(A/N: the song used later in this chapter, is poison & wine by the music duo: The Civil Wars:)
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"You ready?" I question, standing outside of Ricky's mom's house, with our bags around us.
Ricky sighs, shaking his head, "I don't understand why we couldn't go to your Aunt's house first."
"I also don't understand why we had to Uber from the airport, instead of asking one of them to pick us up, but.." I sarcastically trail.
When he did not react or retaliate, I grew concerned, "Bowen, everything's gonna be fine."
"Don't leave me alone with her." He pleads, avoiding my gaze by staring ahead.
"I...won't." I tried to sound as gentle as possible, but nothing could hide my baffled state. I'm not used to comforting Ricky Bowen.
"Can I.." I trail, motioning at the doorbell.
Ricky nods, struggling to regain his breath, "Yeah."
I noticed his breathing was shaky and irregular as soon as we arrived; knowing exactly how he is feeling, I decided to help the that Carlos always helps me.
"Can you breathe for me?" Again, trying to sound gentle, as I turned around to face him.
Confusion crossed his face, so I motioned for him to follow by raising my hands as I inhaled and lowering them as I exhaled.
He immediately caught on and began to inhale and exhale with me. Ricky shut his eyes, starting to relax a bit.
After a moment, the corners of his mouth quirk up playfully, as his eyes flutter open, "Is that the yoga stuff your aunt teaches you?" Ricky sarcastically assumes.
"Not yoga. And Carlos did." I correct, huffing a laugh, "It always helps me."
He offers a smile, appearing grateful, "Thanks, Sweeney." Quietly.
"Yeah." I mumble, sending a quick nod of encouragement, before finally ringing the doorbell.
Soon, the door swung open, revealing his mother, Lynne, with tearful eyes. They immediately embrace each other in a hug.
***********************
I did not leave Ricky and his mother alone together, as per his request. However, it didn't seem like Lynne wanted to have the discussion he was fearing anyway.
There was an underlining discomfort, even when we were laughing and having a conversation at lunch, full of unspoken words.
They were trying so hard to avoid it, they would switch the topic to me instead.
"So, wait," Ricky starts, as our laughter over nothing fizzled out. "Which one is she again? Carlotta?" He questions, puzzled.
Lynne gasps, "How do you not know?!"
"Claudette," I correct. "You're thinking of the Prima Donna in Phantom, and I'm honestly surprised you are."
After taking a sip of soda from a can, Ricky scoffs a laugh, "Never seen it."
His confession causes his mom and I to share a look of shock.
"You've never seen The Phantom of the Opera?!" I exclaim.
Lynne chuckles, holding her hands up in disbelief, "What?!"
Ricky shrugs, "I'm surprised you've seen it, Mom."
She waves it off, "Where do you think you got the musical gene?"
"We all got it from somewhere." I point out.
Lynne smiles, "Laura tells me you got yours from your acting coach of a dad."
I nod proudly, "I did."
"She also showed me that song.." She trails off in admiration, causing me to smile. "It was incredible. You're so talented. My son is very lucky."
Ricky and I share a look of fake admiration. "Yeah." He blurts, intertwining our hands to look natural, while on display on the table.
"I'm just gonna say," Lynne starts, throwing her hands up in defense, "When I saw you guys on stage together, I felt the connection! I remember thinking, "They're young, but...that's it." I could see it." She winks.
Her words make Ricky and me share an awkward laugh, as he gently squeezes my hand.
"So, I don't mean to pry, but.." She pauses for the dramatic, with her chin in her hand curiously, sighing in admiration, "How did you know?"
Ricky uncomfortably glances over, "Know what?"
"How did you know you were in love! What did you first notice about each other?" She grins.
We waited for the other person to speak first, for a brief period of time, while simply staring at one other.
When Ricky stayed silent, I blurted out, "His eyes."
He became confused, even taken aback, as my gaze never left his. But his eyes softened, the corners of his mouth quirked up. It was almost like Ricky was admiring the way I picked the most basic thing to say when people ask couples what they like most about each other. Or, in other words, what I'd choose if I had to pick one thing I liked about him.
I huff a laugh, "Yeah." tearing my gaze away to meet his mother's soft smile.
