Always a Love Song Page 5

  Alex flipped on the radio. Distractions were good. The rock song that was playing came to an end, only to be replaced by Bridget’s latest single. Of fucking course. Inescapable.

  Bridget shut off the music. “Alex, listen, I know you hate me, but I—”

  “I don’t hate you,” Alex said softly.

  “What?”

  “I said I don’t hate you.” She swallowed her emotions. It was tougher with Bridget in the passenger seat, but she’d had years of practice. “It’d be easier to hate you if you were terrible.”

  That got a smile from Bridget. “You want me to be terrible? Okay, what do you call a belt made out of a watch?” She paused expectantly. “A waist of time!”

  Alex groaned. If she weren’t driving, she’d cover her eyes with a palm. “That was awful.”

  Bridget laughed. “You love it.”

  She did, but it was a residual sort of love, the thing she never learned to stop loving because she was so busy forgetting Bridget’s eyes and her voice and her thoughtfulness.

  “So,” Bridget began, twisting her fingers together, “I know we should find a better time to talk, but I thought…I thought maybe we could try to be friends?”

  Alex tightened her jaw to keep from replying right away. Absolutely not was her kneejerk reaction. Because that was what she did. React and hold grudges and squirrel herself away so no one could make her feel anything. When you were alone, the only person who could hurt you was yourself.

  She stayed silent for three more blocks, long enough to prompt Bridget into talking again. “Or not. That’s fine, too. That’s…totally fine. But, you know, we should talk. At some point.”

  They reached Bridget’s house a block later. Alex pulled the truck into the driveway next to Evelyn’s car. She hopped out, jogged around the truck, and had the passenger door open before Bridget even got her seatbelt off.

  Bridget hesitated before letting Alex get an arm under her and help her hobble to the front door. The walk was short, blessedly so, because holding Bridget was…

  Douse those flames. Build those walls.

  Mrs. Callahan opened the door. “Oh, honey, Max called and told me what happened. Are you all right?”

  “Yeah, Mom, I’m fine,” Bridget said, as Alex helped her inside and onto the couch.

  “Thank you so much for taking care of her, Alex,” Mrs. Callahan said.

  “Not a problem, Mrs. C.”

  “Would you like to stay? I’m making lasagna for dinner.”

  “Thank you, but I can’t today.”

  “Mom,” Bridget said, making a little go away motion with her head.

  “Of course, dear. Alex, thanks again for being such an upstanding young woman.”

  Alex smiled. Mrs. Callahan was laying it on thick today.

  Bridget perched on the couch, seemingly content to stare at Alex without a word.

  Alex stuffed her hands in the pockets of her vest. She cleared her throat. “So, um, friends. You said you wanted us to try to be friends.”

  A small, tentative smile appeared on Bridget’s lips. “Yeah, I did. What do you think?”

  Five years was a long time to analyze flaws, and Alex knew she had them. Lots. But she’d never get better if she didn’t own up to them. Besides, all she could think about was her dad’s face if he knew how thoroughly she’d shut Bridget out. Bridget had been like a second daughter to him, and he’d always advocated forgiveness.

  Too bad she wasn’t that good a person.

  “Yeah… I don’t think so.”

  Chapter Four

  Then

  The simple fact was, the summer was turning out to be freakishly hot and, as poor college students, she and Alex couldn’t afford an apartment with air conditioning. That was why every single window was open, letting in the noise of cars and partiers from the street. That was why every single ceiling fan was at full speed and they’d borrowed standing fans from her family. That was why they’d been living on takeout and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for the past week, because they didn’t want to heat up the apartment by using the oven.

  It wasn’t the reason they hadn’t had sex in four days, though.

  Not that Bridget was counting.

  But it was almost the end of the summer, almost the beginning of their senior year, and Alex had spent the past three months consumed by her internship. Bridget didn’t blame her, exactly, but she had imagined this time would be theirs. Instead, she was wasting away as a barista at the local coffee shop while Alex worked insanely long hours for minimum wage and the promise of a recommendation letter.

