Wright that Got Away (Wright)

I was still dazed from the speed of everything when I showed up to LBK Studios the next day. I hauled in my serious video equipment. I did most of my social media stuff on my phone for ease of use, but I had better cameras and high-end recorders that I used for Blaire Blush workshops.

I clanked in through the double glass doors, holding a tripod and carrying a backpack full of equipment. If someone had told me when I was getting my psych degree that I’d need to learn how to run my own business, record and manage most of my own videos, and do all of my own marketing, I would have laughed at them. And yet here I was.

“Hey, Blaire. You need any help with that?” Weston asked. He jumped up and offered me a hand.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. Campbell said you were coming to record, but I thought he meant on your phone.”

“I always have to go one extra step, don’t I?”

Weston grinned. “Nora says that’s why you’re so successful at what you do.”

“Ah, well, that’s nice of Nora.”

I glanced up at him as he carried my equipment to the table by the studio entrance. I’d been worried for Nora ever since August had ripped out her heart and fed it through a shredder. She’d seemed a wreck on the soccer field. But having a cute roommate who quoted her to other people certainly couldn’t hurt anything.

“I’m going to leave this here. Why don’t you come in and hear what they’re working on?”

I nodded and slipped into the studio. The band was set up at their various instruments, messing around with the sound on a song I’d never heard before. It was more upbeat than “Invisible Girl” but just as catchy. It reminded me of a fun summer hit that people would dance to in clubs or sing at the top of their lungs while driving with the top down.

“Oh, wow,” I whispered. “What’s this one?”

Weston looked down at the sheet of paper in front of him. “It’s called ‘Rooftop Nights.’ ”

I flushed all over at that. That could not be a coincidence. Campbell and I had kissed on a rooftop, and now, he was singing about it for the entire world to hear. I’d thought it was bad to have one song about me. So far, both songs on the album were about me.

A new feeling awakened in my stomach at that thought. It wasn’t revulsion. It wasn’t the usual fear and anxiety that someone would find out about me. It was…excitement?

Because whatever was happening here with Campbell felt new and shiny while also nostalgic and comfortable. He’d hurt me in the worst possible way. I’d had no idea that I’d be able to feel like this again. Or maybe I’d kept my distance from him because I knew that if I even dared to talk to him again, I’d never be able to walk away. Campbell and I had an inexplicable draw. The minute he’d actually seen me, everything had drifted away, and I’d known I’d never be alone again.

It had started in the unlikeliest of places.

Sonic.

I still rolled my eyes, thinking about it. I’d gotten the job at my mom’s insistence that I learned a hard day’s work. I’d been at Sonic a year, delivering orders on roller skates, and I already knew that I never wanted to work in fast food again if I could help it.

Every Friday night after the big game, we’d get high school students in droves. I skipped all the games because the tips at work were just too good to pass up. Which was how I knew that every Friday, Campbell Abbey showed up in his girlfriend’s shiny BMW convertible. Jill Patton was high school royalty. Her dad owned all the major car dealerships in West Texas. She had a different car every month of the year. It was obscene.

And somehow, she was dating Campbell.

He’d always been cool even though he never gave a fuck what anyone else thought. Maybe it was because he didn’t care.

Jill was dressed in her cheerleading uniform, and he had on his usual outfit of faded jeans and a fitted black shirt. Chuck Taylors on his feet and his hair spiked up. All of their friends took over the spattering of tables in the middle of Sonic, and to my dismay, every Friday, I delivered their food. It sucked because Jill Patton didn’t tip. Apparently, her dad hadn’t taught her manners.

With a sigh, I hoisted the tray onto my shoulder and skated toward their table. I handed out the food and drinks that had been ordered.

“Chocolate shake,” I said, dropping off the drink in front of Jill. “And a banana split.”

“That’s me,” Campbell said.

I passed it to him, barely meeting his eyes.

“Excuse me,” Jill said, annoyed.