Crap. I’ve gone too far south. I just passed the sign to Windsor. I’m a full two hours away from London. And the AYS start way early. If I try to change course, I’ll end up missing both.
I need to pull myself together. All I can think about is making out with Derek. It seems to drive my decisions more than anything else. How shallow is that?
I will do this—swallow my cowardice, misgivings, my craving to get behind Derek’s perfect facade to the trouble he refuses to share with me, and silence Scott’s voice saying—He doesn’t treat you, babe, like I do—
He doesn’t meet you babe, like me.
I’ ll be your rescue on the horizon,
Your prince on bended knee.
I’ ll climb your walls,
The dragons fall,
If you’ ll stay here, babe, with me.
He’s creepy, so creepy, stay with me.
You’re the beauty to my beast.
If we kiss, the spell will release.
It’s midnight, girl, the ball has passed,
Wake up, and you’ ll see
Whose love will last.
He’s creepy-
No, he’s not. Shut up, Scott. You can’t even sing.
I march into practice ready to tell the world I’m joining Amabile.
Terri is in the front with a smile bubbling from ear to shining ear. “Good, Beth. I didn’t want to make this announcement without you.”
I squeeze through the altos and take my seat next to Sarah. “What’s up?”
She shrugs her shoulders.
“Okay.” Terri takes a big breath and fans her face. She’s pink. Whoa. Maybe she’s met a guy. She’s getting married and leaving us. She’s going to introduce a new director that I will have absolutely no loyalty to. Bliss will fall apart without Terri. Lucky I’m leaving.
“Is everybody ready?”
“Get on with it.” Meadow echoes what we’re all thinking.
“I went to the mailbox this morning and look what I found.” Terri waves an off-white envelope in the air. “Any guesses?”
“No! ” we all shout back.
“Now, girls, girls, remember—your voices.” She slowly slides out a letter and shakes it open. “Dear Miss Bolton, Thank you for your grant application. The commission is impressed with Bliss Youth Singers’ achievement on the world stage and is delighted to approve your request.”
Grant? Whoopee. We’ll get new hair bows. I’m so glad I’m out of here.
Terri pauses, looks at all of us, and continues reading. “We look forward to hearing the CD you plan to produce.”
CD? We’re cutting a CD of our own?
“What do you say, girls?” She’s looking straight at me. “Are you up for it?”
Derek’s not online when I get home, so I call him. I don’t care what it costs. I use the landline, though. Maybe Mom won’t notice when it shows up on the bill. And she likes him. She still keeps bringing up Scott—but she likes Derek. Enough to spring for a few international long-distance phone calls. We need to get a cheap plan.
Derek doesn’t pick up. It’s way late. Practice went over. We sang through all our old favorites trying to decide what to put on the CD. “Take Me Home”—for sure. Our other competition pieces. And all the new stuff Terri chose for me to sing this year.
“You know what would be cool,” Leah piped up. “If Beth could get Derek to come and sing that duet with her. We could do the backup.”
I turned at least red—probably purple.
Terri winked at me. “I’ll check into the licensing if you think he would?”
“I don’t know. He’s really busy. I’ll ask.” I’m such a liar. But what could I do?
Derek’s voice-mail comes on, and I hang up. Maybe he’s asleep. I thought he’d wait up—want to talk. I check my computer screen again. No Derek. I can’t do this in an email. No way.
That’s when I decide not to tell him until I see him. I’ll go Friday. Steal one more night in Amabile’s rarified air.
I get there late. He’s waiting outside the church. He kisses me too quick and hustles me to the door. “How did it go Tuesday?”
“I’ll tell you after.”
I can’t relax and get into the singing. I’m an intruder. What am I doing here? The wispy-beard director gets an alto and soprano to try the solo I sang last week. It works. They so don’t need me.
Derek leans over and whispers, “You were much better.”
I shake my head.
He rolls his eyes. “Not even close.”
His ex sings the next song with a solo. Her voice is delicate—not breathy like Meadow’s but feminine and pretty—fairies sing like that when they dance at midnight. I keep my eyes focused on the music. No way do I dare look at Derek. What if his eyes read regret?
He lost her for me? It doesn’t make any sense. He could get her back easy. Maybe, after tonight, he’ll want that.
After choir, he makes me hop on the back of his bike. “You aboard is the best way to ensure my safety.”
I can’t argue.
I press my face into his leather-jacketed back and enjoy hanging on to him. He rides over a bridge and then takes a narrow road down into a park. It’s full of old maple trees. When he shuts off his bike, I can hear moving water—close.
“I found us a new bench.” He leads me to a green wooden park bench beside the small river that splits London in two. “This is the Thames. Not Lake Geneva—but—”
“I love it.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Not for donuts.”
He sits down and pulls me beside him. We fall easily into our Lausanne make-out position. It feels so right. I comb his silky dark hair out of his eyes.
“So you’re okay? Tuesday wasn’t too traumatic?”
I get my mouth on his. I need this first. I need the assurance of his lips pressing harder and harder. I need his arms and his shoulders and his chest. I need to cling to him and kiss. I get hungrier and hungrier.
“Hey—hey. Slow it down.” He presses his cheek against mine. “We’ve got all the time you want tonight.”
I press my face into his shoulder.
“You’re not cold, are you?” His fingers slide through my hair.
I put a ton of conditioner on it, didn’t rinse it all out, and left it wavy. I wanted it soft for him. I can tell he likes it.
“Thanks, Beth. I told you this would work.” He shifts me so my head falls back on his arms and bends to kiss me again.
I put my fingers on his lips. “Tuesday. I tried, but—”
It all comes out in a rush. His body goes stiff, and his arms drop away from cradling me. At least he doesn’t dump me on the ground.
“I’m sorry. Terri wouldn’t have a CD if I left.” I wrap my arms around his neck. “Don’t hate me. Please.”
He’s quiet a long time. I don’t let go of him—keep my face pressed into his neck. I wait for him to shove me into the dirt, but it doesn’t happen.
“Why’d you come tonight?”
“To taste it again and tell you face-to-face.”
“You took your time about it.”