The Mixtape Page 26
“Can I help you, ma’am? Are you lost?”
“Well, I’m not in Kansas anymore, that’s for sure,” Emery muttered, looking toward the massive homes behind the gates. She then nodded to the back of the car. “I’m dropping off one of your prized possessions.”
Steven looked in the back seat at me and still didn’t smile back. He nodded once. “Hello, Mr. Smith.”
“Hey, Steven.”
“You created quite the buzz around these parts today.”
I smirked, tossing my hands up in the air. “You’re welcome for the entertainment.”
“Keeps me on my toes,” he said.
Steven walked away, and not long after, the gates began to open. As Emery drove, her mouth hung open, and I swore flies were seconds away from shooting straight into her throat.
“So, there’s really people out here living like that?” she asked, stunned.
“Yeah.” I nodded, looking around at the multimillion-dollar homes. Demi Lovato was rumored to have bought a property a few spots down from me. Alex would’ve loved that; she was his celebrity crush. “This is what we are wasting our fortunes on.”
“Holy crap,” she breathed out as we went up a hill and passed two people on a walk. “Was that a Kardashian? Holy crap, that’s a Kardashian!” she whisper-shouted with her windows still down.
“A Jenner,” I corrected.
“Potato-patahto,” she sighed, seemingly a bit starstruck. I wouldn’t have taken Emery as a Kardashian fan, but I guess people had a way of surprising you sometimes.
“I would give my left boob to have Kylie’s lipstick from her makeup line.”
“I think priorities need to be checked when giving away body parts for makeup.”
“You just don’t understand how good the makeup is.”
As we approached my house, she pulled up the driveway, and I saw two people sitting on my front porch, and I knew I was in for a handful after my night’s event.
“Is that your PR team or something? To do damage control after last night?”
“Worse. My parents.”
She put the car in park, and I hopped out and walked over to her driver’s door and leaned forward on the window frame. “Thank you for helping me out.”
“No worries, really.” She combed her thick, beautiful hair behind her ear and whispered, “Oddly enough, this was kind of a dream come true for me.” I studied her as she bit into her bottom lip and nervously nuzzled against the skin. “Can I ask you something?”
I nodded.
“If it’s too personal, you don’t have to reply.”
I nodded again.
She leaned toward me, growing closer as she placed her hands right beside mine on the window frame. “Are you okay? Like, overall. Are you okay?”
Her question was so gentle and packed with care. That’s what it felt like that morning, ever since I’d crossed paths with Emery. She felt like a weighted blanket of protection that was keeping me from crumbling. In her brown eyes I saw the concern for me that she held.
Why would she care about me?
I was no one of real importance. Then again, perhaps she only cared about the Oliver Smith who was a performer, not the Oliver Smith I truly had been. If she knew my truth, she probably wouldn’t have cared as much.
I knew what I wanted to tell her. I wanted to tell her what I’d been telling the rest of the world. I wanted to lie. I wanted to say I was fine and that everything was okay, but for some odd reason, my lips parted, my voice cracked, and I said, “No.”
No.
That felt good to say.
No, I wasn’t okay. No, I wasn’t going to be okay. No, nothing was getting better.
No.
She smiled a smile that looked as if it were dripped in tears. I never knew smiles could feel so sad. Oddly enough, the sadness in her grin made me feel more at peace with my own despair.
Her hand moved on top of mine, and she lightly squeezed. Her touch was warm and soft, like I’d imagined it to be.
“I’m so sorry, Oliver. I’m going to pray for you to find better days. You deserve better days.”
Was she even real? Or was she just a figment of my imagination that came to tell me the words I so very much needed to hear? I wanted to tell her the truth about prayers, about how they never came true. Before Alex was pronounced dead, I prayed for him to come back, but it never happened. I prayed for healing, and nothing got better. I prayed for the universe to take me instead, yet it’d left me behind to live.
I wasn’t living anymore, though. I was a dead man walking, quietly wishing that the sun would fade forever, and I wouldn’t have to hurt anymore.
I don’t want to be here.
When Emery pulled her hand away from mine, the warmth she’d given me faded away too. Before I could reply to her, my parents were rushing toward me.