Chapter 15

15

ELECTRA

A fter a leisurely soak in the tub with a deep conditioning hair mask, I feel somewhat refreshed, but still not calm. Restless, kind of.

I think I know what it is, but I don't want to admit it. Like, how can I actually miss Trey already?

It doesn't make sense. Before Friday afternoon, I hadn't even met him. Now I feel a deep, frustrating turmoil in my guts, because I don't know exactly when I'm going to see him again.

After throwing on a flowy celestial print dress, I check my phone to see if Mom and Dad are on their way home yet. They said they'd text.

There is indeed a note from Dad saying they'll be home in about an hour. I'm more concerned about the string of messages from Trey, though.

Trey: Warning – your parents are on their way home, and they overheard some things. I'll explain later, but the tldr is they know there was an electrical problem in the studio and that I fixed it. I didn't tell them how you knew about it.

Trey: Oh, and they also know that we're together.

Trey: Well, not exactly. Your mom was worried that I had been hitting on you, so I told her that we clicked and that I'm going to be asking you out to dinner soon. So they don't know if anything's happened, but they know I like you. I hope that's okay.

Trey: Electra, I am so, so sorry. I know that you wanted to keep this a secret, and I've let you down. But it was an accident. They were standing in front of the supermarket when Dad and I were talking, and I didn't see them there.

Trey: Please call me as soon as you can.

Crap. That's a lot to deal with at once.

I check the time of his first text, and realize I spent way too much time in the tub. I barely have time to comb out my hair and put it back in a clip before I hear the front door open.

I have no idea how Mom is going to react. She might lose her shit, or she might be too exhausted from the trip to talk about it. She might sit me down and have a deep chat about boys, or she might forbid me to date until I'm forty.

As always, completely unpredictable. Yet another reason I can't wait to move out.

Mom calls up the stairs. "Electra?"

I stay where I am, knowing that they're going to check their precious studio first. Once they've been in there a couple of minutes, and have realized that everything is fine, I slowly walk downstairs and lean in the open studio door.

"Welcome home. How were your meetings?"

Dad has the wall hanging pulled back, shaking his head. "I would never have known there was a hole in that drywall. That Trey did a good job."

"Yeah. I thought he was really meticulous about everything."

"Hm. It's cleaner than we left it." Mom looks around, searching every corner for hidden monsters.

Dad comes over to give me a hug. "Thank you for taking care of this, sweetheart." He shoots Mom a look. "And I'll be having a word with the woman responsible for splashing water all over the house."

"Also, maybe you can ask Todd to stop bashing his amp into the wall?" I point to the spot. "Trey thinks that's probably what knocked the ground loose."

"I will." He turns to Mom. "See? Everything is fine, hon. Let's get you to bed." Dad flashes me a wink. " Somebody hasn't slept properly in days. Needs her own fine linens, of course."

Mom starts to say something, but Dad steers her by the elbow out the door and up the stairs.

I double check that the kitchen is tidy, then trail up to my room. I should probably text Trey back, but I have no idea what I'd say. My emotions are so high I'm terrified of saying the wrong thing.

Plus, I'm drained. I never dreamed I'd be sharing my music with someone else this weekend. I also didn't know I could pour my heart out like that while singing, and that was tiring too. I feel like I ran a marathon yesterday, and every part of me is still exhausted.

I try to read, but find myself staring at the same paragraph for over half an hour.

Calling Trey would take more energy than I have, and I can't trust that it'll come out right over text. I'm not angry with him, but because I'm so frazzled, it might sound like that.

Crap.

There's a tap at the door. Now is not the time for conversation, but I don't exactly have a choice. "Come in."

Dad pushes open the door, then drops into my easy chair. He doesn't look mad, thank god, but there's something in his expression that tells me he wants to have a serious chat.

"I was just in the studio," he says slowly. "You know your mother never touches the computer, but I wanted to be sure it was okay with all the ruckus."

He probably knows me well enough to see the terror in my eyes, yet I try to act casual. "Oh?"

He smirks. "Sweetheart, tell me: if you found new songs on your work computer, would you be tempted to listen to them?"

My breath begins to stutter as I sit up straighter. "W-what?"

His hand reaches out to squeeze my foot. "Next time you want to cover your tracks…so to speak…restart the computer. When I opened the program, it defaulted to where you saved your songs."

"Shoot."

"I know, I know. I shouldn't have listened." He smiles, his eyes shining with pride. "But I'm really glad I did. They are…stupendous. There aren't even words, honey."

His head cocks to the side. "I mean, I'd give the keyboards a little more headroom in the final mix of the second song, and pump the kick across the board, but…"

I grab my pillow and threaten to smack him with it.

He ducks and chuckles. "Honestly, I haven't heard anything so heartfelt and fresh in a very long time. And no, don't worry, I'm not going to tell your mother."

My breathing stops for several seconds. "Really?"

"Really. It's none of my business, and I shouldn't have listened. But…" He gives me that look we've shared so often over the years. The one that points out that Mom is seriously over the top and we need to tread lightly.

"Thank you." I take a slow breath. "Seriously, thank you. I don't think I could deal with that."

"I understand. But if you decide you are going to share this, please don't let her be the last one to know. Is that fair?"

"Yeah."

"And if it's private for now?—"

"Forever."

Dad holds up his hands. "Okay. Private forever. That's your business." He leans back and smiles. "That Trey…Ray's son… I tell ya, his eyes lit up when he said your name. Anything to share there?"

I force myself not to fidget. "Not yet."

"Well, for the record, he didn't rat you out and say anything about the music. Just told me about the work he did. But I can tell when a guy is smitten." He grins. "He seems like a good man."

"He is."

Dad gets up and pats my shoulder on his way out. "The kind of man who would be good for you, sunshine. You know, somebody with purpose."

"I think so, yeah."

"Again, if things get definite, try to tell your mother before you tell the world. I know she's a handful, but it will be worse if she thinks you're trying to keep something from her."

"I know. I'll keep you both posted when there's news."

"Fair enough. Goodnight, sweetheart." Dad closes the door behind him.

My room is quiet again, but my mind is reeling. I know now that Trey did everything right. I couldn't possibly have asked any more from him.

He handled my parents perfectly…probably without even realizing he was doing it.

Plus, he really did help me find my voice. He made me feel centered enough to relax into a tricky song.

Actually, it was far more than that. It was a love song that didn't have the right intensity yet because I didn't know what love was until I met him. To paraphrase my own song, I don't need to be an electrician to realize it was Trey's current that helped me find my grounding.

Unfortunately, there's no way to tell him all that in a coherent way until I sleep like a log and recover.