a fist on the seat between us, and I’m growing more curious than ever to hear his answer.
“I don’t know,” he says finally, the light fading as we pull away from the corner. “I saw you, and I couldn’t … I didn’t …” He trails off, and I wait. Wanting an answer, but not willing to push. I reached out repeatedly over Christmas break, only to be rejected, ignored. I’m not willing to beg. Not anymore.
He lets out an explosive breath. “I miss you.” His hard eyes look me over, seeming to flay skin from bone. “At least the version of you that I knew.”
Gabby visibly bristles at that. “Look, Damian—“
“It’s okay, Gabby,” I interrupt. “He’s allowed his feelings. Even if you think he’s being unfair.”
She catches my eye in the mirror, and I hold her gaze calmly. Much more calmly than I feel, because I want to defend myself too. But that didn’t work before. There’s no reason to expect it to now, even though I love Gabby for wanting to try.
Damian snorts at our exchange, and I look at him again, eyebrows raised.
“Please continue. What version of me are you referring to?”
We’ve stopped in a parking lot somewhere, I don’t know where. But it’s well lit, and I can see Damian clearly now. He looks me over again. “The version of you with dark hair and glasses. The one who was just another student, not some …” He waves a hand at me.
I suck in a breath, getting angry again despite my earlier attempt at calm. “Some what?” I spit. “Some … slut? Some … spoiled rich girl? Some …”
His eyes widen in alarm and dismay. “No! No. God, no,” he interrupts before I can continue supplying endings for him. He shakes his head and takes off his glasses, rubbing his eyes before putting them on again and looking at me, his face softer now, the anger leached away. “No, Charlie,” he continues softly. “None of those things. I’d never think any of that about you.” He looks away and takes a deep breath. “I meant some celebrity who’s miles out of my league.”
“Oh.” It’s the only response I can muster. And now Damian won’t look at me again. His words echo in the space between us, making me more aware than ever of the distance that separates us. Not just physically. For him, I’m no longer the girl he dated and fell for. I’m something—someone—else. Some other. Unknown and separate. Far outside the bounds of his experience.
Whereas I still feel like me. Just Charlie.
“I’m not really any different, you know. I’m the same person. I was never pretending.”
He looks at me again, blinks a few times, and clears his throat. “Really? You weren’t pretending to be a normal college student?”
I lift one shoulder and give him a sad half smile. “I like to think I was a normal college student. At least for a little while.”
Silence descends again, only this time it’s less awkward, less uncomfortable. At least for me.
Gabby clears her throat after a minute. “So, uh, it’s super fun being the third wheel here and all. But can we go somewhere? Back to the hotel or … I dunno. I’m tired of just driving in circles, though, and I don’t know how long you’re planning on hanging out with us, Damian. But I could drop you at the hotel and go find something to do, like go to a movie or something, so you guys can keep talking.”
Damian straightens, coming back to life. “Would you mind taking me back to campus? My car’s there, and I was about to go practice when … well, when I saw you and couldn’t walk away.” He glances at me, then meets Gabby’s eyes in the rearview mirror again. “I really need to practice, though.”
Turning away, I stare out the window, tilting my head back but trying not to make it obvious, hoping the tears will drain down my tear ducts instead of leaking down my face.
“Sure.” Gabby puts the car in drive and heads back to campus. No one says anything after that. I keep my face steadfastly turned toward the window, unable to bear looking at him after being soundly rejected.
Again.
I feel so stupid.
I thought I’d pushed him out of my mind enough that I was starting to get over him. Sure, the gamut of emotions I experienced with him fueled a lot of my songwriting experiments. Some of them even sound good. But I’d convinced myself that channeling my feelings wasn’t the same as being stuck in them still.
Now, seeing him again, having him chase after me …
Well, I thought maybe he’d had time to get over his hurt. At least enough to listen.
I’d hoped.
But no. He’s still as stuck as I am.
Even though he says he misses me, he still wants nothing to do with me. Not really.
“Stop here.” His voice cuts through the silence, and Gabby pulls over at a corner about a block away from the music building. “Thanks.” There’s a pause, and he takes a breath, but then the door opens and closes without another word from him.
Closing my eyes, I force myself to accept that he’s rejected me again. And I’m not going to let myself believe it’ll ever be any different. No matter how much I might wish it were.