Never now, p.23
Never Now, page 23
Holy fucking shit. This little fucker is playing “Never Now.” He’s playing my song.
Intense flashbacks to our final fight replay in my mind like a vivid show of colors.
“It’s never now for us, Reeve. Always later that’s riddled with excuses and hesitancy. Our love, our relationship is always tomorrow, never now. I can’t wait anymore.”
My words resonate in my mind, and clearly Reeve’s too if I’m to take his lyrics to heart.
“Do you finally get it?” Stana’s voice invades my mind as the crowd cheers and the guys exit the stage.
I see Reeve go to the bar, while Ali and Owen walk toward the rest of us. “I need a drink,” I tell no one in particular as I lift my arse off the wooden barstool. I much prefer the velvet booths, but there isn’t one close enough to the stage to ensure a good view, so a rounded table has to work.
I push my way through the mess of people, all hailing from different parts of London. Some are regulars, people I recognize instantly despite not actually knowing them. Others are newcomers, probably here from word of mouth about the band’s talent.
After finally getting to the far-left end of the bar, I spot Reeve all the way at the other end. His gaze is stuck onto mine like a leech, not wavering. Not wanting to bother Stella, I reach around the bar and grab a beer, even though it isn’t my drink of choice.
Reeve cocks an eyebrow at me, and I shrug. It’s a contest who will look away first, but it won’t be me. A buxom redhead walks up to him and rubs herself on his side. The sneer that comes out of me is unstoppable, my mouth itching to tell her to back the fuck up. But then I remember, he isn’t mine anymore.
But is that even true?
I know I will always be Reeve’s despite what our futures hold. He just has that portion of my heart, and there is no denying it.
The redhead is attempting to maul him, yet he shakes his head at her. My mind flashes back to that night in Edinburgh. Except that insecure pain and fear is no longer there, and instead, all I feel is a primal need to claim him, show everyone he is mine, a fact I now know he wouldn’t dispute, but reciprocate.
But I know I’ve had a few drinks—far less than enough to make me drunk, but enough to make me bold. Perhaps a little too bold tonight. So, despite wanting to walk over to him, shove the girl he has given zero attention to, and fuse his mouth to my own, I don’t.
Instead, I chug the rest of my pint, push back through the crowd to get my things, and make a quick exit, knowing I have a lot to think about and process tonight. As I reach the stairs, I can’t help but look over my shoulder. To no surprise of my own, Reeve is staring right at me, and our gazes lock onto one another. I begin to turn away, but not before I catch the wink he sends in my direction. Smug bastard.
Upon waking up the next morning, I take my time getting ready, paying extra attention to my makeup and outfit. I’ve got nowhere to be; it’s just one of those mornings where I feel as if I need an extra coat of armor.
Lottie arrives at my house around ten, a dozen pastries in hand. Stana and Ali have escaped town for the next two nights, with Ali having surprised her. He claimed it was to celebrate her one-year anniversary of moving to London, but that was last month. If you ask me, it was more of an excuse for them to be alone. They’re loved up.
“I swear to God, Emilia, this baby is going to be the end of me!” Lottie exclaims, throwing herself down on my couch. She pushes off her boots and kicks her feet up, sinking into the cushion.
“Jesus, Lo, your feet are so red. Did you cram those things into your shoes?” I eye her swollen size-six feet, which clearly no longer want to fit into her boots.
“These are my favorite shoes,” she sulks. “I don’t want to wear anything else.”
I sit down next to her and rub her arm. “It’s okay, Lo. You’re a month away from your due date—you need to stop being so hard on yourself. Things are going to change, your body will change, but it’s going to be beautiful, and you’re going to get the world’s most amazing little girl out of it.”
Squeezing her eyes tight, she throws her head back. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m so emotional all the time, Em. I don’t feel like myself. I’m a pharmacist, for God’s sake. I know the symptoms of pregnancy, along with body changes. I just didn’t think it would be so up and down.”
