EMMA

Birds chirp happily outside my window as warm light trickles through my blinds. Snoring softly beside me, Beau is fast asleep. I trail my fingers through the tousled strands of his dark hair, feeling the prickle of the shaved sides of his head against my palm. His face is bare - I made him remove the smudged eyeliner before bed - and so innocent, a small pout forming on his full lips. He's almost childlike when he sleeps.

Once again, I'm filled with worry. Is he doing okay, really?

Moving gently as to not wake him, I reach for my phone. I had a lunch scheduled with Gemma this afternoon, but knowing Gemma, it's always best to confirm the day of.

It's normally me who has to text Gemma to remind her of plans, but today, there's a message waiting for me already, despite the early hour.

Gemma: still on for lunch?

New message.

Gemma: mind if Connor tags along?

Of course I don't, I smile sleepily for my friend - she seems happy with Connor. Happy enough, at least, for the relationship to last longer than a couple of weeks.

Again, I watch Beau sleeping for a moment before I type out my response.

Me: Beau stopped by for a visit. I might bring him, too.

She can't be mad, not after she asked to bring Connor. I hope this afternoon goes better than last night, is all. I sigh deeply as I cuddle under the covers and open up Instagram.

During college, I pretty much abandoned social media entirely. At first it was too hard to always come across images of Beau - a new girl in every photo. By the time I was "over it," it seemed silly for me to re-download the apps. Yet something about Beau being away on tour again lured me into the web, once more.

I don't bother much with my newsfeed, except to like and comment on Val's newest post from her office in LA, and to react to Kim's story from the night before. Then I find Beau's profile - always at the very top of my search history as it's the only account I really care about - and scroll to the picture he posted of me, with the caption "My girl."

Knowing I shouldn't, I tap on the comment section. Some fans comment their adorations of Beau and his new music, others speculate on whether there's anything between him and Rey, despite the post. Of course, there's the ones who hate me - who always have. I scroll past those ones, well aware of the horrible insults his fans can come up with.

I'm about to put my phone down again when I see Beau's username replying to a fan.

The fan's comment reads: "I'm SO happy you're with Emma again!!! We've been waiting!!!"

Underneath it, Beau's reply makes my lips turn upwards.

beaulewis: Me too.

Content for the time being, I slip out of bed and into the shower to get ready for the day. The idea of Beau joining me brings a rush of blood to my cheeks, but I decide to let him sleep, knowing he needs a good rest after sleeping in hotels, probably sharing his own bed with Zeus.

"Remember the day we met?" Beau picks at the cardboard wrap around his coffee cup, a hint of a smile on his lips. "You didn't like me,"

I chuckle, enjoying the atmosphere in the coffee shop today. Some of the patrons I'd grown used to seeing had passed on over the years - like Miss Eleanor, the older woman who always had the hottest gossip to share, or Stevie - who'd simply left town a couple years after I went to school. But no matter who inhabits those bean bars chairs, this place is home.

"You were unlikable," I shrug, tracing the spot on my hand where his coffee had spilled and burned me.

Beau raises a brow challengingly. "But you came out with me anyways."

"I needed the money," I wink. "Who says I'm not still just a gold-digger?"

At that, Beau tips his head back and laughs - a deep, throaty sound that I don't hear nearly enough. While I'm relishing the sound, Nadine saunters to our table, wearing a faded, yellow dress and her trusted white apron.

"Miss Emma," She leans down and drapes an arm around my shoulder, squeezing gently. "I miss you, girl." She plops down in the seat beside me, breaking a bite off of my muffin. "Beau, good to see you again. You look well,"

Nadine appraises Beau closely and I know she's looking for the same signs I always check for. Clear eyes, no dark circles, bright skin, no stench of stale whiskey in the air. Beau adjusts slightly under her gaze but remains neutral. I know how hard it is for him to know everyone else is also aware of his struggles.

"It's been awhile," Beau nods. "Everything all right?"

Nadine makes a hum in the back of her throat. "Everything's the same here,"

We small talk with Nadine until Gemma and Connor arrive. She asks about the tour and about Rey, wondering again -she's already asked me before - how they met.

"Oh, it was funny, actually. I was at some shitty bar," I watch Nadine's lip twitch as he curses - she hates swearing. "And she was performing some cover songs. I had just decided I wanted to do music again, and there she was. The only thing is, she was covering these awful pop songs - not her style at all. So after the show, I told her exactly what I thought."

Nadine raises her brows, "Bold move,"

Beau smirks and shrugs at the same time. "It was advice I would've wanted to hear. Anyways, she agreed it sucked, but she didn't see herself being able to break into rock and roll like she really wanted - everyone always told her she wouldn't be able to."

"Not you?" I know that beneath her polite chit chat, Nadine is hiding her suspicions, prying for more intel on my behalf.

"I'd dealt with something similar in the past, so I decided to help her." Beau leans back in his chair so he's rocking on its back legs - another habit that Nadine despises.

"Just like that, hm? How kind," Nadine stretches as she stands. "I hope she appreciates your help. I've got to get back to work, but you better come again, Miss Emma. It's been too long - the old place misses you." With a little wink, she makes her way back to the counter to assist a group of young girls.