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"So," Lynne starts, taking our plates to the kitchen, "When is Laura gonna get here-"
She paused upon taking notice of my bags by the door, "Bianca, make yourself at home! Your room is upstairs."
I wave it off, "No, it's okay. I'm staying with my aunt."
Confusion crosses her face, "In her studio apartment? Honey, you can't stay there. There's plenty of room here."
"Oh." I blurt, sharing an awkward glance with Ricky, "Thank you!"
"Go unpack!" She encourages, "And then we'll explore the city. Millennium Park, The Bean, and shopping. Then Deep-dish for dinner!"
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While unpacking my toiletry bag, Ricky walked in with his gaze on his phone, and a bag in hand, confusing me.
"Your phone keeps going off, Sweeney." Ricky informs, standing in the doorway, "It's probably-" I cut him off.
"Wait, what are you doing?"
He meets my gaze, setting his bag down next to the sink, "Putting my stuff away." Shrugging, as if it were obvious.
I keep my puzzled gaze on him, "Bowen, this is my bathroom. Get your own."
He scoffs a laugh, "Sweeney, she's gonna catch on. Couples share bathrooms."
"Not all of them." I protest, crossing my arms.
"Unhappy couples."
"I need my own space!"
"We're sharing a bed, Sweeney. You'll live." He taunts.
I shake my head, "Absolutely not. You're taking the floor."
"It's my mom's house. You're taking the floor." He shot back.
"What a gentleman." I taunt, and he mockingly smiles.
"What were you even saying? It's probably who?" I question, picking up where I cut him off.
"Our phones keep going off. Mine is because Big Red is yelling at me for not joining the Zoom rehearsal. Yours is probably Carlos doing the same."
I nod in agreement, "Probably." With my attention on zipping my bag up, "I gotta call him."
"Gonna tell Carlos how much you love my eyes?" Ricky teases.
I glare, meeting his gaze, "I lied, Bowen. None of this is real." I remind.
"Yeah, but.." He starts, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorframe, "I thought you were a bad liar." He mockingly smiles.
I shrug, "Yeah. But I'm a great actress, though." I boast, returning the mocking smile, as I push past him to leave.
Ricky huffs a laugh, with nodding in approval.
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"You're not gonna bring a jacket, Sweeney?" Ricky questions, puzzled, while putting on his favorite, denim, sherpa-lined jacket.
Walking downstairs, I shake my head, "Nope. It's not even that cold."
"It's freezing, and you're always cold." He points out, slipping off his jacket and throwing it to me. I flinched but was successful in catching the jacket.
"Oh, come on," Lynne chimes in, fixing the sleeves of her gray coat, "Don't argue with her. You're gonna end up giving her your jacket your whole life anyway." She grins.
Ricky huffs a laugh, "Then it gets lost." He mumbled so only I could hear.
While slipping on the jacket, I mockingly smile, which he returns.
"I meant to ask," His mom earns the attention, "Did you guys start dating before or after opening night?"
Ricky tensed up at the mention of that night; the night he has been trying to avoid talking about with her. My wide eyes uncomfortably darted to him.
"Before." I blurt, smiling casually.
"Oh." She grins, though growing concerned when she noticed her son's odd state.
"My friends, like, my castmates..." Ricky trails, "They think it sucks what you did that night... Showing up with Todd." He finally blurted out.
Shock and guilt cross Lynne's face, "Okay.." She quietly trails, putting her thoughts in order.
"Yeah, it wasn't okay, actually." Ricky blurts. His mother stared at him, not entirely sure what to say.
"I guess, I thought... that if you met Todd, you'd see what I saw." After confessing, she shook her head at her past actions, "But... I'm sorry."
"Sorry enough to move back home?" Ricky mutters, averting his gaze.
"Everybody changes." She starts, a nervous smile tugging her lips.
"I don't!" Ricky snaps.
Tears fill her eyes, "Maybe that's how you changed. Maybe that's my fault." Lynne was trying to take accountably, she knew it was her fault—well, the majority. "I use to be like that."
"Use to?" Ricky questions, puzzled.
She nods, offering a small smile, "Yeah. But then, I started to keep busy, started doing things for myself. It made me appreciate the now, and look forward to the future."
