Colin lets out a sort of half-chuckle of astonishment. “I don’t even remember saying that. It’s funny you remember that.”
“Who knows why certain memories take hold inside a person’s brain,” I say casually, even though I know exactly why I’ve always remembered Colin’s comment: because anything that boy has ever said or done in my presence that gave me a window into his soul immediately got filed away in a special drawer inside my brain labeled “Colin.”
“This movie really does feel like a childhood dream come true,” Colin admits. “I haven’t said that to anyone else. I don’t want to jinx it or come off like a total dork. Plus, I’ve been lucky enough to have so many dreams come true with my band, and I don’t want to come off like a greedy motherfucker.”
“There’s no quota on dreams,” I say. “As far as I’m concerned, they can be infinite.”
His chest heaves. “I like that.”
“You’re allowed to keep dreaming and reaching for even higher stars, no matter how successful you’ve already been in life,” I say, my eyes locked with his. “In fact, I’d be a bit sad for you, if you didn’t.”
His nostrils flare. He doesn’t look away and neither do I. The air between us at the kitchen table suddenly feels electrified.
“Can I tell you something?” he whispers.
“Of course.”
“I’m deathly afraid I’m going to embarrass myself tomorrow. Fail to meet expectations and get fired on the spot.”
“That’s not going to happen.. Even while running lines, you became Private Sherman before my eyes. I know you discount my high opinion of you, because you think I think you can do no wrong. But I’m telling you, you’re an objectively fantastic actor—a true natural—and everyone tomorrow will think so. Not just me. And so will everyone who eventually sees the movie.”
Colin bites his lower lip, his cheeks flushing gorgeously. “The truth is, Amy . . . with my band, I’ve been feeling like the caboose for a while now. So, getting cast in this movie felt like more than a childhood dream coming true. It’s a chance for me to spread my wings and prove to myself—and the world—that I can actually earn something.”
“What? Colin, that’s crazy. You have to know you’re an insanely talented drummer.”
“Yeah, I know that. I’m super confident about that. But I didn’t have to audition to get into 22 Goats. It just sort of happened to me. And the truth is my beats aren’t all that complicated. Dax and Fish could have found any other talented drummer to play them. There’s no shortage of good drummers in the world. Even excellent ones. Anyone could do what I do.”
“No. You can’t discount the intangibles. The chemistry you three have—the creative input you contribute directly and maybe inspire indirectly the other guys, simply because you’re there. I personally don’t believe 22 Goats would have taken off like it did without all three of you in the group. All three of you were essential. Magic.”
Colin smiles. “I appreciate you saying that. I know Dax and Fish both feel that same way. To be clear, they’ve never once made me feel like I’m riding their coattails or don’t deserve an equal one-third cut of our royalties. Early on, we decided to give writing credit to ‘22 Goats’ for all our songs, no matter who contributed what, and Dax and Fish have never squawked about that over time—even though, as things have progressed, it’s become clear Dax and Fish are the real writers in our group. I contribute my drum parts and an occasional lyric or melody idea. But Dax and Fish do the lion’s share of the writing. Plus, they now co-produce all our albums together. Fish also sings fucking amazing back-ups, in addition to playing bass and synth and guitar. And, of course, Dax sings main vocals and plays guitar, along with writing and producing . . .” He breathes out a long exhale. “We never talk about it, but the gap has definitely widened between their contributions and mine over the years. With each passing year, the more money that rolls in, the more I feel like I’m not completely earning my share. But see, the thing is I’m not capable of doing more for the band. I’m not like Dax and Fish. I don’t wake up with random riffs and melodies in my head demanding to be turned into a song.” Colin runs his hand through his hair. “That’s why this movie is such a big deal to me. Whether I slay this role, or fuck it up, it’s gonna be all on me. That scares the shit out of me, honestly, but being scared is exactly what attracts me to doing it. The band hasn’t scared me in a very long time, if I’m being honest. Like I said, I’m the caboose. I play my drums and have fun and let them take all the risks while I rake in the money, along with them. But with this movie, I’m the one taking all the risks. I’m the one putting my neck out there, with nobody to hide behind, and it feels amazing.”
My heart is crashing in my chest at the openness he’s showing me. The vulnerability. “Thank you for telling me all that,” I say softly. “I know you’re going to slay your performance, Colin.”
“I’ve never told anyone else this stuff. Not even Dax and Fish or Ryan.”
“I totally get it. I had the same mindset about the tour. I wanted to do something scary and outside my comfort zone, even if I crashed and burned. I didn’t want to play it safe anymore. I didn’t want to have any regrets.”
Colin nods and holds my gaze for a long moment, his dark, soulful gaze sending my heartrate through the roof. He grins after a moment. Bites his lower lip. “What’s your dream, Amy O’Brien? Something tells me it’s not becoming a celebrity personal assistant—not that there’s anything wrong with that.”
My breathing turns instantly shallow.
If I were to answer Colin’s question with complete honesty, I’d tell him my dream is and has always been to become a mom one day. To have a family. Yes, I want to work hard at something in the foreseeable future and be able to pay my own way in life. I want to feel proud of myself for being able to do that.
But, still, at the end of the day, the thing I dream of the most, which is what he’s asked me about, is having a family of my own with someone I love—someone who wholeheartedly loves me back. I know full well society says that’s an antiquated, weird dream for a twenty-three-year-old woman. Which means it’s not something that should be admitted out loud, especially not to the man you’ve had a lifelong crush on, who’s finally relented and made your fantasies come true. All of which leads me to reply dishonestly to Colin in this moment, despite my earlier promise to always speak my mind this week.
“I’m still figuring out my dreams,” I say softly.
“That’s understandable,” Colin replies. “You’re still young. It’s a big deal you figured out you don’t want to go to law school. Figuring out the stuff you don’t want to do gets you that much closer to what you do.”
I try to force air deep into my lungs, but it’s not possible. “I think working for you this week will go a long way toward helping me figure things out. Thank you again.”
“It’s nothing. My pleasure. As long as we’re being honest, I didn’t ask you to work for me, only as a favor to you. I’m also getting something out of it. You have a way of making me feel relaxed and calm, like nobody else, Ames. And that’s the kind of energy I want to surround myself with this week.”