“Famous last words.” She tossed her long hair over her shoulder. “Okay, so I guess that’s it. Just do me one favor.”
“Anything.”
“Give me some time before you start walking the halls with Violet, okay?”
“I will. Doubt that would happen soon anyway. I have to get my shit together.” I smiled thinly. “Don’t need to tell you that.”
“No, you don’t.” Amber’s stiff face softened. “I thought I’d be more hurt. And I am. I’m not letting you off the hook.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“But when you sent me that text this morning, I felt almost relieved.” She shot me a dry look. “Miller Stratton, you’re like a gentleman sharing a brain with an asshole.”
I laughed a little. “Accurate.”
The asshole was born the day my father left. But Amber didn’t need to hear any more excuses.
“And I have a confession,” she said. “I got a little wrapped up in the idea of you and me. Of you being this famous musician and me being the girl in your love songs. So maybe I hung around a little bit longer than I should have. But that doesn’t mean you should’ve kissed someone else.”
“No, it doesn’t. I’ll always regret that.”
I regretted the timing. I could never regret kissing Violet. Even when it blew us apart.
Amber heaved a sigh. “O
kay, you look contrite enough. I gotta go.” She shouldered her embroidered bag. “When you do get your shit together, make sure you give Violet more of your gentleman and less of your asshole.”
I held up a hand. “I will do my best to give her less of my asshole.”
She burst out with a laugh. “See you around, Stratton.”
“Hey, Amber.”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for being cool.”
She smiled thinly, gave a little wave, and walked away.
I slumped on the bench, relief and regret gusting out of me. Relief that I ended it, regret that it took me so long.
A few days later, I was on the same bench, reading Tender is the Night, when Evelyn Gonzalez approached.
“Hey, you. What you’re doing?” She glanced at the cover of my book. “Fitzgerald. That’s not on our assigned list.”
“I know. I’m reading it because I want to.”
“Aren’t you just the perfect, sensitive artist-type.”
I sighed. “What do you want, Evelyn?”
“You.” She laughed at my dark expression. “Relax. It’s purely business. We need to get to work on your next video. The last one was great but I have some fresh ideas that I want to run by you tonight.”
“You know I can only do Sundays.”
“This Sunday is no good. It has to be tonight.”
“I can’t. I have work after school at the arcade.”