"I'll get back to you on that."

How can he stand not seeing me? We're so close. "I'll come to your place. I've got a car-"

"Not a good idea."

"You can come here then." If I work all night I can have my room clean. Him in my room? Thinking that makes me crazy. "I'm going to be a wreck until I see you again."

"I'll try to borrow some wheels."

"Call me."

He misses his beat.

"Derek?"

"Are you sure, Beth?" He coughs. His voice takes on the twist of torture it held when he broke down on our bench back in Switzerland. "I can't guarantee getting tangled up with me won't be rough on your heart."

Why, Derek? How will you hurt me? When will you tell me everything? I cover my questions with a shaky laugh. "You do want to dump me. c.r.a.p."

"Just think about it. That other guy-"

Doesn't he remember those words he sang to me in Lausanne? That promise?

The way you kiss, the way you sing,

The way you tell me everything.

Will you take my heart?

I'm offering it to you. . . .

I do. I sing my reply, It's gotta be, it's gotta be about you.

chapter 18.

PILLOW TALK.

I spend the rest of the day trying to get my cell to ring. I call back twice. Leave a message once. Send two texts.

I even call Sarah. "Hey. They're back. Have you heard from Blake?"

"Blake's a jerk. Why would I want to hear from him?"

"Do you have his cell?"

She gives it to me. Memorized. Jerk, huh?

I enter it in my cell's phone book, dial, but hang up before it rings. Calling Blake is over-the-top desperate. I write Derek an email just in case his cell phone got flushed down the toilet or something tragic like that. I finally put on the Amabile guys' new CD, fall asleep listening to Derek sing, clutching my cell phone to my heart.

It goes off at 2:00 a.m. I startle awake-not sure what's going on. I sit up confused. The phone is jumping around in my sheets.

Derek. Yes. Derek.

"Hey."

"You awake?"

"Sure."

"I fell asleep on the drive from Toronto. I don't even remember walking into the house."

What happened to, Can't sleep, can't dream without you?

"Sorry I didn't call back." His voice sounds thick and scratchy. Exhausted.

At least he's sorry. "That cold of yours is back. You should get some more rest."

"I'm wide awake now. Don't you want to talk?"

I'm wide awake, too. "How about we do more than talk? I'll get in my car, and you guide me to your place. Just don't hang up." I get out of bed and search through the pile of clothes on my floor with my foot. Designer jeans, where are you? I get silly and start singing him the chorus of our duet.

And now-our love is so true,

I won't take a step without you.

Thank G.o.d, you came. If you love me, please don't ever let me go.

He doesn't come in on his cue. "It's almost an hour drive. You can't do that at 2:00 a.m."

With him as the prize, I could do anything. "Meet me halfway then." I sing, I' ll walk with you until the dawn.

He sings back, I don't have my own car.

"That was so not romantic. Swipe your parents' car." I unearth the jeans. They are clean-enough. "You'll be back before they know it."

"My dad works the night shift. I'd get busted."

"Don't be such a baby." I hold the phone with my shoulder and squirm into my skinny jeans. "You're almost eighteen-right? What can they do?"

"Actually," he pauses, "I'm nineteen."

"Really?" I sit back down on my bed. "You don't look that old."

"Too old for you?"

"No." I won't be eighteen until next spring, but that hardly matters. "I didn't picture you starting college this fall. Are you leaving?" That's not really a fairy-tale vision for two, is it?

"I'm not going."

"What?" I a.s.sumed Derek was an AP student, straight-A guy like . . . Scott.

"University isn't going to work out for me."

"But it has to-" I get up and paw through my laundry, looking for something to wear on top that isn't an ugmo sweatshirt.

"I'm looking forward to working full-time on my music. And I've got some other issues to work out."

I stop hunting. "Like what?"

"Nothing important." There he goes again. Evading me. He can even do it with jet lag.

"But eventually-if you ever want to support a family-you'll need to get a degree and a job."

"So now you're my guidance counselor?"

"Sure." I pull a deep-blue clingy V-neck I bought with Meadow out of the pile. Price tags still on. Yes. "Get a music degree. Study composition."

"Dissect it?" He sounds miffed. "Pick apart the music that flows out of me and try to put it back together? No thank you."

"Don't be such a prima donna. I bet even a genius like you could learn a lot." I find some toenail clippers in the clutter near my bathroom sink and snip the tag off the shirt. "What about a voice major or directing? I can see you doing that."

"I'm not enjoying this conversation."

"Because you know I'm right."

"I never said I didn't want to go." He clears his throat. "I can't. Not this year."

I hang the top on a hook so I can slip it on as soon as he hangs up. "Don't they give scholarships and student loans out in Canada?"

"It's not the money."

Is it the drugs? That's what I want to ask him. Are you not going to college because of your drug habit? I don't want those suspicions in my brain. I sing in my s.e.xiest voice, Your breath that drifts across my face. A fire ignites when- He breaks in. "Can you be serious for a minute?"

I was being serious. I stop singing. "Sure."

"I need to tell you something you're not going to like." Shoot. It's her. She wants him back, and he's going to dump me over the phone.

"You already did that. Tell me something I'll like instead-how about, you're walking out the door, getting in your mom's car, backing it up, and driving out of town to meet me in the middle of the highway?" I examine myself in the mirror over the sink. Five minutes for makeup. Trap my frizzed out hair in a ponytail and iron the bangs. Ten minutes and I can be on the road. It'll be dark. I don't have the time or patience for the work true beauty takes tonight. I sing, Your lips on mine- "Gosh, Beth. You've got a one-track mind."

I give up the song. "I need to touch you. I'm not sure you're real."

"You're talking to me on the phone. That isn't real?"

"Not real enough for me. Don't you want to be with me again-like in Lausanne?" That sounds whiny. Am I turning him off? I need Boyfriend 101. Where is Sarah when I need her? I'm not dumb enough to ask Meadow for help. She'd sabotage me for sure.

"I went back and took pictures of our bench. I'll email them to you."

"I'll come see them. I guess I can wait until tomorrow." Then I could wash these jeans, shower, straighten my hair, put on full makeup-dazzle him. "Tell me how to get to your house, and I'll be there. Is 7:00 a.m. too early?" I wish Meadow had set me up with s.e.xy perfume. It's not like I can swipe some from my mom-she's an accountant.

"I can't." He starts to cough again. When he stops he says, "That's what I've been trying to tell you."

I'm silent. Afraid. It is her. c.r.a.p. I knew it.

"My mum rented us a cottage up in lake country. She's always wanted to do it, but we never had the cash, or Dad couldn't get off, or I was too . . ." Wasted? I don't want to hear this. Stop, Derek. Just stop. Sing to me instead. You know the song. You picked it.

He doesn't. "We couldn't ever go before. She met this woman who gave us a great deal on her cottage. She can't use it this year. Doesn't normally rent it. We've got it for the rest of the summer."

I blurt, "Can I come, too? What happened to, I won't take a step without you? I'll sleep on the couch." I leave the bathroom, pace around my room.

"It's tiny-one bedroom. I'll be sleeping on the couch."

"We could share. We're both pretty skinny."