The Temporary Virginity of the American Player

26. The Car Salesman Wants My Girl.

I woke up next to a girl the next morning. Not just any girl, though. I woke up to one whose name I remembered. I couldn't have been happier with that. I woke up before her, but instead of waking her up and telling her to get a move on, I just laid there with her head in the crook of my arm, her breath falling against my chest and crazy bedhead hair tickling my neck. I kind of liked that, I guess, and stayed put for a couple of hours.

I looked out the window, watching sunlight stream in through a pair of thin curtains. The rain was gone, as was the loud crashes of thunder and flashes of lightening we had made love to the night before. I almost wished the storm would return.

Lena moaned next to me and slowly opened her eyes. "Good morning."

"Good morning."

She sat up with a yawn, sporting a crazy mess of hair. "What time is it?"

"A little past nine." I sat up behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist. Her hand touched mine and she looked at me with tired saucer eyes. "Don't get up yet. Check out isn't until eleven."

"I have to," she sighed. "I have to get my car towed. And I need to call Lane and then I need to call Victor and tell him Boston's off and I need to-"

"Boston's off?"

"With the car the way it is and now...well, now us, I don't think now's the best time to go anymore."

"But what about the friend of the friend and the recording session?"

She shrugged and said, "What about it? I can sing around here."

"Lena, there's a chance of recording an album. There's no way you should blow that just because of me. You should go."

She looked at me. "I'm really confused, Nick. You told me that you didn't want me to go."

"I don't," I agreed. "But it's not about what I want. It's about what you want. And I know you want this."

"Nick-"

"I don't want you to throw it away because of me. I-"

"Nick, just shut-up," she said, leaning in to kiss me. I let her. When she was done, she just leaned back and looked at me. "I want you more than I want Boston."

"I'll be here when you get back," I said quietly. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I don't want to be someplace where you're not," she shrugged, gripping my hand. "And you can't come because of school. I don't need to go, I can just ask for a raincheck and stay at the café a little longer and-"

"No."

"Just save up some more money for a new car and then when I have that, I can just drive up to Boston then and-"

"Lena, shut-up," I snapped, and ran a hand through my hair. "I want you to go to Boston. I want you to go to Boston because you want to go to Boston. I want you to go to Boston, stay with your friend for a while, and get yourself into that recording studio. And I want you to call me every single day and send me pictures and text me and send me presents and tell me everything about everything every step of the way. And when you come back from Boston, I want you to come straight home to me. That's what I want, and I want you to want that because you earned that. You don't have to give up on one dream just to have the other."

She smiled, a bit teary-eyed, and hugged me tight enough to break me in half.

"You really want me to go?"

"Yes, I want you to go. We're going to get your car fixed and then you're going to go. But I swear to God, if we go through all this and you don't come back, then I'm going to Boston to kill you."