  She wasn’t going to waste a Friday night, though. With plans to meet their friends for dinner and dancing, she left Alex hunched over her laptop and called over her shoulder, “I’m taking a shower.” A cold one to combat the heat.

  She dressed in red shorts that barely covered her ass, a white ribbed tank top, and a loose, short-sleeved plaid shirt she could take off if it got too hot. Alex barely looked up when Bridget said goodnight and told her not to wait up.

  Bridget tried not to let it sting, but it distracted her all through dinner. When they got to the club afterward, she downed two shots of vodka in the same number of minutes and hit the dance floor, ignoring her friends’ concerned looks. She didn’t want to tell them about Alex ignoring her, even if it wasn’t intentional. All she wanted to do was lose herself in the music and maybe, if she let her hair down, a new dance partner.

  Five drinks into the night, she’d found multiple. Her current was a jock, his beefy arms almost busting through his white T-shirt. When the pulsing beat of the song ended, someone pulled her away from him.

  “Hey, hey, hey,” Bridget said.

  “Time to go home, princess,” Jordan said.

  “But I’m not done dancing,” Bridget whined.

  Lu appeared at her other side. “Yes, you are. Trust me—you’ll thank us in the morning.”

  As they led her out of the club, Bridget asked, “Can I at least stay with you two tonight?”

  Tipsy as she was, Bridget didn’t miss the weighted glance between her friends.

  “Trouble in paradise?” Jordan asked nonchalantly.

  Bridget grumbled. She wanted to get into it, but she didn’t want to get into it. She didn’t know what she wanted. Besides ten hours of uninterrupted sleep.

  It wasn’t until they’d made it back to the apartment and all collapsed in the living room that Jordan ventured, “Does this have anything to do with Alex being busy tonight?”

  Bridget threw up her hands. “It’s Friday night! And she’s doing work! For her internship. That pays her a pittance. This was supposed to be our summer.”

  Lu reached an arm around her shoulders. “Oh, Bridge, I know, but this is really important for her career.”

  “It’ll be better in the long run,” Jordan said. “Just make the time you do get to be together special.”

  Bridget sighed into Lu’s shoulder. They had good points, but her brain was foggy and she didn’t have the energy to talk about it anymore.

  In the morning, though her hangover was rather staggering, she stumbled back home at a very respectable ten AM only to find Alex still asleep.

  Bridget brushed her teeth for the second time that morning before changing into one of Alex’s old T-shirts and getting into bed with her.

  Stirring, Alex flipped to face her. “Hey. Thanks for the text last night.”

  “Mm-hmm.” Despite her hurt feelings, she would always let Alex know where she was. And even though she was still a little bit upset, Alex looked so darn adorable with her messy curls and bleary brown eyes that Bridget pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

  Alex hummed in contentment and closed her eyes. “What do you want to do today?”

  Bridget tucked herself close to Alex, one arm thrown over her waist. “I
thought you had a lot of work this weekend.”

  “I finished it last night.”

  Bridget raised an eyebrow even though Alex couldn’t see. “How late were you up?”

  “Late,” Alex said.

  “You had all weekend. Why’d you stay up?”

  Alex buried her nose in the crook of Bridget’s neck, nuzzling the skin there. “Because I’ve been working nonstop this summer, and that’s not fair to you.”

  “Alex…” Bridget dropped a kiss against Alex’s hair. “I haven’t been that fair to you, either.”

  Alex inhaled deeply and entwined their fingers. “It might take me a while to find a good balance, but I promise I’ll keep trying.”

  And they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

  Now

  Arms crossed, Alex sat at the end of the bench in their lane. The bowling alley smelled like popcorn and fried food, and the speakers were piping ‘90s pop songs. On any other night, with any other company, she’d be having a grand old time. Tonight, though, she’d been suckered into a night out. Which would have been fine had her friends not conveniently forgotten to tell her they’d invited Bridget and Max, too.

