“I’m sure it’ll be good,” I said.
He hit play.
The car was instantly filled with a beat that pushed you forward through space. Usually, it takes his songs a second to build up and draw you into his universe, but this one started right in the middle.
Fifteen seconds in, a guitar mimicked the singing voice, as usual. The melody seemed familiar, though I couldn’t place it.
My body wanted to move to it. As the car rushed down the hill and the headlights lit up the pine trees on both sides of the road, I felt like I was already watching the music video.
The guitar carried the verse into the chorus.
“I don’t have all the words for it yet, but here’s what I thought of for the chorus,” Alex said.
As the beat switched and the tempo got faster, he sang:
“He was still breathing / my heart still beating / our skin still moving / the waves still folding / along the vast shore.”
“This is amazing,” I said, goosebumps prickling across my skin. “Why does it sound so familiar?”
“It’s the melody you hummed in the hot tub. And I think this is the hit we’ve been looking for.”
“But I was humming whatever…”
My body tingled. My lip trembled. This song was new and fresh—the kind of sound we could only produce together.
The demo ended rather abruptly, making it clear that it wasn’t finished yet.
“Can I hear it again?” I asked, and Alex quickly obliged. We listened to it twice more. The second time, I hummed along; the third time, I sang with all my might, improvising some terrible lyrics.
By the time the song reached its final climax for the third time, we rolled up the driveway to our house. The chickens in the coop to our left were lined up on a perch, their backs to us. I parked the car but left the engine running. My hands stayed on the wheel as I sank into the seat.
“So you like it?” Alex asked.
“Likeisdefinitelythe wrong word.” My voice dropped to almost a whisper. “I’m ecstatic.”
“It’s notthatgood. Not yet.”
“To me it is. Alex, I…” I turned to him. “Thank you.”
A smile appeared on his face, his lips parting slightly as if he couldn’t quite follow. “For what?”
“For making me enjoy life again.”
“What?”
“Alex, making music with you is the best fucking thing in the world. If I get to write song after song with you for the rest ofmy life without ever showing them to anyone else, I’ll die the happiest man in the world.”
I pulled him into a hug.
“I want to keep doing this with you, Alex—the music and everything else. I love watching you get completely lost in a project. I love spending time with your friends. I love sleepingwithyou, and sleepingnext toyou, too. I freaking love geeking out with you on the phone about guitar strings. Honestly, I even look forward to the next family reunion if I know you’ll be there.”
My palms pressed into his back, pulling his chest as close to mine as possible.
“Thank you for all of that. And…” I loosened my grip so I could look at him again. His eyes were just as shy as they were on the first day we met. “I don’t like to throw the word ‘love’ around easily. I’ve done that before, and… well, that’s a story for another day. But I think what I feel for you is worthy of that word.”
“You don’t have to say it?—”
“I love you, Alex.”