"Got any tips?"
"Yoga, therapy. And for you, maybe writing a song?" She suggests, smiling softly.
Ricky hums in acknowledgment, pondering on the thought.
I huff a laugh, admiring the last suggestion, "That's what my dad use to say when I was younger. I never listened." I attempted to lighten the mood since I was awkwardly watching. They laugh lightly.
"Dye your hair." She ended her suggestions by pointing at me.
I nod along, "Yeah. I did bring my hair dye."
Ricky's eyes narrow, shaking his head, "Why?" huffing a laugh.
"I gotta touch up my roots. My aunt was supposed to help, but I don't think she's coming." I mumbled the last sentiment.
Lynne offers a sympathetic smile, "She'll be here."
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At this point, it's not unusual for people to bail on me. And the thing about getting stood up, even by people you love, whether it's friends or family, anyone really- for some people, it starts to hurt less and less each time, and I am one of those people.
Without so much as a phone call or text stating a valid excuse, my aunt failed to show up. Lynne then volunteered to assist me in touching up my roots.
She put a random chair in her bathroom, in front of the mirror, and gave me a baby pink towel over my shoulders to protect my clothes from the dye.
"So, you're supposed to be on a Zoom meeting right now?" Lynne questions, finishing up my hair with the large tint brush.
I huff a laugh, nodding, "I think I speak for both Ricky and myself when I say that we both need a break."
She nods in agreement, setting the brush in a small bowl, "It is spring break."
The sound of her phone ringing makes her remove it from her pocket, "It's work. I'll be right back." She smiles, walking away. I smile and nod.
After a moment of waiting, Ricky walks in, holding his phone. "Big Red sent me a video. Apparently they, like, wrote a song without us?"
My brows furrow, scoffing a laugh, "In a day?" looking at him through the mirror.
He nods, "And a dance. Big Red edited it and wants us to watch it."
I playfully shake my head in shame, "Okay, fine." He crouched down beside me, holding the phone at an angle so both of us could watch.
After watching the video for the song entitled You Ain't Seen Nothin', Ricky and I share shocked expressions.
"Okay." He blurts, staring at the now blank screen.
I huff a laugh, nodding in agreement, "I can hear Carlos yelling at me for missing that."
"What were you guys watching?" Lynne questions, emerging from her room.
Ricky sighs, standing up, "Our castmates wrote a whole song and dance without us."
"Given we've ignored them all day." I sarcastically add.
"Ooh," My remark was drowned out by Lynne's hum of admiration, "See? That's a sign you should write a song, too!"
Ricky huffs an uncomfortable laugh, "I'm not really a songwriter."
She waves it off, "Good thing your girlfriend is."
Ricky and I exchange an awkward smile through the mirror in response to her remark.
"Also, I have to go. But I won't be out long, it's a work emergency. And you've got the rest of your hair?" She checks in.
I nod, "Yeah!" Lying through my teeth.
"I'll be back." She assures, walking out.
Ricky scoffs a laugh, "That was a lie."
"She said it's for work." I remind.
He crosses his arms, "No, you. Have you never done your hair by yourself before?"
"I have! I just hate the washing out part when I'm by myself."
He shrugs casually, "I could help you."
My eyes narrow as confusion crosses my face.
"After you, HoneyB." He jokingly insists, bringing up the stupid nickname he made up on opening night, while holding his hand out for me to walk out first.
I scoff and roll my eyes, "Not that again."
I grab the Hair Color Conditioner, walking out of the bathroom, "We don't need the bathroom?" I sarcastically question, wondering where he is leading me.
We ended up in the kitchen, Ricky switched on the faucet above the apron sink.
"It's perfect." He insists, shrugging.
I cross my arms, "And ruin your mom's sink?"
"Do you want my help or not?" He challenges, grabbing a chair and setting in front of the sink.
I sigh and roll my eyes, taking a seat, "Fine."
"The water has to be cold." I inform, switching the faucet before leaning my head back, "I'm trusting you with my life right now, Bowen. Don't make me regret it."
"Oh, you will." He jokes, grinning. I roll my eyes.
"Do you need something to cover your eyes?" Ricky questions, holding his hand over my eyes for show.