When Gemma finally arrives, surprisingly on time, I can't help but observe as she introduces Connor to Nadine at the counter. As Beau finishes scribbling lyrics onto his napkin, I watch how much easier it is for Connor to connect with Nadine than it is for Beau. I know he's not a people person, but part of me wishes my friends wouldn't be so hard on him. He's not who he was, and I don't blame them for being protective, but he is trying.

I hope they can see that.

Connor and Gemma are so natural together - he orders her meal without even asking what she'd like, and she doesn't seem to mind. She looks amazing in her workout leggings and tank top - attire I've never seen her wear before. "Connor and I are getting up early every morning to run," She explains cheerfully when she joins us.

To run? I'm impressed. I say as much and Gemma only giggles, sneaking a adoring gaze at Connor as he shakes Beau's hand.

As the afternoon passes, things become easier between the four of us. Beau is more comfortable around Gemma since she spent time with us back when we were together, and Connor is too infatuated with Gemma to notice if Beau is a little standoff-ish. Which he is, but only a little bit. I count that as progress.

When Gemma and Connor excuse themselves to go meet Connor's parents, I hide my shock and give them hugs goodbye. Gemma's never met anyone's parents before. I feel a twinge of sadness that Beau will never meet mine and I will likely never meet his, before perking up and being positive for my friend.

"So what do you want to do next?" Beau asks, running a hand over his dark hair. "We can go home where I can fu-" To my relief, a blender whirs at the same time as Beau finishes his thought. His devious smile lets me know his point, though.

"Oh, I don't know - there's plenty of time for that later." I tease, insides already tightening at the idea of Beau and I tangled up between the sheets.

"Want to go for a drive?" He asks then, his face pensive.

I nod my head and hand him my keys, following him from the cafe.

The air is cool this evening so we keep the windows down and turn the radio up. Beau sings along to every song, one hand on the wheel, the other hanging out of the window.

"What's your favorite song?" I ask out loud, realizing I don't know it. I imagine he has one - being so musically inclined.

He looks at me briefly before shrugging his shoulders. "I like lots of songs. What's yours?"

"Emma," I blurt without thinking. When his fingers stop drumming against the wheel, I feel my heartbeat quicken. Beau told me he loved me last night - did he really mean it, or was he caught up in the moment, wrapped up in our throes of passion?

"That's a good song," He mutters, keeping his eyes locked straight ahead. "I heard the singer's a real dick,"

I crack a smile, "Maybe he is, but only if he doesn't mean all the things he said in the song."

Beau turns his head sharply in my direction, brows furrowed over his green eyes. Just as quickly, he faces the road again. "I meant - I mean - every word." There's a beat of silence before he adds, "I meant what I said last night, too."

Warmth explodes in my chest, filling me up with butterflies and sending electricity through my veins.

Beau loves me. It had always been there - the idea that he might, or even that he probably did - but he never said it outright. I was left to interpret his cryptic words, piece together his actions, learn to understand the way he expressed his love. But to actually hear him say it - even if it is infrequently - is another thing entirely.

I smile out the window, letting the setting sun shine over my face. "Good,"

Beau resumes his singing, making fun of me as I try to harmonize along. I'm about to hit another high note when his phone rings, vibrating loudly in the cup holder.

"Want to check that for me?" He mutters, turning the volume down slightly. There's no Caller ID; not recognizing the number, I hand it over and he answers. "Beau Lewis."

I think I see his expression change slightly, become more serious, perhaps even mad, but before I can pinpoint the exact emotion, his face is back to normal.

"I don't know what you're talking about." His voice is cold and hard, so opposite of what it was just seconds ago. "Don't call this number again." He hangs up and shrugs in explanation. "Wrong number,"

I nod slowly, not resuming when Beau starts to hum again. As we slow to a stop light, Beau turns in his seat to face me.

"Thanks for this weekend. I needed it,"

"I did, too." I agree, resting my hand on his forearm.

"When I was younger," Beau begins, not bothering to drive as no one is behind us. "My parents had good and bad days." I hold my breath, waiting for his next words. "On good days, my mom would ask my dad to go for a ride and he would pack us up - Mom, my brother, and me, and just drive around town. No where in particular, just driving." He shrugs, leaning his head back against the seat.

"I was so young," He blinks a couple of times. "Stupid, really. At first, those drives made me feel like things would go back to normal - Mom and Dad would stop fighting, I'd stop ... I don't know, being the way I was, and we'd all be fine." Beau let's out a deep sigh. "When I got older, I saw through it - the good times wouldn't last, the fighting wouldn't stop, and there wasn't any changing I could do to be what they wanted me to be."

My heart breaks, I yearn to reach out and grab him in my arms, to hold him and let him know none of this was his fault. But words fail me as I wait for him to continue - it's not often that he opens up about his family and I don't want to ruin it.

"So every time they'd take us for a drive, I would use that time to plan. Where I'd go, what I'd do. Anything was better than where I was, I just wanted to get out of there." Beau turns his head slowly to me. "I never really thought I'd end up here."

"As a world famous rockstar on a sold out tour?" I ask softly, a sympathetic smile on my face.

"No," He shakes his head. "With you."

Hi loves! Thanks for reading ❤️
more Bemma love this chapter - yay!
also I'm so happy for Gemma and Connor - so cute! What do you think?
FINALLY, slowly but steadily we find more out about Beau's past....
much love xx