“I think someone needs a cuppa,” I tell her, to which she quickly nods, eyes still shut.
I stand from the couch, then head into the kitchen to put on the kettle. I’m about to pour the water when my phone begins to buzz, seemingly going mental from my bag. I ignore it, deciding Lottie is more important to focus on. But when Lottie’s phone starts pinging from the other room, my gut tells me there is something up.
As I’m walking into the room with both cups, Lottie answers, and her face goes ashen as soon as she hears whoever is on the other side.
“We’ll be right there,” she says into the phone, then hastily shoves it into her purse and grabs her shoes.
“Lottie? What’s wrong? Where are we going?”
She freezes before turning to me, eyes wide and watery. “Owen and Reeve have been in a car accident. They’re in the hospital. We need to go.”
She hastily puts on her shoes while I continue to stand there shell-shocked.
“Emilia!” Lottie yells, shoes now on and ready to go, while I’m still standing here, teacups in hand and barefoot.
“Em, I need you to snap out of it. I know this is scary, but I need you.”
And with those three words, I’m brought back to reality. Shaking my head, I put the cups on the table, then slip on the closest pair of shoes I can find, not caring that they are Cora’s.
“I’ve called an Uber,” Lottie tells me as I close the front door, attempting to put on my coat while shoving my phone and keys into my bag.
“Okay, let’s go.” I grab her hand, linking our fingers together. “Did they say anything? On the phone, I mean, did they say if Reeve and Owen were okay?”
She shakes her head, having gone silent as we wait on the corner. I squeeze her hand, knowing I need to step up.
“It’s going to be okay, Lottie. I promise they are going to be okay.” They better be.
“We don’t know that, Em. For all we know they’re dead and we have to identify their bodies,” she says with a sob. My stomach drops at the thought, but I refuse to let it overtake me. They have to be okay; I won’t accept anything less.
Reeve and I still have so much to do together. He’s so young, his whole life ahead of him.
Once the black car pulls up, I help Lottie in before going around to slide in next to her. Her leg bounces up and down while her hand rests against her stomach, seemingly providing her some semblance of comfort.
“It’s going to be okay,” I tell her again, or maybe I’m saying it more to myself. I pull out my phone and dial both guys numerous times, both having no answer.
I blink away my own tears, dread filling my insides at the thought of either of the boys I love being harmed. Poor Lottie doesn’t need this stress either, heavily pregnant as she is.
“I’m scared, Em,” she whispers next to me, her eyes glassy. I wrap my arm around her, pulling her as close as the seat belt will allow.
“I know you’re scared, Lo. I’m scared too, but we can’t think like that. I’m sure they’re perfectly fine and this is all a huge misunderstanding.”
We’re silent for the rest of the ride, neither of us keen to spill potentially false truths to comfort one another. We’ve said all we can, expressed our fears. Saying anything more won’t do us any good.
I try calling the boys one more time as we pull up to the hospital, my panic at an all-time high. Thoughts of having to tell Ali that something has happened to his two best friends paralyze me with fear and grief.
I rush over to the first nurse’s desk I see, then ask about the two of them, Lottie now full-on sobbing behind me.
It takes the nurse a few seconds to pull up their information, find their room number, and direct me down the hall. I grab Lottie’s hand, and our footsteps echo down the sterile white hall as we speed-walk to the room on the right.
This is good news. If there is a room for us to visit, that means they have to be okay. I repeat that thought to myself until we finally reach the room, both of us stopping right before the door.
“Let’s just get this over with,” Lottie says through a hiccup, her usually bright blue eyes now rimmed with red.
I nod, placing my hand on the cold metal handle before pushing forward.
The sight before me nearly brings me to my knees. Lottie, on the other hand, rushes forward, letting out a yelp.
Owen and Reeve turn to us, neither appearing to have visible injuries. My wide eyes can’t seem to close as I take them in, looking over every single aspect of their visible skin.
