28. chapter twenty eight
chapter twenty eight
trace my tattoos and ask me what they mean
S omething about this place had felt a lot grayer since my run inwith Goldie at the game last week, and for the first time since I’d been here, I’d never wanted to leave more.
It probably didn’t help that it hadn’t stopped raining in the city forat least a week, cursing what was a clear and crisp start to November with the dreariness I’m used to seeing back home. It would have made me miss home—the rain and the turbulent clouds—but if anything, it felt like what I was trying to escape was finally catching up with me.
As though the shadows weren’t good enough anymore.
As though this place that I thought meant nothing to me wasbecoming the type of home I was running away from.
All that on top of fact that there was someone here who knew whatI was trying to run from… I had to wonder whether all of this—every choice I’d made after that night—had been a mistake.
The grassy knoll that me and Goldie had found the day I told herwhat I’d found out about Henry seemed to be one of the only places where I felt comfortable, where I felt free, and whether it was raining or not, I’d still come here. Just to escape reality for a while.
Like I was doing now.
I brushed past a walking tour full of tourists, carefully avoidingthem knocking off my guitar that was slung over my shoulders, and made a beeline towards the fountain that sat in the centre of Washington Square Park. The mist from the water mixed with the rain made the place feel cold, and I swore at myself for not bringing a jacket with me.
I’d be fine; being brought up England has it’s advantages, andknowing how to brave the rain is one of them.
I glance over at the marble arch that does nothing but whisk meback to London, before I carry on to the left and set my eyes on the patch of grass, just under the protection of the droopy branches of an oak tree.
I’d been here a few times now, the first when I came with Gold’s, and the otherfew times just on my own, after everything happened with Henry. I don’t know what it was about the place; I just liked it. And because of everything else going on around the park, no-one took any notice of me when I set up my guitar and got to working on a few of the songs I’ve got lined up for this album.
Writing seemed to be the one thing that hadn’t ruined my mood these past fewweeks. If anything, drafting up the verses and figuring out melodies was the only thing that took my mind off of everything. It stopped me from overthinking the threats that Henry shot at me like an arrow, piercing the most fragile part of me.
I hiked my guitar case further up my shoulder before brushing pastanother crowd and dipping down a bench-lined path to get to the—
Goldie.
I stopped in my tracks when I saw her, my heart lodging in my throat and allthe air in my lungs evaporating.
I had to blink, making sure that she really was the person sitting on one of thebenches ahead of me, and not some weird apparition that the thought of her had caused. I hadn’t seen her since the game, since she was tucked under my umbrella and gazing up at me with those eyes that felt like a log fire, warming my frozen body. And yet every second that passed, she’d been the only thing on my mind.
It was her. I’d recognise that face in the busiest of crowds on the busiest day ofthe year.
She could never get lost in one.
I ran a hand through my damp hair, if only to give myself time to think aboutwhat I was going to do. Some bitter voice in my mind told me to leave her be, to take her walking away from me the other night as the sign I needed to distance us for good.
Good for you, you plonker. Letting her walk back into the arseholewho’s threatening to ruin you and break her heart isn’t good.
That thought triggered another voice, all timid and quiet, trying as best as itcould to tell me to just talk to her. And that was enough to get my feet moving towards her.
Regardless of what we were, or what we were pretending to be, I still cared forthat girl, and if the way she was sitting on a bench in the rain, mixed with the way I could tell the water rolling down her cheeks wasn’t raindrops, checking if she was okay felt like the only thing I wanted to do.
It was those same thoughts and raging jealousy inside me that drewme to her at the game.
I felt my pulse grow erratic with every step I dared, only simmeringonce I traced the parts of her that she wasn’t hiding. Her red cheeks, the wet ends of her golden plaites, shaky legs… I studied it all. As I neared her, I cleared my throat, subtly enough that she peeked up from under the hood of her jumper.
I dipped my head enough to catch her stare as I said, “Hey, Gold’s.”
Her brown eyes were sodden, one final tear slipping from her lash line as shegazed at me. Quick as anything, she hiked up the corners of her mouth, wiping away any evidence that she was sad.
“Oh, hey.” She mumbled, pulling at the sleeves of her thick jumper, disguisinga chill that had her feet tucking under the bench.
I nodded my chin at her. “What’s going on?”
She tucked a damp strand of hair behind her ear, shaking her head. “Oh, it’s just…” I held her eyes as she held me, her thoughts asclear against her iris’s as I sank into them. And then she sighed. “Henry was supposed to be here an hour ago, but he isn’t picking up and… well, I thought it best to wait for him.”
That motherfucker.
“You’ve been sitting in the rain for an hour waiting for him?” Shenodded. “Gold’s—”
“It’s okay, I’m fine. This is all my fault anyway.” She shrugged, alittle laugh slipping from her lips as she let her gaze fall.
I scoffed. “Why would the fact that he ditched you be yourfault?”
She kept her head down, but her sigh reached my ears just enough.“I’d rather not tell you.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay, well, now you have to tell me.”
