Read Online Finding Abbey Road by Kevin Emerson - Free Book Online

is with offices in other time zones. So they’re both almost always home by the time I get home.
    I just sit there in the car. The exhaustion from this day—or this week, maybe even this whole year—is really starting to set in. As is my doubt about whether my parents will listen to me. The idea of a grounded girl asking for a trip to London is about as insane as they come. But then again this whole situation is insane. Maybe it’ll be like how two negatives equal a positive.
    You know things are bad when you are looking to math for moral support.
    â€œSo . . . ,” says Caleb. “Should I come in? Or . . . not.”
    â€œI think not,” I say, not sure at all. “I have to convince them that this is what’s right for me. If you’re there they might dismiss it as me being irrational because I’m in love.”
    â€œIsn’t that part of it?” I turn and see that Caleb is smiling, the most free he’s seemed all day. His face lights up and it seems extra bright considering the clouds he’s been under, and I have one of those crystalline moments where the rest of the world sort of shatters and falls away because you love this person, and he loves you back, and what elsereally matters and DAMN this boy is hot. How do I even go five minutes without jumping him?
    â€œDefinitely,” I say, rubbing my hand on his arm, letting my fingers mingle with his.
    But Carlson Squared don’t do irrational. I’m not sure when the last time was that they listened to their hearts.
    Still, I keep sitting there.
    My phone buzzes. When I check it, my gut tightens.
    Jason: It’s decision day. . . . And I haven’t heard a peep.
    I show Caleb, then put my phone on Do Not Disturb.
    â€œWe should probably just tell him no,” says Caleb.
    â€œProbably,” I agree, but don’t reply to the text.
    â€œYou sure you don’t want me to come in?”
    I lean over and kiss him, though my mouth is dry. My gut is flooded with adrenaline. “Nah. I’ll text you with the verdict and we’ll take it from there.”
    â€œGood luck,” says Caleb. He doesn’t mean to, but he sounds like he thinks I’m a goner.
    So do I . . . but no. This has to work. Despite how much I want to run in the opposite direction, I can’t keep avoiding them. I have to go in there and make them see.
    I get out of the car. Caleb drives off. Step by step, I make my way into the house. I try to tell myself that this is no big deal. Come on, Summer. You got this. But I know it’s a huge deal. I want to believe that what I’m about to ask for makes perfect sense, that I just have to make them see that. Except I worry that maybe it makes no sense.
    My heart is racing. All this feels like some kind of reckoning.
    Because to make them believe in what I’m asking for, I have to reveal a side of me that I’ve been hiding.
    I have to be the real me.
    First, though, I’ll hit them with pride.
    I take a deep breath and hold it as I walk through the door. “Guys, check it out,” I say when I enter the kitchen. Dad is reading in the living room, sitting in his favorite stiff chair by the window. Mom is coming downstairs, probably because she saw me get home. Dad still in his work khakis and tie. Mom in a knee-length skirt and a cardigan sweater. All business.
    Dad comes over and peers at my phone, adjusting his glasses. He looks sleepy; it’s that time of day when he is fighting a nap the whole time. Naps are inefficient, after all.
    â€œThis is from Andre,” he confirms, still reading. Then he straightens and looks at me with something like a smile, relieved, though still a little begrudging, given last weekend’s events. I expect him to say something approving, but first he points Mom to the phone. “Take a look.” As she’s reading he looks at me. “What do you think?”
    I don’t know how to take the question.