"No, I'm not a child!" in a fake-defensive tone, gathering some water on my fingertips to flick it onto him. Ricky held his hand out to act as a shield.
"You're not a child, but you're childish." He teases, squeezing the Hair Color Conditioner onto his hands.
I playfully gasp, "You are childish!"
"All right, all right," He jokingly dismisses, gently pushing my shoulder back until I am under the water.
"You're not wearing gloves!" I sat up to warn.
"I need gloves?" Pure confusion.
I nod, laughing, "Your hands and the sink are gonna turn blue!"
He shakes his head in playful shame, "You're evil. Cover your damn eyes, it's stressing me out!"
"Fine," I lean back, covering my eyes with my hands.
As his hands started massaging my scalp, I instantly felt at ease. This portion always feels wonderful, as anyone who has been to a hair salon knows, but right now it feels even better.
I removed my hands, sneaking a glance at Ricky's stressed and concentrated features. He has a gorgeous face when he is not arguing with me, I noticed.
He finally met my gaze, which snapped me out of my thoughts, "Cover your eyes, remember?!"
"Right," I blurt, obliging.
"This is, in fact, ruining the sink." He confirms my suspicion.
I gasp, uncovering my eyes, "I told you!" We share a laugh.
This time, I simply closed my eyes instead of covering them. Maybe it was all in my head, but I felt his eyes on me. I was secretly hoping that, maybe he was admiring me, the way I had just done with him.
While his hands were still working through my hair, my suspicions were once again confirmed when Ricky spoke, "You have a little freckle by your left eyebrow." like he was concentrating on my face instead of my hair.
I did not open my eyes, only smiled, "I'm aware."
He huffs a laugh, turning off the faucet, "Okay, I think I'm done."
"Finally." I tease, sitting up.
"I think you mean "thank you"?" He playfully reminds, taking the towel from around my shoulder to catch the droplets falling from my hair.
I huff a laugh, "Thanks. You actually did really good. You were careful."
He points at me, raising his brows, "Thanks to you covering your eyes." We laugh, I then take notice of the blue on his hands.
"You're wounded!" I joke, pointing to the stain.
"Just leave me." He shuts his eyes, with a theatrical tone, hands out in showcase.
We laugh, as he moves closer to give me a better look. I gasp, placing my smaller hand on his knuckles, gliding my thumb over his palm where the blue dye stained.
I have no idea why I did it, why he kept his hand there, or why the tension changed and it felt like we could not pull away from each other.
"I have some rubbing alcohol," I blurt, after a moment.
He flinches and quickly steps away, "Right,"
"..which will get the stain out." I continue, "And out of the sink."
He nods along, "Of course, yeah." We laugh, almost as though to temporarily cover the heavy tension.
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"New clothes, my hair is dry," I announce, earning Ricky's attention, "And your mom should be home soon."
His brows furrow, nodding in fake admiration, "I was dying to know." I mockingly smile. He shifts his attention back to the piano.
"You can't hide up here." My voice was quiet, and my tone wasn't taunting, it was gentle.
He scoffs a laugh, "I'm not hiding."
"Bowen," I start, taking a seat next to him on the piano bench.
He meets my gaze, puzzled, "You've been being really nice all day. I'm concerned."
I huff a laugh, nodding in agreement, "So am I."
We stared at each other, not entirely sure what to say.
I coyly break the silence, "Can I hear your song?"
He huffs, "It's not done yet- barely started."
"What's it about, anyway?" I question.
"Everything I hate in my life." He jests.
"Me?" I sarcastically question, we share a gentle laugh.
"Weird thing is, that's usually true. But, in this moment, you're the only good thing in my life."
I was taken aback, and it looked like he was even surprised by his own words.
"I just meant like.." He blurts.
"I know." I assure, "That's kinda how I feel about you right now." I quietly admit.
We exchange soft smiles.
I still didn't quite get Howie's spiel about Kourtney, but I do know that he was right about one thing: you don't hate someone for no reason. Ricky and I do match each other's wits extremely well, even Carlos pointed that out.
And it is usually us against each other. So, I am not sure how to react. I'm not gonna fall on my sword and call Ricky a friend, and I know he feels the same way about me.
