Crescendo

Chapter 21

Cameras flashed as we left the photo booth, putting on our best publicity faces. Daniel had orchestrated all our public appearances, and it didn't surprise me that he turned our arcade night into another photo opportunity.

Daniel grabbed my hand, providing plenty of magazine fodder, before guiding me through the cluster of photographers waiting past the velvet curtain. We moved through the building, leaving the arcade behind, and entering the foyer beside the exit. He smiled at me, pausing in front of the prize store.

"What now?" I asked.

He turned. "My place?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Depends. Did you invite the paparazzi to a house party?" I wasn't interested in adding to my scandalous photos, at least not yet.

"No," he responded, with a smirk on his lips. "It'd just be us."

"Oh." My response sounded more concerned than I meant for it to.

"Is that okay?"

I opened my mouth to answer, but my phone buzzed, ruining my train of thought. I pulled it out of my pocket, half-expecting a panicked call from Tess. But she hadn't been the one to disturb my date. It was Jay. My stomach dropped, and I apologized to Daniel, already distracted. "One second? I have to take this."

Daniel nodded, but his smile faltered when I brought the phone up to my ear. Still, I hurried around the corner, past the whack-a-mole game, and away from the photographers. "Hello?"

"Blair, oh my God, hey."

"Is something wrong?" I asked, listening for panic in his voice.

"Are you free?"

"Not really," I said, dread weighing me down as I maneuvered to the back wall. "I'm on a date."

Jay paused, then asked, "With Daniel?"

I felt the urge to apologize, but suppressed it. We were broken up. He left me. And yet, I still felt responsible for the fracture between us. "Yeah."

"Okay," he said, sighing in the same breath. "I get the hint." I let the silence fill the line, and he continued. "Have fun."

Suddenly, my throat was dry. "Thanks."

He ended the call before I had the time to say anything else, cutting me off. And I was relieved, more than I'd like to admit, as I walked back to Daniel. I found him in the prize store, holding a miniature typewriter figurine. It was chipped on one side, and he greeted me with an apology.

"I dropped it," he said, rubbing the back of his neck after handing it off.

I grinned. "It's perfect."

Daniel reached for my free hand. "I'm glad you think so."

The sick feeling in my stomach lessened, and I relaxed. "So," I said, trying not to seem eager. "Your place?"

"Follow me," he said, already walking through the doors and leading me into the sunset. 

***

"So who called you?" Daniel asked, handing me another glass of cranberry juice. He had waited hours to ask, I realized. I sat comfortably beside him, cozy under one of his many blankets on the couch. We had been talking, scarfing down burgers from a pub downtown. It took less time to pick up dinner than to argue about who would cook.

I should've lied. At least most people would say so. I was having a nice evening, and there was no need to spoil it with negativity. But he had asked, and there was no reason to hide the truth. Right? "Jay," I said finally. "My ex."

Daniel sipped his juice, still unable to drink it without grimacing at the tart flavor. "So what's the story?" What he meant to ask was, why does he keep calling you?

I shrugged. "He's just concerned."

"Because of me?" He asked, placing a hand over his chest. My eyes followed the scarring, barely visible but still stretching from his index finger to his wrist. I hadn't noticed before.

"I guess so," I said, and Daniel laughed. I frowned. "What?"

He shook his head, refusing to tell me what was so funny. "Was it an ugly breakup?"

I paused, remembering the long, lonely nights I spent curled in bed, crying into my comforter. Mia visited for some days, but even she had her limits. I spent most of my time at the bottom of a bottle, chasing ghosts. The worst ghost was of a man who wasn't even dead. "Yeah, you can say that." I tapped my nails against the glass, pushing aside the memories. "But it wasn't his fault."

Daniel ran his fingers through his hair. "So you broke up with him?" I knew what he was thinking. I must have torn out the poor guy's heart and left him stuck on me, still begging for attention.

That would have been easier.

I stared into my juice, picturing the wine that used to fill my shelves in the apartment I shared with my nonexistent family. Too embarrassed to look him in the eye. "I had a drinking problem. And right after my mom died, it got worse. Jay tried to stick around, but... I was too much." I left out the gruesome details, the bingeing, and the screaming matches. Luckily, Daniel didn't pry.

Except when he asked, "So the book is about him, then?"

I glanced up from my drink. "Huh?"

"Your first one," he said, his eyes finding mine, searching them for the truth.

"Not exactly." I sighed. Leaning on the couch for support, I shared more than I should have. "They have a happy ending, at least."

Daniel's leg pressed against mine, as it had for the last half-hour. "Only because your editors wanted it, right?" My brain was mush, and my better judgment continued to be dulled by our proximity.

"I wanted it," I said, owning up to my stubbornness. "I couldn't stand the idea of us never being together, not even in fiction."

Daniel nodded as if he understood my grief. It had taken many forms since Mom's death. The first was alcohol. The second was writing. But the well had run dry eventually. At least until I found something to want again, something to need beyond comprehension.

"Don't worry, your secret is safe with me," he said, smiling softly. And it was his kindness that drew me to him, daring me to finish what I started in the photo booth. I placed my glass on the coffee table and straddled him, placing kisses on his neck as his hands grabbed my waist.