UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

..................................................................

THE SONG WAS FOR ME. I KNEW THAT. AND I WASN’T running away—I hoped Wren and Jazz made sure Jesse knew that when they saw him after Yellow #5’s set. I wanted to see him after the battle, and I would, but I had to do something first before it was too late.

Thankfully, the night was warm—winter finally giving way to spring—and it was pleasant walking across town. I stopped at the bakery. I’d made it just as they were about to close, buying the last of the good doughnuts, the one sure thing that Paul and I shared. Well, the second, I guess. We shared Mom, after all.

I wasn’t about to let Paul get away with not saying good-bye to me. I wasn’t an architect yet but I was the architect of my own life and this not-saying-good-bye crap set up a weak foundation.

Jesse’s song—seeing him alone, vulnerable, voice and guitar—reminded me that being an open book, sharing what was inside, was an uncertain leap. Scary but necessary. I didn’t quite understand what had come over me as I watched him. Or maybe it was something that had been gradually happening since I met him. Jesse poured out words that cut me straight to the core. I couldn’t help but melt, my heart firmly and sappily on my sleeve. Maybe only Jazz and Wren knew the song was for me, but it felt like everyone in the Bergen Point gym had.

I climbed the stairs to my house two at a time, still harboring the tiniest hope that I’d burst in on Mom and Paul in a lip-lock, they’d profess their love to each other and me, and we’d be a family and live happily ever after just like my birthday wish.

No such luck.

“Madison, I thought you were out for the night,” my mother said.

The two of them were in their usual spot in the dining room, each with a glass of wine, half-eaten pizza still in the box between them. I lifted up the grease-stained white bag for Paul to see. He grinned and raised his glass to me before taking a sip.

“Pizza and doughnuts, this is quite a send-off,” he said.

“Were you really going to leave without saying good-bye to me?” I placed the bag on the table and pulled out a chair. Paul put his glass down. My mother rested her chin on her hands and waited expectantly for him to answer.

“And don’t give me ‘I’m not into good-byes.’ I think that’s sort of Parenting 101—you say good-bye to the people you love when you leave. Especially your kids. Especially me.”

He looked between my mother and me. “Okay, I can do that.”

“There’s something else,” I said.

My mother gave me the same expectant look she’d given Paul.

No turning back now.

“I did some research about summer programs in California and I thought, well, maybe I’d apply someplace out there.”

“The one at Cal Poly?” Paul asked.

“No, the one at Berk—wait, how do you know there’s one at Cal Poly?” I looked at my mom, who was chuckling and shaking her head.

“After we spoke the other day, I looked into it, I thought I’d toss the idea out to your mom, see what she thought first. I know how important it is for you to earn your way.”

“I’d have to earn my way into Berkley I think I still have time to get everything together.” I stopped, looked at my mother. “Are you okay with this if I get in?”

She smiled. “I think it would be great, for the both of you. And I guess I would have to maybe fly out at some point. Ugh, a vacation out west, how awful would that be?”

“The three of us in the city by the bay again,” Paul said, lifting up his wineglass. “That would be something.”

The three of us.

It sounded weird but nice.

Not exactly what I’d wished for on my birthday but it was a start.

Going to diner. Need a ride?

I was about to answer Wren’s text when I got another one.

never mind

What did that even mean? I hoped it meant what I thought it did. Moments later I heard footfalls on the front porch. My heart jumped into my throat and I sprung up from the table, crumbs from the doughnut I’d eaten falling to the floor.

“Wait . . . no good-bye peck on the cheek for your old man?”

I laughed. “Old man?”

“Yeah, I don’t like it either.”

“Let’s stick to Paul.”

I ran back and gave him a kiss on the cheek, Mom, too, just as someone knocked. “Don’t wait up,” I said, heading out, and right smack into Jesse.

“Hey.”

He smiled, shrugging his shoulders up to his ears. “Hey.”

His hair was all over the place from flipping it around as he played, but the disheveled look worked on him. I wanted to tackle hug him but I restrained myself.

“What are you doing here? Is the battle over? Did you win?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“That you won?”

“No, why I’m here.”

I felt oddly shy remembering the song, the words, the way it made me feel.

“Come on.” I led him down the stairs to the first landing, and motioned for him to sit down.

“I came to see if you wanted to hang out,” he said, dropping down onto the concrete step. I eased onto his lap, eating up every moment of the surprise on his face.

“Yes, I do, but first . . . Jess, that song . . . you . . .” Every word I came up with sounded cheesy, or strange or horribly inadequate to describe how his song touched me. How it made me feel. How I felt about him.

“Thank you,” I whispered. “Thank you for the song, for being here, for Fallingwater, for hot chocolate, for being kind even when I wasn’t . . . for everything.” I touched my lips to his. His mouth was soft and warm. I closed my eyes, letting myself drift into the feeling, that even if it was just for a moment, everything was the way it was supposed to be. This was right. He drew me closer to him, encircling me with his arms while I wrapped mine around his neck.

I never wanted to come up for air.

The diner was noisy and packed with people when we walked in. Jesse had his arm around my shoulder as we scoured the tables to see if we could find the other members of Yellow #5 who were supposedly somewhere in the crowd. I saw Wren and waved. They sat at a big circular table in the back, menus still spread out in front of them.

“Finally, you’re here to share in our victory,” Tanner said as we got closer.

Jesse stopped. “Victory? What do you mean?”

“Do you want to tell him or should I?” Tanner looked at Gray.

“I think you should be the one.”

“Come on, one of you say something already!” Jazz said.

“We won.” Tanner grinned, pulling the ear flaps of his hat down. “Lucky hat.”

“What? How?” Jesse pulled out a chair for me, but I nudged him onto it and plopped down on his lap again. Wren wriggled her eyebrows at me. I wrapped my arms around Jesse’s neck and smiled.

“I guess the judges didn’t read the rules.”

“And since Plasma came in second they are contesting it, so we can’t claim we’re the winners yet, but yeah, win or not, the crowd loved us,” Gray said.

“Wait, why would they contest it?” I asked.

“I wasn’t supposed to play the song solo. It was against the rules,” Jesse said.

“So then why did you?”

He touched his head to mine. Everyone at the table was looking at us—in truth, I didn’t care. The old me, the PDA-loathing me, finally realized that maybe when it was right . . . being in public was irrelevant, because it felt like we were the only two in the room. Warmth rushed through me as his lips brushed my ear.

“Because I had to play it . . . for you.”

“And you risked losing?”

He looked at me, his eyes so intense and steady, like all this time he knew something that he’d been waiting for me to understand. I pressed my lips to his, ignoring the clapping at our table, shutting out everything else but us, this moment. It was scary . . . and sexy . . . and fun.

And real.