Things feel awkward, but nice, at the same time. We get each other in a way that no one else does.
"How are you?" I quietly question.
Ricky shrugs, averting his gaze, "I don't know. I just feel like everything's getting ripped away from me." He huffs a laugh to disguise his despair.
"Did you notice it at all? The downfall of your parents before they divorced? Like, did you see it coming?" I question.
"To be honest, I knew. I just didn't wanna believe it. My mom came here for a while on a "business trip." He puts up air quotes, pausing for the dramatic.
I scoff a laugh, "That's never good."
He huffs a laugh, "Right. Yeah, I kinda suspected something when she wasn't back within a month. Then when she came back, that day at blocking rehearsal when Miss Jenn sent us to her office, they told me that they were separating."
"And it felt like the end of the world?" I remind, tone questioning.
He nods, "Yeah."
I offer a small smile, "But it wasn't. And it won't be this time."
He smiles, "Thanks. That should be on a mug." He teases.
I chuckle gently, "It probably already is."
"Can I say something?" He blurts.
I shrug, "Sure."
The corners of his mouth quirk up smugly, "I was right about Howie."
I nod in agreement, "Unfortunately I believe the two girlfriends thing."
"I told you!"
"And, apparently he goes to North High? He told me he's homeschooled." My eyes narrow.
His brows furrow, "So, he's, like, a spy from the inside?"
I shrug, "I don't know. He and Kourtney hated each other, then fell in in love." I explain, shaking my head in shame.
Ricky mirrors my judgmental look for emphasis, "How'd that happen?"
I scoff a laugh, shrugging, "I have no idea."
"We really know how to pick 'em, don't we?" He sarcastically points out.
I nod in agreement, eyes widen in fake horror, "We do. Speaking of, how are you after the breakup?"
He sighs, averting his gaze as he puts his thoughts in order, "I saw it coming, but it still hurts. That's kinda how things are for me, you know?" He trails.
I nod in acknowledgment, he meets my gaze.
"I could see everything coming, like my parents' divorce, and mine and Nini's break up, but I ignore it because I don't want anything to change. Now that all of that's gone.." He trails, dumbfounded.
"How do you do that?" He blurts, falling off-topic.
My brows furrow, "Do what?"
"Get me to talk. I hate talking about my feelings, and it just kinda comes out with you." He huffs in disbelief.
I shrug, "I have no idea." We share a light laugh.
"But, now that all of that's gone," He picks up where he left off, "I can already feel myself changing, I'm becoming someone different and I don't know if I like it." He quietly admits.
"I like who you're becoming." My voice was hardly above a whisper.
He was taken aback at my sincerity, though it was coy. His eyes softened in admiration.
"Because you were a bitch before." I jest, my words breaking our intense stares.
Ricky huffs a laugh, shaking his head, "I don't really disagree. But, to be fair, so were you!"
I put my hands up in surrender, "I haven't changed though."
He shrugs, "Sure you have. You love yourself now. You also put others first, and are a lot better at comforting others."
My smile faltered, as did his; fearing he said something wrong.
"You noticed?" Again, my voice was hardly above a whisper.
He smiles, "Yeah. How'd you do it?"
"I realized I'm a bad bitch." I joke, we share a laugh.
He nods in agreement, "I honestly can't disagree with that, either."
"Yeah, you've called me a bitch before." I playfully remind.
He scoffs, shutting his eyes in embarrassment, "And clingy."
"That one hurt!"
"You're a little clingy." He teases.
I playfully roll my eyes, "And I'm a little bit of a bitch."
He dismissively waves it off, "You just stick up for yourself. It's kinda intimidating."
"So, you went down the toxic road and called me a bitch for it?" My tone is still playful, but there is truth behind my words and he knows it. Not in a mean way this time, but he needed to be called out.
Ricky nods, clicking his tongue in embarrassment, "Yeah. I'm sorry about that."
I playfully shake my head as the corners of my mouth quirk up, "It's okay."
"I've never seen you smile this much," Ricky starts, admiring my grin. "Because of me, I mean. I like it."
His words made my eyes soften, almost taken aback. And with my smile still wide, heat rose to my cheeks.
"You're blushing." He points out in admiration, grinning.
