One Last Thing ✅

fourteen things

Jared's car is parked in front of our house.

I switch the guitar case from one hand to another as I walk across the lawn, staring at my combat boots crushing the delicate green blades of grass beneath my feet. A gust of wind lifts the hair off my neck, and I shiver beneath my jacket. There's no doubt about it. Fall is coming.

Change is coming, whether I like it or not.

When I open the back door to slide my guitar case into the car, a Guns 'n' Roses song pours out. Jared is singing along. The side of my mouth quirks up, and I shut the rear door softly before climbing into the front. He reaches over and turns up the volume.

The music familiar music relaxes my shoulders, coaxes me into opening my mouth and singing along about a city far away where the grass is green and the girls are pretty. By the time the song ends, Jared has parked the car in the alley behind House of Rock and both of us are grinning.

"Oh, hey," I say, my conversation with Rose popping into my head. "I need to talk to you about something."

Jared snaps off the radio and shoots a glance in my direction. "Yeah?"

"I was talking to Rose Evans today, and I told her she should come to the show and that we'd hook her up with an interview."

Jared frowns. "Didn't we say we were going to pass on that?"

"Yeah, but I... sort of owe her one."

"Why?"

I'm reluctant to tell Jared about the English test, especially following his reaction to my scars. "She, uh... let me borrow her notes for the Hamlet exam." The lie tastes bitter in my mouth, but it's out before I've even thought about it. "Besides, why are you so against it?"

Jared glares at the steering wheel. "It's not that I'm against the interview. I just... don't want to be in the school newspaper."

"Why?"

He sighs. "It's just... this is supposed to be ours, you know? Something separate from school, something different from all that bullshit. I just don't want to be walking down the hall and have some jackass make a comment about us thinking we're rock stars or something."

I stare at him. It had never occurred to me that Jared wouldn't want to be featured in the newspaper because he wanted to keep our band private. To the contrary, I thought he'd be excited about the publicity. Maybe it would get more people out to see us. It kind of floors me, how you can think you're close to someone and then be so totally wrong about what they're thinking.

"Well," I say softly. "It's kind of too late now. It would be rude to cancel it after she comes out here to see us."

His jaw tightens. "I guess."

"Maybe I should have asked you guys first."

"It's fine." He waves his hand. "No big deal."

Breathing a sigh of relief, I reach back to grab Betsy's case. At the same time, Jared reaches for his own guitar case, and we bump foreheads.

"Ouch!" I exclaim.

Jared rubs his own head, wincing. "Sorry."

We look at each other, and the corners of his mouth jerk upward.

I smile back at him.

"I'm sorry, too."

He leans forward and kisses me then, hard and firm. Then he pulls back and pats my hand. "Let's go," he says, and he opens the door and climbs out of the car, leaving me and Betsy alone. I sit there for a second, just staring at the zebra print on her case, noting a place where the pink paint is chipped.

"Are you ready for this?" I whisper to Betsy.

She doesn't answer.

I mean, obviously.