“What the actual fuck!” Lottie screams at them, hitting Owen on his side with her bag. “How the fuck are you alive!” It comes out as if she’s upset they made it through, and I want to laugh, totally poor timing. Luckily, the shock of the entire situation pulls me back.
“Huh?” Owen manages to spit out before Lottie’s bag comes flying at him again. This time he grabs it out of her hands.
I turn to Reeve, my heart smashing against my chest, the endless possibilities of how this could have turned out playing in my head like a movie that won’t stop.
“Why didn’t you call us? Some nurse saying you were in a crash, and you were dead for all we knew! What the fuck!” she yells again, her eyes now dry but burning with anger. I know she isn’t actually mad at them, but the shit was scared out of her. This is how she’s coping.
“Fuck,” Owen lets out, reaching to grab her hand. She’s hesitant at first but then gives way, inching closer to him.
“I left my phone in his car and Reeve’s died. I asked the nurse to call you guys for me while we were being checked out. I really thought she would have mentioned we were okay. Reeve’s car is fucked up, but we don’t have any serious injuries.”
Still speechless, I let my gaze drift back to Reeve. Owen keeps talking, explaining how some prick ran a red light and T-boned them. It wasn’t serious—the car sustained most of the damage—but Owen’s head smacked on the dash and the doctor was worried about a possible concussion. I stand there, listening to him tell the story, yet can’t find it in me to turn away from Reeve, somehow afraid that if I do, he might disappear. Although this turned out to be a false alarm, the fear it placed inside us was very real.
“I promise, we’re okay. I’m fucking sorry for scaring you like that,” I hear Owen tell Lottie. Maybe he’s telling me too, but I don’t know.
My parents died in a car accident. The two most important people in my life were ripped away in a moment without warning or explanation. Today I could have lost these two. If the other car were going a little faster, its driver a little more distracted… My eyes drift shut at the thought, my need to take a calming breath imminent.
“Em,” Reeve whispers, but I shake my head, unable to look at him. I hear the hustle and bustle of feet moving and a door opening and closing, the presence in the room depleting.
“I thought I’d lost you,” I say, my scared voice unfamiliar to my own ears.
“I’m still here,” he replies, his voice cracking, fear lingering in his words.
“You could have died today,” I say aloud for the first time. My eyes pop open and I rush to Reeve, his arms quick to come around me in comfort.
“Oh God, you could have died, and I would never have been able to see you again,” I sob. My body shakes as he holds me, the lingering scent of peppermint giving me small comfort along with the warmth of his body.
“It’s okay, Emilia. I’m here, I’m not going anywhere,” he tells me, my heart clenching at every word.
It’s in this moment I truly realize how deeply rooted my fear of abandonment is when it comes to Reeve. All the times he left, the times I in turn shut him out. My greatest fear of being alone resulted in me pushing away anyone who could quell it. No serious friends of my own until Stana, no boyfriends I kept longer than a month because I always fancied Reeve yet knew it would never happen. I think I knew subconsciously that if I never put myself out there enough, I’d never have to feel that deep-seated sense of devastation and loss that I felt when I lost my parents. But look how it all turned out. I nearly lost him anyway, and the fear of not having told him how I really felt made it all so much worse.
“I love you,” I say so quickly that the words practically sprint out of my mouth.
Reeve peers down at me quizzically. “You do?” he asks, almost as if my acting the past few weeks had fooled him.
I nod hastily. “I really do,” I admit.
A slow, careful smile blooms across his lips. “I love you too, Em. I think I always have.”
I laugh, and it’s an awkward mix of relief and happiness. Without an ounce of hesitation, I smash my lips to his own. It’s frantic, desperate, and full of love. Something both of us have clearly kept inside ourselves for so long.
“Does this mean we can have another shot? I promise not to fuck this one up.”
I nod, pulling away slightly so I can see him, my arms still looped around his neck.
“I want to do this right this time around, Em.”