"I'm not!" I chuckle, covering my face in embarrassment.
"I made the intimidating Bianca Sweeney blush?" Ricky teases.
His words only fueled the uncomfortable heat on my face. My face is probably crimson at this point.
"And she's at a loss for words!" He playfully announces.
With my hands still covering my face, I shake my head in shame, "Shut up!" I blurt, we continue laughing.
I removed my hands when I could finally form words again, "Just because I'm tolerating you today, doesn't mean I won't still kill you tomorrow."
Ricky puts his hands up in playful defense, "And just because I think you're cute, doesn't mean I'm not still afraid of you."
Our laughter fizzled out, and the silence that passed was gentle, yet uncomfortable.
"You don't bring out the worst in people." I quietly blurt.
"We both said things-" He quickly justified so I wouldn't feel guilty, but I cut him off.
"You bring out the vulnerable in me, and I hate that part of myself so much. Like what you said earlier, it just comes out with you." I confess, smiling softly.
"So, do you trust me?" He pauses for the dramatic.
My brows furrow, puzzled, "I don't think so?"
"Be honest with me. Why didn't you audition?"
I sigh, shrugging, "I auditioned for EJ last time." His fake gasp cuts me off.
"Did you?!" He teases, pretending to be shocked.
I nod, "Surprise." We laugh.
"So," I went on, "I could always distract myself with that, you know? Like, whenever I was scared, I just had to remind myself that I was doing it for EJ."
"But, why?" He pressed.
"I lost my confidence after my dad left. I love him, but my mom isn't completely wrong about him. And I just see so much of him in who I am. I'm just scared that if I follow in his footsteps, I'll end up just like him. Just like how I ignored my family to text Howie, he'd do something like that."
I huff a laugh to disguise my despair and sincerity, "I want theater to feel like home again, but in the back of my mind, I'm just..scared."
"You're nothing like him." He is completely sincere, "You hate me but pretended to be my girlfriend in front of my dad, without me even having to ask. And now, in front of my mom. Everyone has chosen their boyfriend or girlfriend over their family at least once, so what you did during the snowstorm, that was completely normal. I just like taunting you." He grins.
I scoff a laugh, playfully shaking my head, "Thanks, Bowen."
"So, is your dad the reason why your mom hates theater so much?" He questions.
I nod, "Yep. She also hated how close he and I use to be, having something to bond over. And I think there was also a part of her that didn't want me to have a "that's your dream, Dad." moment like Troy. And, I mean, if I named my child after me, and they gravitated towards their dad, I'd be pretty upset too." I jest.
He hums in amusement, "You're named after her? I didn't know that."
I nod, "Yep. Blanche. I really didn't want her name, so my brother helped me find one that felt like me. Carlos helped me grow to like it, though."
He nodded along, "You know, before we met, and I just saw your name on the cast list, I thought: "Bianca Sweeney. Man, she sounds like a snob." He grins.
I chuckle, "Very funny, Richard."
"Thanks, Blanche." He teases, we laugh.
"Another interesting fact? My mom and Mr. Mazzara were high school sweethearts. Lost touch when they went to college, then reconnected last year like nothing happened. Now he's, like, always around. And they're talking about marriage." I huff in disbelief.
He was nodding along, but before he could speak, I cut him off.
"Whatever." I wave it off, changing the subject, "I came here to get away from that, and you're supposed to be writing a song." I teasingly remind.
He sighs, playfully rolling his eyes, "And yet, I can't think of anything. You'd think the ideas would be pouring out, since it's been two weeks since the breakup."
"Maybe just.. summarize the relationship, then your feelings will come out." I prompt, shrugging.
He presses his lips together, pondering, "Summarize what? That we never truly loved each other?" Shock crosses his face after admitting that, almost like he did not mean to.
Even I am surprised, "Oh," my voice hardly above a whisper.
He nods, appearing almost relieved, "I think that's why she left after I didn't say the L word back, she was looking for an excuse to. Because when we got back together, she never pushed me to say it back."
"Wait, you never said it back?" I blurt, taken aback.
He shakes his head, "Nope. Didn't feel it. Never said that word out loud."
"Don't fall in love," I warn, huffing a laugh, "It sucks."
