Or try, at least.
“Guess we’ll never know.” He picked off a brownie crumb with a fork. “Obviously he doesn’t know I’ll be here. You don’t think it’s, like… gross?”
Not that it was any worse than his original plan. He hated showing up somewhere River couldn’t avoid him, though. He felt like a stalker. He kind ofwasa stalker.
“I think you both deserve to be happy and neither of you is, and that’s dumb.” Tori stirred her ice cubes. “You have to trysomething.”
“I will.” But definitely not until after River’s set. Jem slouched a little in his seat in an effort to stay inconspicuous.
The café was about half full when Lara stepped onto the stage, carrying her bass one-handed. River followed two steps behind her, his guitar slung over his shoulder.
Something ached in Jem’s chest.
He hadn’t seen River in person in almost two months, which made it hard to tell if the hollowness to his cheekbones came from life on the road or life after Jem. His favorite fidget spinner ring sparkled on his finger, but he wasn’t wearing the bracelet that matched Jem’s watch. Jem touched his wrist and told himself it didn’t have to mean anything.
River pulled out the stool with one foot and slung himself up on it, then adjusted the mic stand. Briefly, his fingers danced over the strings, and he listened with his head cocked. Checking the tuning. Jem had watched him do it a hundred times.
It didn’t usually feel like this.
River plugged in the patch cord. Lara set down her guitar and took her seat at the keyboard. She and River exchanged glances again. Jem hated that he couldn’t decipher their wordless communication.
Then River spoke into the mic. “How you doin’, Steamy Bean?” He kept his voice coffee-shop chill. He didn’t have tocommand his audience’s attention. They’d give it to him as soon as the music started. “This song is called ‘Real.’”
Jem had heard bits and pieces of the guitar part—it was an upbeat, kind of poppy love song—but not much of the substance. River sang about McDonald’s french fries and soft grass and sunny days, fishing and cold drinks, TV shows that didn’t make you think too hard. Dino nuggets and romance novels and Taylor Swift. Snapbacks and cream-colored sweaters and people who liked things, unapologetically, because life was short and joy was integral to survival.
It took Jem back to a first date in Santa Monica, melting ice cream cones and the Santa Anas:I’m so fucking glad you teach kindergarten. His throat tightened. He lowered his gaze to hide his burning eyes.
Tori reached across the table and put her hand over his watch band. “Jem….”
He shook his head mutely. He couldn’t speak, and he didn’t want comfort. He needed to hear every word.
As Jem had known they would, River and Lara had captured the room by the third verse. Several people were using their phones to take video, or frantically text. Jem hoped no one recognizedhim, if only to spare River another round of rumors.
The customers applauded when the song finished, not with cheers and whistles, but more than just coffee-shop polite.
“Thank you. We are Road Noise”—River winked at a girl taking video and Jemhatedit, hated that he could see through the cheerful front River put on, hated that he needed to do it—“and that was ‘Real.’”
People continued to trickle in. River and Lara threw in a couple covers of other artists, but the Road Noise originals kept Jem riveted in place.
River was pretty in the zone. Jem had seen him work a crowd from the stage, but today he focused on the music, responding to the audience’s energy. His attention barely seemed to stray from his hands and his guitar.
He didn’t speak much between songs, except to credit other songwriters. But finally he lifted his head and said, “We’re gonna end the set with a Fleetwood Mac tune,” and Jem’s stomach flipped. Surely he didn’t mean “Songbird”….
I could never get it right, he remembered River telling him.The emotion of it. Great song, though.
River didn’t look up again until the last refrain. Lara slipped flawlessly into the harmony:I love you, I love you, I love you—
And then River met Jem’s eyes.
Oh fuck.
To his credit, River didn’t falter. He finished the song. Lara leaned into her mic and said, “Thank you, we’re Road Noise!”
But Jem scarcely heard it, or the noise of his fellow patrons applauding. He hadn’t touched the brownie. He couldn’t do anything but watch as River stood and bowed and turned toward the back room.
Tori kicked him under the table. “Jesus Christ, what are you waiting for?” Her eyes were as glassy as his. “That man as good as confessed he still loves you. Gofix it!”
Fuck.
