In Real Life by Jessica Love Page B

didn’t know what to say.”
    â€œSay, ‘Hey, Hannah, my brother is in a band, not me.’ Say, ‘I sell their T-shirts’ not ‘I play the guitar.’ It’s not that difficult. God, no wonder you would never play the guitar for me. Did you laugh at me every time we talked about this? Did you think I was that stupid?”
    â€œOh my God, no. It’s not like that at all. I’m so sorry.” He leans forward, flattening his hands on the merch table “Actually, there’s something I’ve been meaning to—”
    I shake my head and put up my hand to stop him. “You know what? No. I don’t want to hear whatever it is you have to say right now. Just … don’t.”
    â€œPlease, I need to—” He must see something in my face that changes his mind, because he gives up mid-sentence and simply says, “There’s no good explanation. I’m sorry.”
    â€œStop saying that.”
    My heart aches with regret over every choice I’ve made in the past twenty-four hours as I stare down at the T-shirts on the merch table, including the one Nick sent me that I’d been wearing yesterday. I’m sick over every single choice that led me here, every rule broken, but most of all, I regret letting myself think there could be something between me and Nick if I came here. I’d kept my feelings for him so under control, so locked away, for the past four years. But I have this one moment of weakness, I give up control this one time, and this is what happens.
    Disaster.
    â€œAnd Frankie,” I say, still focused on the T-shirts. “Three months? Why didn’t you—?”
    â€œI didn’t know what to say,” he says, his shaking voice barely audible over the music coming from inside. “I didn’t think you would care.”
    â€œWhy wouldn’t I care? You’re my friend. You’ve told me about your girlfriends before, Nick. I told you about Josh.” I press my hands down on the merch table and look at him as I lean forward so I don’t have to shout it. “I told you everything about Josh.”
    Then, as I am feeling my most vulnerable, with the conversation about Josh hanging in the air between us, Nick comes out from behind the table. I think he’s going to hug me or comfort me in some way, so I brace my body. Flinch a little. But he doesn’t try to comfort me at all.
    He walks away.
    I prepare myself to run as quickly as I can back to Grace and Lo and drag them out of this venue, out of this casino, out of this godforsaken city. Before I can do anything, though, Nick is back, pulling a floppy string bean of a kid behind him. “Mo,” he says in a voice that leaves no room for conversation. “I need you to cover merch until Chang gets here.” This no-nonsense voice of his surprises me; I’ve never heard it before.
    Mo’s thin mouth twists up in confusion. “But I don’t know—”
    â€œYou’ll figure it out. No one buys anything anyway.” He turns to me. “I’m so sorry. I can’t talk here. Like this. Can we go for a walk?”
    The urge to run is still strong, but I want to hear what he has to say for himself, so I nod. He starts toward the makeshift exit indicated by the ropes we walked through earlier, and he leads me along, through the groups of people walking into the show, by placing his fingers gently on the small of my back. That light touch, only the second time we have touched ever, sends sparks of electricity up my back, and I hate how my body betrays me like that. Stop that. He lied to us. We’re mad at him.
    My body doesn’t listen.
    We pass back through the spot where Grace, Lo, and I walked in, and Nick gives a fist bump to Scary Bouncer. “Hey, man, we’re going to be back in a sec. Is that cool?” Scary Bouncer looks me up and down and grins at Nick, giving him an affirmative nod.
    Walking