Ricky was a bit taken aback, but chose not to comment, and only nodded, "Noted."
I huff a laugh, then there is a moment of silence before realization dawns on him, and he blurts out, "Help me write the song?"
Shock crosses my face, "That could take all night. What if my aunt wants to meet up-"
"I'll go with you." Ricky suggests.
I glance over, pondering, "Fine," I cave in, downplaying a smile.
"Yes!" in victory.
"Let's write a song!" I grin.
***********************
We made the decision to write a song at 6:55 PM, and it was a little past midnight when we finally finished writing. I shuffled to sit cross-legged on the bench, beside Ricky, who prepared his guitar. We avoided each others' gaze.
He clears his throat and shuts his eyes, then finally begins strumming and singing, "You only know what I want you to,"
"I know everything you don't want me to," I sing, looking down at the strings.
I felt him look at me, as he continued, "Your mouth is poison, your mouth is wine,"
"You think your dreams are the same as mine," I felt a burning sensation take over my heart while watching his fingers pluck the strings.
We began the chorus together, "Ooh, I don't love you, but I always will. Ooh, I don't love you, but I always will. I don't love you, but I always will. I always will."
There was a pause as he strummed, so I glanced up. His warm, dark yet golden eyes carefully sprung to and fro both me, and the notebook filled with the lyrics; the messily crossed out drafts.
And the way his angelic voice sang for me with vulnerability. We were both sincere.
I noticed the big details like that, to the small ones like quick pauses between the chorus and the verse when he'd wet his lips out of nervousness—or habit, I wouldn't know: I've never taken the time to analyze him like this, or been interested enough to.
The corners of his mouth quirk up gently, making mine do the same, as I sing, "I wish you'd hold me when I turn my back."
"The less I give, the more I get back," He adds.
"Your hands can heal, your hands can bruise," I sang, swaying lightly.
"I don't have a choice, but I still choose you," He held the note, and I harmonized. We were still smiling, almost in admiration.
"Oh, I don't love you, but I always will," By the second chorus, my heart started pounding, after it sank. The lyrics were repetitive, and our smiles had vanished as the tension heightened, while still staring into each others' eyes.
"I always.. will." We ended the song with a note, and continued staring at one another; as if processing, like on New Years.
Unaware of the feeling that captured my heart, I stared at the boy before me—the boy that, if you would've asked me a week ago, I could've sworn I hated—with an ache in my chest.
He clears his throat and tears his gaze off me, "I think we did good."
"Yeah," I mutter, though it was barely audible. I had to force myself to speak.
Ricky turned over to set his guitar aside.
"I think so." I blurt, clearly this time, before taking a deep breath, "Going back to Salt Lake is going to be extremely weird, right?"
He nods in agreement, shutting his eyes in fake agony, "Absolutely."
******************
Standing in front of the closed door in the bathroom, my heart felt like it was trying to pound out of my chest, and I couldn't control my tears.
I've never known such an intense feeling. I kept downplaying the thought that this feeling could be caused by Ricky—because it couldn't be, that's impossible.
After calming down the best I could, I take a quick shower; letting the warm water soothe me.
I took my dry hair out of the messy bun I threw it up in for the shower, while wearing a silk black T-Shirt and matching shorts; before going back into the bedroom.
Upon opening the door, I'm met with a shirtless Ricky in bed, scrolling through his phone. He thankfully didn't notice that I was awestruck.
Shutting the door an inch, I scoff a laugh to snap out of it, "Need me to tuck you in?" I taunt.
"That'd be great, actually." Ricky grins, setting his phone aside on the nightstand.
My eyes narrow, "You're seriously making me take the floor?"
He glances over, puzzled, before patting the other side of the bed, "I'm pretty sure this bed has two sides."
My breath got caught in my throat, and my stomach filled with butterflies that I was quick to shoo off.
I playfully roll my eyes, "Fine." then slide into bed next to him.
I heard him shuffling next to me, getting comfortable as well; we were turned away from each other, with a good distance between us.
"Sweeney," He blurts.
"Yeah?" I question.
He pondered before asking, "Do we still hate each other?"
And I pondered before answering, "Ask me tomorrow."