“I’ll see you later, Jake,” she says softly.
“Yeah,” I respond, but she’s already walking away, the echo of her still with me long after she leaves the building.
I sit motionless, staring at the empty chair across from me, the untouched coffee I ordered for her growing cold. Guilt and shame wash over me in waves. All I can think is how heartbreak doesn’t just happen once. Sometimes, you end up breaking someone else with the pieces of your own shattered parts.
I can’t deny the way this girl has made me feel—the excitement that rolls in my gut with her smile, and the crazy way my stomach flips when she laughs. I can’t ignorethe burn that crept up my arm after wiping invisible ice cream from her lip, or how hollow this space now feels, like someone has turned the dimmer down on a light I didn’t deserve.
I rub a hand over my face, exhaling heavily through my nose as I fall slack in my chair. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.I didn’t mean to let her in, or to start looking forward to the sound of her voice, or to feel that flicker of hope I swore I was done with.
Alana has easily become a soft, unexpected glow that makes me think I’m not completely numb anymore. Like maybe life actually has purpose, and you do end up where you’re supposed to.
But once that glow hit me, I got scared. I pulled away the second it got the tiniest bit warm.
And in doing so, I darkened my own sun—stole the heat right out of it—until all that’s left is a fading light that pales in comparison.
And, God, I want it to shine again.
Track 10
“That’s All” Nat King Cole, 1953
JAKE
IT'S BEEN FIVE long days since I’ve seen Alana. I’ve tried to ignore how it’s felt like much more, the same way I’m ignoring how dim each day has been without her. There’s no point in dwelling on it. I’m in no place to keep her, all battered and bruised, confused in my own head. I’d only bring her down right now, and she deserves a hell of a lot more from someone than that.
I picked up extra shifts at the bar just to avoid my thoughts of her. Well, not her necessarily, but all the things about her that I shouldn’t be thinking about. The way her lips curtain her beautiful smile. How her head tilts back when the laughter is just too much to keep herself upright. The gemstone-like glimmer in her eyes, and that little dimple that only shows on the left side but fades the moment her smile subsides.
These are things I shouldn’t be noticing, details I shouldn’t have trouble shaking from my head when she’s out of sight. In no way should I be memorizing or craving them. I shouldn’t be counting the seconds until I get them again. But I have. I’ve kept track of every second and wished for nothing more than the sweet relief of having her near me.
I take the stairs to her apartment two at a time, the climb doing nothing to steady the shake in my chest. By the time I reach her door, my hand hovers before I finally knock. My stomach twists with nerves. I’m here to fix what I broke, to reach for the light I let slip through my fingers. I silently pray it can be fixed at all, that I haven’t run out of the grace she so willingly gives me.
“Come in,” she calls from behind it, so I do. She’s stuffing the last of her things into her bag when I enter, her hair still wet from the shower.
Wet hair looks good on her. Just like everything else.
I add it to the list of things I shouldn’t be noticing.
It’s hard not to see everything about her. Alana is a beautiful woman. Stunning, honestly. She holds the kind of beauty that stops your heart the second your eyes catch hers. But it’s not just that she’s beautiful, it’s how effortless her radiance is. How humbly she carries it. The way she turns heads in every room but never once seems to know it.
For a moment, I just stand there, watching her as that familiar ache settles somewhere deep in my chest. The kind that reminds me how easy it is to want her, and how impossible it is to let that want show.
“Sorry. I’ll be ready in a minute,” she says hurriedly.
“It’s fine. I’m early,” I offer. It’s the only thing I can come up with that's not sayingyou can take forever, I just want to be near you.
I survey her apartment as I walk to meet her at the counter. It gives me something to focus on.
Her place is sleek and a bit more modern than I originally expected, but the warmth of her is there in the small things. A plant that cascades down from the top of a corner cabinet. A throw pillow that says Happiness in bright yellow along the back of her teal couch.
Her eyes meet mine curiously, and I give her a small grin that tilts her lips up at the corners. My heart gets that warm feeling again, so I direct my attention elsewhere, spinning the candle that’s on the counter before lifting it to my nose. A soft blend of rosewater and sandalwood fills the air, reminding me of her immediately.
She taps the screen of her phone to see that I am, in fact, fifteen minutes early.
“Oh, you’resuperearly,” she says. “What, are you trying to make up for being so late on our first date?” Her eyes sparkle with a forgiving teasing, and the tension in my chest loosens. The way she says it, so light and easy, tells me she’s not holding the other day against me. That small grace feels bigger than it should. Because I need it. I needed to be back here.
“First of all, I wasn’t late. And second,” I pause, placing the candle down between us, “our first date would be much better than the library.”
Her hands stop moving, and her smile waivers as she studies me. Her eyes narrow slightly, as if she’s trying to read my tone, my relaxed change in demeanor. Maybe she’s trying to figure out if it’s safe to fall into our language again, or if I’ll just pull out when it goes too far. Considering our last interaction, I don’t necessarily blame her, but it stings a little, anyway. She’s probably right. I probably will give a little before I take it away again.
