Chapter 19: In the Dark

Kelly

"What's wrong?" he said, wiping my tears with his thumbs, which only made me cry harder. "Why are you crying? Did Dan—?"

"No!" I sputtered. Did he have to bring Dan up now?! "I just know why we're here and I need you to just get it over with because—"

"Tommy told you?"

Even through my tears, I could give him The Look.

When Crash and I first got together things were awkward for about a week before the three of us sat down and made some rules: Tommy was Crash's best friend, and mine too, really. He wanted to help keep me safe (which, in his mind, meant keeping Crash honest, apparently) and Crash sane (because while Crash was a lot of things, "laid back" and "down to earth" weren't among them).

He knew he'd be stuck in the middle whenever we fought—and we both weren't sure where to place our loyalties.

So we made some promises.

Tommy would keep both our secrets. Never tell either of us something the other said without permission. And we'd never ask him to choose.

"No. Tommy didn't tell me anything. He didn't have to. I've hardly seen you—and even when I do, you barely touch me. You've done nothing but work all summer. But you haven't missed me! I'm just the pathetic high school girlfriend who'll—"

"Kel, how can you think I haven't missed you?"

"Because you don't call me. Or . . . or do anything with me."

Crash never pushed hard for sex. He always asked, then backed off as soon as I said no. But in the last few weeks he'd kissed me maybe three times. And he hadn't made even a passing comment about wanting me or flirted with me about taking off my clothes for him.

The jokes and teasing had always made me a little uncomfortable. Until they were gone, and I realized how much they'd helped me feel sure that he wanted me. That I wasn't off his radar.

Like now.

Crash clawed a hand through his newly-cut hair—Amber told him he needed to look more "rocker" and less "starving artist." I liked it. Except for the part where it made him even more handsome.

"So, wait, you're mad because I haven't kissed you enough?"

"No." I pushed him away. He swayed back but didn't step out of my space. Jerk. "I'm sad because you're going to break up with me and I don't want to break up with you!" I hid my face.

Did he really think I hadn't guessed?

Man, I must be pathetic.

The radio ads that had been babbling in the background stopped. There was dead air for a second before the low thud of a bass drum, pulsing over a syncopated tap on the snare, set the rhythm for the rest of the conversation.

The announcer spoke over the beat, but I couldn't hear the words. I was poised. Too busy waiting to hear how Crash would take the opening I'd given him. Would he just say, "Yeah. Okay. Sorry about that"—or would he fumble all over himself trying to explain all the reasons why he didn't want to be with me anymore.

I couldn't decide which would be worse.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this." His face was downcast and I hated that he could make me feel sorry for him.

"Well, I'm sorry if I made breaking up with me too hard on you," I muttered.

Crash's brows drew in, like he'd say something. But then he just sighed and stepped past me, the bed of the truck rolling as he kneeled on his chair and reached through the cab of the truck to turn up the radio. ". . . amazing song, trust me you're going to hear this one a lot—"

"Are you kidding me right now?" I gaped at him. Was he so full of himself he wasn't even going to talk about it?

Crash got back to his feet, shook his head, the announcer's voice was loud enough I had to raise mine to be heard over him. Pain threatened to crack my ribs. When had he become so callous? I'd heard that fame did that to people, but seriously?

"Just because you'll be famous doesn't mean you get to treat me like—"

Then the announcer's voice broke in again and Crash raised a hand toward me.

"—from a new band called Crash Happy--they're locals, guys so make sure to get out there and support them! This is the next number one hit you'll be singing: In the Dark!"

I gasped.

Crash bobbed his head in time, finger and thumb drumming on his thigh. A smile crept onto his face. "I'm not breaking up with you, Kelly—I can't believe you'd even think--but we'll talk about why you'd think that later. For now, just listen. Please?"

The bass drum pulsed. In my head, Tommy sat at the drums, his hair in his face, his whole body moving to make that beat. An electric guitar sang eerily beside it--Crash, whaling. Then Crash's voice, gravelly at his deepest range, cut the air.

Sitting here, it's three am,

Singing 'til I'm sick

'Bout all the things I had to deal

Before your light walked in

Can you hear me, all that hurt?

Can you hear the way I'm feeling?

Promise me you'll never close

The door you opened

In the dark.

Sitting here while you sleep there,

Aching for your arms.

I'll crack myself open wide,

And let your light walk in.

All the way in.

The line echoed while everything else trailed off—his voice, the guitar, even the bass whispered almost to a stop. My heart sank as it faded off and I wondered--

Then, on a four-count of silence marked only by the sticks, Tommy's drums and a guitar exploded. Crash's voice, that impossibly soaring, gravel voice I adore, sang me a love song.

In the dark, you're calling me

In my dreams, I'm falling

If you leave it up to me

We'll never be apart.

In the dark.

I want you with me in the dark.

Against my will the tears started. But they were happy. I couldn't believe it. I launched myself at Crash and the truck rolled again. But laughing, he steadied me, wrapped me up, one arm between my shoulder blades, his hand cupping my neck, the other around my waist to pull me in tight. I clung to him as he murmured the song in my ear.

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