“Okay, but we need actual paper instead of just your phone.”
I ask the waitress and she brings us over a few sheets and a pen. He writes down what we have so far and then keeps singing. “A black box, preserving history.”
I shake my head. “One lasthistory, instead ofpreservinghistory.”
He writes it down.
Both of us are grinning now, trading the pen and paper back and forth. By the time we get to the end, the sheet is a mess of crossed-out words and arrows pointing every whichway.
“Wish I had my acoustic,” he says, pulling the sheet closer. On the phone, he restarts the backing music track and sings the whole thing.
I close my eyes so I can really listen and not be distracted by his face. It’s strange but nice to hear his voice singing words we just wrote together. Somehow when he sings the words they gain more weight. It makes them feel more true. When he gets to the final three lines, my eyes fly open. His voice is so raw, so filled with wishing for something he can’t have back, that I have to see his face.
“You’re great,” he says. “At writing songs, I mean.” He rubs his hand over the back of his head.
“We wrote it together.”
“I’ve never written a song with another person before,” he says. “Not even Clay.” He shakes the sheet of paper at me. “Can I use these?”
“They’re already yours. You helped write them.”
“It was mostly you,” he says.
I shrug. “I’m really good at understanding heartbreak. It’s my superpower.”
CHAPTER 22
“Black Box,” Lyrics by Evie Thomas and Xavier Woods
[Verse 1]
Everything burns
Everything crashes
And our love just turns to ashes
You’re a black box, falling to the sea
A black box, one last history
[Chorus]
Open you up
Look inside
Already know
Just what I’ll find
Nothing survives
Nothing survives
Nothing survives
[Verse 2]