  They probably had bets on how long she’d last without insulting someone or downright escaping.

  Because that second option seemed more sensible, she was almost out of her seat when Lu, stationed by the computer screen, turned and said, “You’re up, Al.”

  Alex shook herself back into the real world. The rest of their group—Lu, Owen, Jordan, Max, and Bridget—all looked at her expectantly. She dragged herself over to the rack and sifted through, looking for a lightweight ball. She could use a heavier one, but they’d signed up for three games, and she was too competitive to allow flagging in the third.

  “Oh, hey!” Bridget grabbed an orange ball from a nearby rack and held it out. “This is only six pounds.”

  Alex took it, the brush of Bridget’s hands against hers sending her right back into the land of the dazed. “Thanks.”

  Bridget grinned. “No problem,” she said, retaking her seat beside Max.

  Alex stepped onto the pine ledge. She took a deep breath. She could deal with being in the same room as her ex. No big deal at all.

  Her throw split the pins, leaving the seven and the ten. Despite trying her best to add some spin, she hit only one of the remaining pins with her second throw. Her friends clapped anyway.

  “You’ll get that split next time,” Jordan assured her.

  “I’m crap at splits, and you know it,” Alex said, smiling nevertheless.

  As Max got up to bowl his frame, Owen said, “So, some mysterious benefactor paid for the school roof out of the blue. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you, Bridget?”

  “Me? No.” Bridget said, much too nonchalantly, then clapped wildly when Max got a strike.

  That was the Bridget Alex knew. Generous, but embarrassed by attention for it.

  “Huh,” Owen said, clearly not convinced.

  An unfamiliar tug in her chest, Alex wasn’t sure why she said, “Could have been one of those rich old coots who live on top of the hill.”

  “Yeah,” Lu scoffed, picking out a ball. “You know how they like to die and leave barrels of money to the town.”

  Owen frowned, but Jordan rested a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. Then she turned to Bridget. “How’s your ankle feeling?”

  Alex huffed, annoyed with herself. That little display of kindness hadn’t been in her plans.

  “I had to stay off it the rest of the day and ice it on and off on Sunday,” Bridget said, “but it’s back to normal now. Thanks for asking.” She jumped up. “Who’s up for snacks? I’ll get the first round!”

  Jordan motioned her back into her seat. “No, seriously, you paid for our games and shoes. You can at least let us get the pizza and beer.”

  Max half-smiled and tugged a frowning Bridget gently back to the bench, where she pulled one knee against her chest. Something unspoken passed between them, eliciting a sting of jealousy from Alex. She squashed it immediately.

  “Any special requests?” Jordan asked.

  Alex lifted a hand. “I’ll take some —”

  “Yes, mozzarella sticks for you,” Jordan cut her off. “We already know.”

  “You know you own a bar, right?” Lu teased. “You can get bar food anytime.”

  “Oh, don’t take her fried cheese away from her,” Owen said. “She wouldn’t be Alex if she weren’t completely predictable.”

  “Come on, guys,” Bridget said, locking gazes with Alex. “She’s not completely predictable. Besides, even if she is, who cares? She’s steady. Steady is good.”

  “At least someone appreciates me,” Alex said with a nod at Bridget. “For your efforts, you get a mozzarella stick.” God, were they flirting?

  Bridget lifted a hand to her heart and dipped her chin. “I’m honored.”

  For a second, it was almost easy. To forget the pain they’d caused each other in the past. To forget the chasm gaping between them now.

  Owen stood. “I’ll come with you, Jor.”

  Also easy to snap out of it.

  As Jordan and Owen walked away, Lu made a fake-disgusted face, drawing a laugh from Max. “Sometimes they give me heartburn,” she said. “Single suits me just fine, thank you.”

  “Same,” Max said.

  “Oh?” Lu asked. She flicked a hand between him and Bridget. “So…you two…”

  “No,” Bridget said quickly. “Never.”

  “Gee, thanks,” Max said.

