Starstruck (Heartstrings Duet #1)

49. aim so high

[ 49 ]

AIM SO HIGH

LENNON

“ALWAYS LOVE” BY NADA SURF

Baxter

I’m sorry.

I miss you.

I never meant to make you hate me.

I’ve read the texts on the screen in front of me no fewer than ten times since I woke up to them on my phone three hours ago. He’s sent a variation of I’m sorry every day over the past week and a half since I stormed out of his house and left my heart inside with him, but the I miss you and I never meant to make you hate me are a new development.

I haven’t replied to any of them. I hate myself so much for letting him get under my skin and giving him the power to hurt me. And I hate him even more for using it, even though I know it wasn’t on purpose.

Baxter may act tough, but even with what happened, I don’t believe for a second that he had ill intentions. I just think he doesn’t know how to communicate because he’s never had to before. I knew that going in. I knew he would never be able to open up fully, because that’s not who he is. It was silly of me to think I could be the one to change him.

I told myself from day one that I wouldn’t fall for him. I tried to avoid him. I set rules. I did everything in my power to keep my feelings separate, and I fell for him anyway. Which means it’s my own damn fault that I’m heartbroken now, because I knew better.

I can’t even really blame him for not telling me about Logan in the first place, because we vowed to keep emotions out of it from the start.

He kept that promise. It’s not his fault that I couldn’t.

My fingers hover over the screen where his latest text sits as I debate whether or not I should text him back. I’ve been good at keeping my distance this far…but this one has me tempted to reply.

Maybe it’s because for the past week and a half, my mind has been on a constant loop of wanting to talk to him and being so damn angry with him. I’ve been more distracted than ever before, because I simply can’t get over the fact that the man I’m in love with is the closest person to the reason my parents are dead. What are the fucking chances?

Maybe it’s because we’re four days out from the day I’ve spent the past eight months pouring my blood, sweat, and tears into, and I know I’ll have to see him again.

Maybe it’s because, despite how mad I’ve been, I do still love him.

Whatever the reason, I go against everything I’ve told myself and send him a text back.

I hit send just as Isa enters my office.

“How are you holding up?” she asks, pulling my attention from the text thread as she takes the seat opposite me.

She’s been here almost every day the past few weeks to help get everything finalized for the show. Between her, Sadie—who I’ve grown close to—Paige, and Dylan, I’ve hardly had a moment to myself. I still haven’t decided if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

“About as well as you’d expect.” I sigh, clicking the power button on my phone and flipping it face down. “I miss him so damn much, Is. And I hate that I miss him.”

She reaches across the desk, placing her hand over mine. “I know, Lenny.” She smiles sadly at me. “If it’s any consolation, I saw them all a few days ago, and Baxter’s really beating himself up over what happened. Colt told me he hasn’t been sleeping.”

“Good. Neither have I,” I huff, crossing my arms over my chest. “Wait, you talked to Colt?” I narrow my eyes. “I thought you hated Colt.”

After that day we ran into him and Sadie at Underground Espresso, I questioned her about him. She just shrugged nonchalantly, giving me some made-up story about the two of them, told me she can’t stand him, and then asked me politely to drop it. I did, and it hasn’t been brought up since.

Until now.

She pulls her hand back, the slightest hint of redness rushing to her cheeks. Trying to play it cool, she scoffs. “I still hate Colt. He’s just concerned for his friend, just like I am for you.”

“Mhm.” I quirk a brow, not believing her for a second. “Does the hate part make good foreplay?”

Her eyes widen as I stare at her, brows raised. But she avoids the question, opting to change the topic entirely.

“Let’s talk about the concert. How’s the final planning coming along? Things ready for Saturday?”

I lean back in my chair with an eye roll, relenting. It’s obvious something happened—Isa doesn’t hate people for no good reason—but I know her well enough to know she’ll fill me in when she’s ready, so I let it go.

With a nod, I tell her, “Just about. I still feel like something’s missing, but I don’t think anything is. All the vendors are set to arrive by seven on Saturday morning for setup, and I’m heading to the venue on Friday to prepare the dressing room trailers and do a soundcheck—which reminds me, are you still good to help with that? I have Sadie and Harper coming down, too, to make sure transitions are smooth.”

Isa nods. “Yes, of course,” she says with a smile before leaning forward.

I smile back at her. “Thank you. I really don’t know what I would’ve done without you over these past few months, and in case I haven’t already told you, I appreciate you, Is.”

“I wouldn’t have had it any other way. You know I’ve always got your back.” She tosses a wink at me and we laugh. “Are you nervous?” she probes.

I shrug. “Honestly? Not really. Not for the concert, at least.” I pull my bottom lip between my teeth then add, “At this point, the show will go how it goes. Obviously, I want it to go well, but it’s almost out of my hands, and as much as I’ve loved planning, I’m excited for it to be done.”

She nods along. “I get that.”

We chat a bit more about the concert before she heads back down to the studio. She has some finishing touches to put on her album before its release in a few months, and I, for one, am so damn excited to hear it.

I focus my attention back on the last-minute planning I have to do, ensuring that all the vendors and performers know what time to be there for on Saturday.

As I scroll through the schedule one more time, it hits me that in a matter of days, this will all be over.

No more stress or worrying about whether everything will go okay—the day I’ve been working toward for the past eight months will simply come and then it will go.

It’s a bittersweet feeling, really. I’ve poured so much time and energy into making sure the day will be the best it possibly can be, but I’m so excited to see it all finally come to fruition.

All I can do now is hope that whatever happens, I make my parents proud.

This is for you, Mom and Dad. I hope you’re watching.