But I surprise myself too.
My palm opens, and I thread our fingers together.
The contact slams into me, raw emotion locking in my throat. I tip my head back against the siding and close my eyes. I can’t look at her. My heart is fucking dynamite in my chest, a match strike away from detonating. It’s been years since someone has touched me like this.
Like they meant it. Like I mattered.
My mind races, telling me to run.
New city. New life. Different girl.
That’s what I do.
I run.
But she squeezes my hand, her thumb brushing against my skin.
As if she hears me howling.
“I hate that you lost someone so important to you,” she breathes out. “Something irreplaceable. It’s not fair.”
Her thumb keeps moving with careful, gentle strokes.
Is this how it’s going to be?
Every night, a new line crossed. A glance, a song, a hug.
This.
With every waning midnight, tragedy looms closer. She’d fucking hate herself if something happened. It would ruin her. And I think that’s the only thing keeping me from pulling her to me and kissing the watermelon balm off her lips.
Our hands are still loosely entwined as her words sink in. I’m not sure what to say. A few nights ago, I was the one holding her together, talking her through it. Now she’s the anchor.
“Yeah,” I finally answer, my ring dusting along the side of her knuckle. “It’s staggering what stays with you. Shapes you. You lose something, and you think the memories will fade, but they don’t. They just latch on tighter, like a song on repeat, getting louder every time you play it.”
“Songs are kind of like people,” she muses, staring at our joined hands, looking dazed. Conflicted and settled, all at once. “Some people you just notice. You see their smile, hear their voice, but they don’t leave a lasting impression. And then you come across the kind of people who burrow deep. They become more than smiles and eyes, more than just another voice in the crowd. They become ingrained. Even when the songs are over and those people leave, you still feel them. They just…stick.”
My chest hammers as I stare into the dark abyss, the stars blurring into streaks. “That’s when you know it’s a good song.”
She hums thoughtfully. “That’s when you know it’s love.”
I blink. Look back down at her.
Our eyes meet beneath the string lights, and something stirs. A quiet moment, soft and unseen, but so tangible it reaches inside and whittles me down to bare bones.
I feel it. I feel thatshefeels it. This attraction. This insidious draw, armed with teeth and wings and a pounding pulse. It’s not one-sided.
It’s mutual.
And fuck how I wish it wasn’t.
“No matter what,” she says, her attention drifting to the snuffed out cigarette on the deck. “At least we still have music.”
I let go of her hand. But I don’t reply.
I can’t.
Because something inside of me knows…