  Alex didn’t miss Lu’s pointed look her way, but she ignored it to focus on Bridget, whose face had reddened. How many times had she been asked that question by the press?

  Bridget smacked Max in the ribs. “You know what I meant.”

  Her gaze slid past him to catch Alex staring. Not staring. Just looking. There was no harm in that.

  Still, she looked away and tossed a wadded-up gum wrapper at Lu’s head. “Whose turn is it? You’re slacking over there.”

  Lu stuck out her tongue. “Bridget’s up.”

  “Oh, sorry!” Bridget moved to select a bowling ball. Her skinny jeans hugged everything just right, from hips to thighs to calves.

  When Alex forced her eyes away, Max was regarding her with a curious expression, one eyebrow lifted.

  She returned his look. “What?”

  He shrugged. “Nothing.” But a smile lingered on his lips.

  Bridget’s throw was perfect, knocking down all ten pins. “Yes!” She whirled around, clapping and grinning. “Did you see that?” She high-fived Lu and Max before flopping back onto the bench.

  “Nice one,” Lu said. Owen was up next, but he and Jordan hadn’t returned yet.

  The conversation lagged. Alex untied and retied the laces of her bowling shoes. It wasn’t awkward, exactly. Just…sad. She was sad. Overhead, the music changed to a Mariah Carey song, one that pulled up long-ignored memories of middle school dances and sleepovers.

  Bridget squealed in delight, jumping up to dance right there in the middle of the bowling alley. “Lu! Alex! Do you remember this? This was our jam!”

  Max, laughing, allowed her to pull him to his feet. His fluid movements matched hers. Lu rolled her eyes, but even she started wiggling in her seat.

  “Come on! For old times’ sake!” Bridget said to Alex, reaching out a hand.

  “This is crazy,” Alex said in an effort to stop her smile.

  “What, having fun? You never did like dancing.”

  No, she never had. She was more an observer, a wallflower, though Bridget had a way of letting her forget that.

  Bridget leaned forward, scrunched her eyes shut, and sang a few lines enthusiastically—exactly like she used to do in their bedrooms on weekend nights. Alex erupted
in laughter. Maybe Bridget hadn’t changed so much at all. Was that a good thing or a bad thing?

  “I can’t dance,” she protested, a weary refrain from a past life, even as she allowed Bridget to pull her to her feet.

  “Are you moving? Is there music on?” Bridget asked. “Then you’re dancing.”

  And then it was all shouting lyrics in each other’s faces and hopping around and never, ever letting their hands break apart. For one brief, shining moment, being adult enough to be friends seemed possible.

  Owen and Jordan’s return broke the spell. Their arms were laden with food, and Lu and Max beelined for it. Alex retook her seat, leaving Bridget to finish out the song alone. Jordan handed her a cup of beer. Throat dry, she gulped down a third of it and blamed her shortness of breath on the dancing.

  After washing her hands, Bridget splashed water on her face and studied herself in the bathroom mirror. Being so close to Alex was both thrilling and agonizing. She wanted to jump right back in with both feet, and sometimes, it seemed like Alex was right there on the edge with her. Then Alex’s eyes would go cold and she’d step away and they’d be back to barely speaking. Bridget splashed her face again, toweled it off, and left the bathroom.

  And walked right into a group of giggling teenage girls, phones out, whispering among themselves, awkwardly adorable. Faced with her idol at their age, Bridget would have been much more of a mess.

  “Hi,” she said, setting off another round of high-pitched laughter.

  “We love you, Bridget! Can we get a picture with you?” a redhead said.

  “Of course!” Bridget shuffled the group away from the bathroom door and in front of a rack of bowling balls.

  She threw her arms around the two on either side of her as the brunette at the end of their group took half a dozen selfies. She spent the next ten minutes chatting with the girls, taking individual photos with each of them, and signing everything from phone cases to forearms.

  “Tag me in those, okay?” she said when they were through, evoking giant grins.

  Four of the girls hurried back to their lane. The smallest, Jenny, lingered, wringing her hands.