Josh: No pressure, though.

PART III

23

—Joshua—

“Twenty-one,” Ry says, settling next to me on the plane to Dallas.

“What’s twenty-one?”

“That’s the number of days it takes to create a habit.”

I shake my head and eye him sideways. Ry’s the newest member of the team, plucked by Chris from a skate park somewhere in Cali. He’s only eighteen and had never left the state until Chris knocked on his door, wooed his mother, and he’s been with us ever since. That was three months ago. Now, he’s attached himself to me, calling me his big bro. Not that I mind. He’s more on my level than the other two guys. Maybe because he’s young and new and the fame and rewards of the skate world haven’t ruined him yet.

We spend most nights on the road skating in random places, while the others hit up bars and hit on girls.

“What habit?” I ask.

He points to the phone in my hand opened up to a picture of Becca pouting. She’d sent it to me New Year’s Eve with the text, “I miss you.” I hadn’t known what to make of it, or why she’d sent it, but I didn’t care. I missed her, too, and I wished she was with me, or I with her, it didn’t matter, and I told her that. We spent way too long, stayed up way too late, texting back and forth with promises to keep in touch. It was the only promise we made. Nothing about who we were to each other, or what we’d be the next time we were together. She’s in my life and obviously thinking about me, and for the past two months that’s been enough.

Ry says, pulling me from my thoughts, “If you don’t talk to her or look at her for twenty-one days, she should be out of your system.”

“Who says I want her out of my system?” I ask incredulously.

“Your face.” He laughs once. “Who is she, anyway?”

“Becca!” Reece shouts, taking a seat opposite us. “One day, young Ry, you’ll know all about Becca.”

“She your girl?” Ry asks.

Reece answers before I can. “She’ll always be his girl. Even if she has no idea she is.”

* * *

Becca: How’s Dallas?

Josh: Not as good as Oregon will be. You’re still coming right?

The minutes feel like hours while I wait for her response.

Becca: I actually wanted to talk to you about that. I’m going to try my hardest to make it, but there’s so much going on at the moment, I don’t know if I can get away.

Josh: But it’s spring break!

Becca: I know, but I have this huge paper due right after and all the volunteers at Say Something leave for break but the kids don’t so…

Josh: Crushing my heart, Becs. But I understand.

I don’t. Not really. I should, but I don’t.

Becca: Are you mad?

Josh: No.

Becca: You’re mad.

Josh: I’m not mad.

I’m a little mad.

Becca: You are.

Josh: I’m not really in the mood to start an argument I’m not gonna win.

Becca: Okay.

* * *

It’s not that I want Becca out of my system. I just don’t want her to infiltrate it. Which she has, and everyone’s noticed. Even Ry. “Twenty-one days,” he keeps telling me. So I try his stupid theory. Twenty-one days of no Becca.

I make it three.

The thing about Becca is simple. She’s like walking into a warm house when you’ve been out in the cold. You don’t realize how good it feels until you’re surrounded by it. And when you head back out you know, in the back of your mind, that the warmth is still there and you crave it and miss it and want nothing more that to be enveloped by it. And yeah, I’m sure if you spend twenty-one long-ass empty days in the cold, your body, your mind, grows accustomed to it just like I’d been in the year Becca and I spent apart. But then she showed up just outside the Globe tour bus and I was reminded of the warmth, the comfort, and the longing kicked in and I wanted it. No. I needed it. Needed her. And so I stand on the balcony of some random hotel in Florida and take a picture of the night sky, moon out, stars surrounding it. I send it to her, along with the words:

Josh: You know that really cheesy thing people do when they’re apart? They tell the other person to look at the stars and know that wherever they are, they’re looking at the same ones?

Becca: Yeah? You want me to do that?

Josh: No. I want you to look at the stars and realize that there’s a whole universe out there, and this world you and I live in is so tiny in comparison. But there’s nothing—not a damn thing in the entire universe you could possibly ever say or do that would make me mad at you, Becs. I’m sorry if I made you think that.

An eternity passes before I get a reply.

Becca: Why have you been AWOL?

Josh: Because I’ve been in denial.

Becca: About?

Josh: About my feelings for you.

She replies with a picture of the night sky from her view.

Becca: There could be an entire universe out there, and you’re right, we may be small in comparison. But what if you and Tommy make up the majority of my world? Does it really matter what else is out there?

* * *

Josh: Any update on tomorrow?

Becca: I’m really going to try. I’m going to pull an all-nighter and make some calls to see if there’s anyone who can cover my shifts but it’s not looking good. I’m so sorry, Josh.

Josh: Just let me know either way, okay?

Becca: I promise.

* * *

I smile, nod, and make small talk with the fans, signing whatever they need while sitting at a table in the back of a new Check and Deck store in downtown Portland. At least that’s where I am physically. Mentally, though? I’m nowhere.

Becca’s plane should’ve taken off ten minutes ago with her hopefully on it. I haven’t heard from her since we texted last night and I didn’t want to push her. So instead, I’m sitting here going out of my mind waiting for the news.

I pick up my phone, the ringer set to loud so I don’t miss anything and hope for some kind of miracle.

“Still nothing?” Nico, my teammate, asks. He’s been with me the longest. Chris found him on YouTube skating in some abandoned warehouse in Puerto Rico. He set Nico and his family up in some mansion in California, the same area as Reece and Ry. So while they’re all out there, I’m in North Carolina, and Becca’s in St. Louis. Makes total sense, right?

As if right on cue, my phone alerts me to a message and I almost jump to read it.

Becca: I’m so sorry.

—Becca—

Seriously, I could watch Josh Warden forever. Even from outside the store, peeking through the window in between the gaps of the displays, it’s enough to satisfy my longing. He signs whatever is placed in front of him and smiles at his fans and female admirers. Okay, that last one I’m not too thrilled about, but whatever. It’s still Josh and I’m still close enough that I could smell him. Not that I am. That would be weird. The point is I’m here… he just doesn’t know it yet.

The air conditioning pricks my skin when I step inside the store and my luggage gets caught in the doorway. I struggle aimlessly, my cheeks warming as I make a fool of myself. “I got it,” someone says, holding the door open long enough for me to pull through my bag. I smile, thankful, only to realize it’s Chris. “You finally made it,” he says, pointing to someone who takes my suitcase and disappears. Chris leans in closer. “Does he know you’re here?”