Maeve
“You did not bake brownies.”
“I did, and they’re delicious.” I broke a piece of the corner off and popped it in my mouth to illustrate just how delicious they were.
“What time did you wake up this morning, mad woman?” Yael’s long hair was soaking wet from her shower, and when she rushed by me to grab a yogurt from the fridge, I saw the back of her T-shirt was just as soaked.
“Oh, a little while ago.” I’d woken at six, nearly drowning in my partially deflated air mattress. I didn’t want to tell Yael, both because I didn’t want to make her feel bad that her fancy guest accommodations weren’t quite five-star and I was self-conscious it could bemyfault it had deflated in the first place.
I was determined to find duct tape and fix the leak, wherever it was. But first, rehearsal.
“Are you ready?” she asked, shoving a spoonful of Icelandic yogurt into her mouth.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
That was the truth. My nerves had settled into something of a low boil. I had faith in my drumming skills, but I had no idea how the four of us would play together. I’d been practicing their songs, studying videos of Diego playing, but when it came down to it, I had my own style. I wasn’t about to go rogue and switch up time signatures or add polyrhythms where there hadn’t been any, but I couldn’t help sounding different than Diego.
So, we’d have to see how the boys handled that.
Yael drove me to the rehearsal space, first stopping at a drive-thru Starbucks for coffee, even though she was already sipping from a to-go cup. Since we were there, I ordered a non-fat mocha. Not that I needed more caffeine. From the moment I woke up to when Yael made an appearance, I’d been working my way through a pot of coffee all on my own.
By the time she pulled into a parking spot outside the studio, I was a jittery mess.
“Can we sit here for a second?” I asked.
She drew her hand away from the door and leaned her head back. “Sure. I’m in no rush.”
I snorted. “I don’t think I’ve ever known you to rush.”
She turned her head toward me. “I was nineteen the last time we talked. I’m a little more responsible than I was as a kid.”
Immediately, I felt contrite. “You’re right. And I don’t think I’ve said this, but I was a terrible friend to you, leavin’ without saying goodbye. Not calling. That wasn’t right.”
“Thank you.” She sighed. “I know we weren’t like, besties, but that summer…”
“Yeah.” I sighed too. We’d grown closer than we ever had been, mostly because I’d spent all my spare time at her house. “You’re right. We were great friends, and I really screwed up.”
“You really did. I’m the most loyal, cut-anyone-who-hurts-you friend.”
My lips twitched, and so did hers. “I know. I think I described you exactly like that to Haven. You’re a little bit scary.”
She waved her hands in celebration. “Yay.”
I laughed. “I always intended on calling. But I was flat broke once I got to L.A. and I worked myself to the bone. Then, so much time had passed, I convinced myself you wouldn’t even want to hear from me.”
“Never. If we weren’t in need of a drummer, I might’ve required more groveling…”
I slapped her arm with the back of my hand. “Oh, shush, you.”
She sobered a little, her eyes studying my face. “I still want to know what made you leave like a thief in the night.”
“It wasn’t one thing really. But give me a few glasses of wine, and I’ll tell you all about the massive fight I had with my parents right before I left.”
“Aw, honey.” She reached over and patted my knee. “I’ll get you drunk and you don’t have to tell me anything. I’ve never seen you fully drunk and I want to experience that. I bet your accent getsrealthick.”
“You ain’t heard nothin’, sugah,” I drawled.
She snort-laughed, then solemnly vowed to get me drunk ASAP. As we sat there laughing and delaying the inevitable, someone rapped on my window. I jumped with a start, nearly dropping my mocha.