Harlow Gold | calum hood

Chapter One

I slammed the door of my car, tossing my backpack into the passenger seat as I did, the contents rattling inside as it hits the worn leather. The car sputtered to life a moment later, a local radio station breaking the silence as a pop song played on, the singer crooning about the one that got away. It was another pleasantly cool Autumn evening in sunny San Diego—well, pleasantly cool if you were originally from Houston.

I quickly plugged my phone into the AUX before the silence became too much to bear, The Japanese House playing serenely over the speakers. I threw my car into reverse and made my way out of the garage, nervously tapping my fingers on the wheel. Juggling band rehearsals, my senior year at SDSU, and a job was becoming a little too much to bear and I was only a month in. I picked at my chipped black nail polish as the light went from yellow to red, my car coming to a stop as my phone dinged.

I glanced at Milo's name flashing across the screen than back at the red light, chewing the inside of my cheek. Before I could second guess myself I was leaned forward, swiping the text open.

Turn on 99.3 RIGHT NOW

I frowned at the text before reaching over to switch to the station, my mouth dropping when I finally managed to do it.

-arry thoughts you put inside my head 'til the day I'm dead. Why oh why?

This was my song from my band. My eyes stung as the chorus kicked in, my own voice filling the speakers surrounding me. Can songs sound different over the radio? I've never sounded so real, so heard. My heart squeezed in my chest as my hands become cold with sweat, every nerve in my body seeming to curl up into tight little balls of nervous-excited energy.

Just as I was about to burst into tears, the car behind me honked, the light ahead neon green. I swore and pushed on the gas, dialing Milo's number as I did. The song continued onto the second verse, and I drummed along to it on the steering wheel with my free hand.

"Milo!" I cheered when he picked up, wiggling in my chair as my heart made its way to my throat.

"It's our song motherfucker!" That was Seb, his voice cracking as he whooped my eardrum off. I laughed and whooped with him.

"I know, dude! How the fuck did this happen?"

"It was Mark, that madman!" Coral yells, her voice lifted.

"I could kiss that old man!"

"Please don't, I don't think my husband would like that very much."

I laughed as tears started falling and used my knee to steer as I wiped them away, the other side of the phone blowing up with laughter of their own. I was suddenly extremely glad for my sudden aversion to makeup in an attempt to feel confident with myself, deciding to stick to my natural face for the remainder of my life (except for special occasions, of course).

"You crazy motherfucker, how did you manage to get us on 99.3?"

"Oh you know, I know a guy who knows a guy. You did give me a '#1 Manager' mug for a reason, you know," Mark said after we all calmed down. I shook my head in disbelief and made my turn, bopping my head along to our song.

"When will you be here?" Coral asked, Seb and Milo chiming in to tease me and my ever-present lateness with heckles of their own.

"A swift five, my dear. I'm passing that Starbucks now—and no, I am not stopping this time."

"Your addiction to coffee knows no bounds, Harlow."

"It was one time! And I—"

"Had just pulled an all-nighter to try and finish your gallery piece, we know. See you when you get here, we're gonna paaartay!" Milo swiftly cut me off. I smiled through the teasing as I rolled my eyes.