“Reeve—”
“It’s important you hear what I have to say, Em. If the past few months have taught me anything, it’s that a life without you isn’t a life I want. You said I was a teenage fantasy, like somehow you weren’t worthy enough to think in some far-off land I could possibly love you. But it’s the other way around, Emilia. I want you to understand, need you to understand, you’re my wildest dreams. In the most epic, drawn-out love story, I couldn’t even dream you up. Yet how lucky are we that it’s not a far-off idea, us loving one another? We’re fortunate enough to experience it in this lifetime. What’s so wrong with a fantasy coming true? If it’s going to happen for anyone, it’s going to be you. You’re young, vibrant, and full of life. You’re not covered in this layer of cynicism that everyone else seems to be tainted by, despite the fact that you more than anyone should be.
“None of it fazes you. You see the good in people and don’t waste your time on those who would possibly tarnish that. It’s not something to be looked down upon, Em. It’s something for us to be envious of. You want the storybook ending and that’s okay. It’s okay to want a Mr. Darcy or a Hugh Grant to chase after you in the pouring rain. It doesn’t make you naïve—it makes you human and truthful that you can freely admit it, and all of those things make me love you even more.”
I’m crying now, unable to keep my emotions at bay.
“I didn’t think you paid any attention to those movies I made you watch.”
He grins that special one that’s reserved only for me. Because even our closest of friends don’t get to see this side of him.
“How could I ignore something you love so much?”
“You’re ridiculous,” I tease, but I move closer to him. We stand, holding one another for a few moments, the scents of disinfectant and plastic filling the air.
“I’m serious, Emilia. Do you remember when you were a teenager and that dickhead Banks kid broke your heart?”
I nod, familiar with my first heartbreak but unsure why Reeve would bring it up at a time like this.
“I wanted to kill him, Em. He had been given the privilege to know you and spend time with you, and he ruined it. I just remember being so angry and it scared the hell out of me. You were a gift, Emilia, you still are, and it’s a privilege to be around you, not a right. I felt this overwhelming need to protect you from the big bad world, and in my own way, that meant protecting you from me. But I see now how wrong I was. We’re the best versions of ourselves when we’re together, so I’m not taking any chance of me ruining this. I want to start from the beginning, do all the things we missed when we were a secret. I want you to know how seriously I’m taking this.”
I look at him, my stare curious. “Do you mean like going on dates and waiting to kiss you until the ‘good night’?”
He nods. “Well, clearly we’ve fucked up on the kissing,” he says, “but on everything else, yes. I want to be your boyfriend, and I want it to be public knowledge.”
I grin up at him. “Can cutout Edward come on our dates?” I tease, realizing I never actually mentioned that I got it.
He actually has the nerve to look embarrassed, lightly chuckling. “What can I say, I was a desperate man.”
I scrunch up my face, smiling. “I’m glad you didn’t give up on us, Reeve.”
“You have no idea how happy I am that I kept pushing.”
Still grinning like an idiot, I pull him back into me, thankful that after all this time, we finally have hope for a future, together.
“I just can’t believe you didn’t call us!” Ali says, bringing over a round of drinks to the table. After I finally did ring him, he insisted that he and Stana come home, but we persuaded them not to. Despite our initial worries, the guys were both perfectly fine. Owen just had a slight bruise, no concussion.
“We did call you,” I say. “Just after we were sure everything was okay. There was no need to worry unnecessarily.”
Stana places her hand over Ali’s. “She’s right. I can tell you from experience, there is nothing worse than not knowing and being far away.”
I know from the look on her face that she is referencing last year when her friend got hit by a car while on the phone to Stana. To say it was traumatic was an understatement.
“I know you’re right,” he replies, tucking her into his side. “I just worry.”
“We’re fine, mate!” Owen calls out before chugging the rest of his pint. Lottie looks at him, something lingering behind her gaze. I know they claim there is zero romance there, but her reaction mirrored mine when we thought they were hurt, and my response to Reeve stemmed from the fact I’m in love with him.
Reeve places his hand on top of mine, pulling me out of my thoughts. I tuck them away, knowing I won’t be able to help but overanalyze them later.
