Page 47 of Rock Me

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Jez

She’s on fire.

I knew writing nothing on that sheet of paper would be the right thing. She doesn’t need me to be suggesting songs to her. It was time to give her her wings back.

And she's taken flight.

My breath quickens following the frantic beat of her playing. So much emotion, so much feeling. I feel like I’m looking into her mind, and the words are written all over the walls, but in a language I can't understand.

And just when I think, there's no more surprise, she sings.

My god.

And all the jumbled words start to make sense. They form into clues revealing her thoughts. Whispers. Promises.

Delivered in the voice of a nefarious angel.

The singing ends as abruptly as it starts. And in the silence, I'm sure she can hear my breath. But I don't care. It's time. I step into the room, her back is turned to me, and my shadow is cast against her, a me-shaped silhouette, like she is being enveloped by me. I wish.

Her shoulders heave with her deep breaths, her fingers still pointing to the ground where her ukulele lies.

And there's no more time.

"You are astounding," I say. Knowing whatever word I use, it's not enough.

She spins around, surprised but not scared.

She must have known I've been listening all this time. All these days. I take a step forward and my shadow grows smaller, almost fitting completely against the line of her body

"Hi," I say. Like I've said it a million times. "I'm Jez.”

She looks up at me, her eyes scanning every inch of my face, like she's trying to build a 3D copy of it in her head. I don't say anything and just stand there and let her look at me. It gives me the chance to stare at her in turn.

She looks exactly the same. Save for a thinning of her hair on one side, it's like we're back sitting in that side alley three months ago.

And all I'm wanting to do is kiss her.

Her eyes travel back to mine and she licks her lips.

"I remember," she says.

My heart leaps into the air and somersaults. Pumping blood in all directions.

"You remember? You remember me from that night?" Why didn’t she come and tell me?

She drops her eyes. "Oh, no. I... um, you told me your name was Jez the other day, when you came into my room. I mean I remember that." Oh. And my heart plummets. "But...” She lifts her chin and we lock eyes again. “I think I must remember you from somewhere else as well."

I can’t help but smile. There’s something so vulnerable about her, I remind myself to be gentle. I wish I’d thought to do so that first time I went into her room, but I hadn’t known what was going to happen.

"Do you want me to tell you?"

She doesn't answer and just bends slightly to pick up her ukulele and cradle it under her left arm. Each movement is precise, fluid, gentle.

"To be honest? I don't.” And she walks past me and sits on one of the couches.

I give myself that moment, my back turned to her, to react. She doesn’t want to know you, Jez. What are you going to do about it?”