Page 114 of The Music of Us
“She’s right,” Phillip agreed, nodding sagely. “They’re both idiots.”
“That is not what I said,” I protested, though he may have had a point.
What should I do? I knew the truth, that Jake liked me. Even when he thought I was purposely ignoring him, he sat down and wrote a song, hoping it’d find me.
Hoping I’d hear what he really wished he could say.
My eyes snapped to the boys. “How fast do you think I can make it to the airport?”
Together, they whooped excitedly, surprisingly invested.
Jake was less than ten minutes ahead of me. If I rushed, maybe I could catch him before he made it through security.
I grabbed my keys, starting for the door, then whirled back around to the guys. “Wait, can one of you tell me what airline Jake’s on?”
“I can come with you and show you,” Aspen exclaimed. “And I can drive too, so you don’t have to worry about parking!” He snatched the car keys out of my hand. “Don’t worry about not making it in time, I took driving lessons from Sir Lewis Hamilton.”
“Sir Lew—” I broke off. “The Formula One driver?”
“Yeah. Lewis isgreat. He’s reached over two hundred and twenty miles per hour.”
“I appreciate the enthusiasm, but no.” When I mentioned a race to the airport, I meant race as incomplying with local traffic laws and going the speed limit, not getting on Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride.
I plucked the keys out of Aspen’s hands only to dodge another bandmate grabbing for them.
“Iwill come with you, then,” Phillip chimed in. “I can drive too.”
I spared him a glance. “On the correct side of the road?”
“Uh... most of the time,” he said. “I mean, it depends on what you consider the ‘correct’ side of the road. Iam—”
“British,” Aspen said dryly. “Yes, you’ve mentioned that.”
I turned to Leon. “How about you? You want to get your offer to drive in?”
“Nah, I’m good,” he told me cheerfully. “Iamcoming with you, though.”
All three boys moved toward the door.
“Guys, this is sweet,” I said, “but I don’t need all of you to come with me. I just need one of you to tell me what flight—”
“That’s me,” Leon piped up. “I know where it is. Take me.”
“No way areyougetting to be the one to see how this plays out,” Aspen said, shoving himself in between Leon and me. “If it wasn’t for me spilling the beans, she wouldn’t even be on her way to the airport right now.I’mgoing with Lucy.”
“Maybe Lucy doesn’t want to go with two excitable knuckleheads,” Phillip said, shocking me as he flanked my other side. “Which is why I should be the one who gets to go.”
“Actually,” said Amber, who’d entered the room while we were all arguing, “I think I should also come.”
“Amber?” I asked in shock. “Not you too?”
“Of course. We already decided I’d always be your getaway car driver, remember?” She gave me a wink and plucked the keys from my hand, before turning toward the lost and found box and gleefully tossing a few stray hats and scarves at the band. “Put on some disguises, boys. We’ve got an airport to get to.”
Chapter Thirty-One
“I wrote ‘Lovely, Aren’t Ya’ about someone special,” Jake tells me. “She...” He trails off, like he’s lost in a memory or a daydream. “She seemed like she was made for a melody.” He looks me in the eye, and with the tone only someone still lovestruck can have, says, “If you met her, you’d understand.”
—“Behind the Hit: Twenty Questions with Debut Songwriter Jake Moody”
