After tucking the dinner dishes into the dishwasher, I turned to find Billy flicking through my vinyl records. He moved with swift intent. The needle dropped to his selection as he moved back to me, holding out his hands.
"You make me listen to 90s crap when you have a brilliant vinyl collection?"
"Nina Simone is my favorite," I murmured as he pulled me close for a waltz.
"I know." He spoke in a whisper. "So, tell me, Lily Turncott, how does a sweaty transient that makes melodic noises for a length of time get to steal so much of your attention?"
"Slow night."
"Seriously, you have seen no one?" The toying drained from his tone, leaving a severe murmur.
"I don't do great with relationships; I'm too selfish," I hypothesized.
"I don't believe that." He swung in a quick pivot to the music, causing my mind to whirl.
"Maybe you don't know me that well. I can be stubborn, and I'm not great at accepting help or kindness."
It was a persistent problem in my relationships; I'd always been stringently independent. Even the slightest hint of help would send me ricocheting away.
"Well, I guess our phone relationship has been working for you." His tone toyed with a tease.
"I like sex." It fell out quickly, and I immediately flushed.
"Noted." There were the dimples.
"I mean, I do relationships, but I don't want to depend on anyone. I don't want the carpet pulled out from me."
"And if the carpet doesn't slip away, or better, no carpets?" He met my eyes as we continued to twirl.
"There are always carpets. Besides, what are you looking for?" I was genuinely curious.
"What does that mean?" Irritation hit his tone.
"I mean, you're going to be hitting the road again. This is just a stop-over. You can't be looking for something traditional."
"I don't deserve traditional?" Hurt filled his voice.
"Can you define traditional?" I pressed.
"I want what everyone wants, someone I can turn to, lean on, trust."
"And when you turn or lean and that person is five states away?"
His back stiffened beneath my hands.
"Billy, I'll always answer your calls. I guess I don't understand what you're looking for from me. I'm not a follow-in-your-wake kind of girl. I have my own life and my own goals."
"Come with me this summer." His eyes met mine with a sparkle as his true intentions burst through.
"Because that doesn't sound like following in your wake. Billy, have you heard a word I've said?"
"Just for the summer. You aren't taking any classes. You can sublet your room. Come with me. I want to get to know you. No expectations other than more time." His words were urgent.
"Why? Why me?"
"When I'm with you, you quiet the things that could blow up at any moment, and I can feel the things to celebrate. I need someone to celebrate with right now." The truth was pouring from him.
"Is it that bad? Are you that lonely? What about the rest of the band?"
"They're different. They care about different things." A mix of fury and madness clouded his words. He dropped his hold on me and turned away. "They don't care about the music. If they play shitty, they get drunk and laid just as though they played their best. I just..." His words dropped out as he slumped to the couch. "This album is different. This will decide if I do this or if I go home and fix cars."
"What do you want?" My gentle words came as though I could scare him if I spoke any harsher.
"I want this, Lil; I love it. When people come out, when they care, there's nothing like it."
We both stared at his clasped hands for no reason. His knuckles went white from the tension.
"Please, come with me. This is it; this is the time. We wait, and you'll never come. As you said, you have your goals, and I want you to chase them. But this summer, you're working at a grocery store, and that's not a rung in your plan. Take a detour."
I felt 'yes' on my tongue. "This is crazy. We barely even know each other." I paced, trying to escape his proximity's intoxication.
"What are you talking about? The only person I talk to more is my mother." He burst from the couch after me. "Come home with me. I was going to stay here for a week, then back home for a week before we hit the road again. Come home with me. I want you to meet my mother."
"Can we talk about this later? Let's be near each other for a few days. We may hate each other in such proximity like a Seurat."
"Fuck Seurat. Don't prove a point with pointillism." He reached for me, trying to prevent my distancing. "And I'll never muster hate for you." His tone was suddenly quiet with defeat as his hands dropped. He changed the subject quickly. "I picked the last movie. It's your turn." He shot as he flopped back on the couch.
"All right, Rear Window." I gently sat next to him.
"I knew you'd pick that one." He murmured as he leaned deeper into the couch.
We watched in silence and then watched Journey Into Fear. Billy's arm didn't once fall to my shoulders. He didn't shirk me away when I leaned into him, but he didn't welcome me as I had hoped.
I didn't see a single frame nor hear a line in the movie. My mind spun on Billy's ask and the fear that snarled inside of me. This was his goal. He wanted a life on the road. He was right, the grocery store wasn't a rung on my ladder; I didn't have any rungs. It wasn't his question that birthed the growling animal inside me, it was his passion. He had a path and was willing to do whatever it took to get to his goal. I wanted that; I wanted to passion. Hiding in Billy's shadow would only make finding that passion harder.
"One more?" He asked as I stretched away from him.
"Billy, it's 1 am. I'm not on musician time," I yawned as I pulled myself from the couch.
"Okay." He didn't bother to cloud his disappointment.
"You coming?" I held out a hand to him.
"With you? No," he shook me off.
"What?" I stared back at him. "You came all this way; want me to spend the summer with you, but you won't sleep in the same bed as me."
He gave me an empty shrug.
"Is this because I won't go with you?"
"No,..."
Before he could continue, another idea crossed my mind. "Wait, is this because of other girls?"
"Seriously?" He glowered. "I got tested; I'm not an idiot."
"Well, I thought you were attracted to me, but here we are. You're either an idiot or a liar."
"Gentleman, why is a gentleman not even an option?" Exasperation permeated his tone.
"Oh, idiot. Got it." I was more annoyed by his rejection than I should've been, and it was presenting as anger.
"Lil," he called after me, but I didn't stop. If he wanted to discuss it more, he'd have to follow me.
He didn't follow. I laid in my bed, waiting for him, but after a few minutes, I heard him quietly strumming his guitar, cementing his lack of intention to follow. I fell asleep silently laughing at myself for being so stubborn. He was obnoxiously unpredictable, while also entirely expected.