"That's a good one."
"Yours?"
"Terry Pratchett," he replied without thinking. He jabbed his finger at the bookshelf. I looked to where he was pointing. "Is your favorite Sense and Sensibility?"
My lungs froze.
Because it was.
Harper had given me that exact book to me as a birthday present one year.
My entire body went eerily still.
Liam took it in his hand and opened the front cover. Something light and thin fell out. He picked it up between two fingers.
"You really have been friends for a long time," he said.
It was a photo. A photo of me and my friends back in high school.
It was a photo of me, Morris and Harper.
I suppressed the urge to snatch it away. I clasped my hands together in my lap.
He flicked his eyes to mine. "This is Morris, right?" he asked. "Who's the other guy?"
"H—" I faltered. My mouth went dry. I tried not to choke on the words. "That's Harper. We were all in a band together."
I waited for the gaping hole to open in my chest. Waited for ice to crystalize around my heart.
But as I waited, muscles locked and tensed, I realized something.
The gaping hole was no longer all-consuming. It was more like a small fissure. Bitingly cold darkness pricked at the edges of my ribcage, but didn't spread further.
It hurt, yes. Thinking of Harper still caused me pain.
But it was more distant now. It was like when I was on stage. I stillfeltit, but it no longer brought me to my knees. It no longer caused me unbearable anguish.
"How old are you guys here?" Liam asked.
"I don't know," I murmured. "I was maybe fifteen. The guys were a little older."
"You're cute as a brunette," he said. "You ever think of letting your hair go natural again?"
"No."
"Hm." He studied the photo. "So this is your first band?"
"Yeah."
"You were the singer and Morris played drums, right?" he asked. "Was Harper the guitarist?"
I nodded silently, not able to speak.
He glanced up at me when I didn't respond out loud.
"You okay?" he asked.
"Nostalgia," I lied.