She sighed as she tilted her head to the sky, her eyes wide, soakingup all the light she could before tilting her head to face me. “It’s so stupid.” She shook her head. “He walked me home from the Lions game, and we got talking about how we’d been distant and why that had happened. And then we got talking about us and what we wanted and when I confessed…” Her eyes moved to me for a moment, before she shook her head. “It doesn’t matter, but anyway, we had this whole argument; I was still in my head, I wasn’t thinking straight and… I called him Tristan.”
I pulled my lips together as my eyes got wide, poking my headforward slightly. “You called him Tristan?”
“It was an accident, and I think it was because I saw you.” Her eyesheld mine, like she’d forgotten all about our run-in at that game. “Truthfully, I was still thinking about what happened with you for the rest of that game, so really, I should blame you for this.” She lifted her hands and waved them around, a whisper of a smile gracing her face.
I know it shouldn’t have, but a part of me felt relieved that she’ddone that tohim, regardless of whether it was an accident or not; it let Henry know who she was thinking about when she was with him. That there wasn’t a scheme he could dream of that could severe the invisible string from around us.
Then there was the other part that realised that she’d been sittingin the rain for an hour because, I guess, he was trying to bruise her ego like she’d done with him.
And here Goldie was blaming herself for someone else’s actions.
“That wasn’t your fault, Gold’s,” I reminded her, “And if he wants toleave you in the pissing rain while you berate yourself for that, then I’m gonna tell you what I told you all those weeks ago.” She looked up at me, peering from behind her hood, but that was all I needed to look her dead in the eyes and remind this girl, “You’re too good for him.”
Silence descend on us for a second or two, Goldie taking a moment for herselfto let my words sink in, and when I realised she wasn’t going to offer anything else, I took the lead. “So does this mean you’re free today?”
She shrugged, fiddling with the frayed parts of her jeans. “I should probably goback and study. It’s good weather for it, and I want to do some more internal research for the case study.”
I barked a laugh. “Goldie, you’re a walking psychology textbook; youcan skip a day of studying.” A small smile, barely a smile at all when I traced it again, rested on her mouth. “I’m sorry,” I blurted, earning back her eyes. “For being so distant, and for... well, for being an arsehole last week.”
She tilted her head. “You weren’t an asshole, you were justconcerned.”
“I was both, Goldie. And I’m really sorry.”
She flailed her wrist, her sodden hoodie flopping around her hand.“It’s fine.”
I shifted my weight between my feet, sinking my bottom lipbetween my teeth before I asked, “So… today?”
Calmness sat around her for a moment, like the whole park quieted so shecould exist in her mind, anything to make her see what she didn’t want to. And then the rain eased, and the breeze stilled, and as she sat there with her thoughts, she picked at the gold rings that adorned her hands, spinning and spinning them until she stopped, and her head slowly craned up to meet me.
It was like the sun shone above us when her eyes landed on mine andshe asked, “What did you have in mind?”
I know I shouldn’t be encouraging this; after all, if Henry found out that I’dswooped in and saved the day after he’d ditched her, he’d tell everyone in a heartbeat about what happened in London. But when it came to Goldie, I didn’t care about what happened to me; I didn’t care if everyone in this fucking park found out this second. So long as I was with her, I couldn’t care less about what was happening outside this bubble we’d made ourselves.
I slumped to the side, and when I couldn’t come up anything I’drather do than sit here all day in the rain and just talk to her, the guitar on my shoulders slid down my shoulder, reminding me it was there.
And a light bulb went off in my head.
I looked back at her, connecting our eyes, and nodded my head atmy guitar.
She followed my line of sight, and I didn’t do a thing to hide mysmile when I watched her eyes get wide. “Oh, absolutely not; that is a waste of both of our time.” She gets up, doing a spin like she was trying to fathom even playing the guitar.
“C’mon, what’s the worst that can happen?”
She scoffed. “A lot. And that guitar looks expensive.”
“It’s just a guitar, Gold’s.” I said, watching as she folded her armsaround her waist, the sodden fabric bunching the end of her braid.
We stayed that way for a moment or two, in a silent battle, asthough we knew each other’s minds well enough, knew what was floating around in there, that words weren’t necessary.
My gaze dipped as the inside of her cheek disappeared between herteeth, telling me better than she could that she was seriously considering this.
So I took one last jab and whispered, “I dare ya.”
My body seemed to lift, almost like I was weightless, as I watchedher eyes widen, her lashes just grazing her lids, showing off the molten gold swirls that lived in her eyes.
Streams of lyrics gushed through my mind the longer I studiedthem, like they always did when she was the center of my attention. Poetic words that had never once been a part of my vocabulary were suddenly all I wanted to speak whenever I looked at her.
All I wanted to write about.
She was a muse that I’d risk everything for, and yet, while that should havescared me, should have made me break down like I had done by the fountain, it was like I’d never known what it was to be scared.
Looking down at her, standing in this facade we’d made for ourselves, madeevery nightmare I’d had about the world finding out the truth look like the prettiest of daydreams. Like the outside world no longer existed, and all I had to focus on was her.
Which was why I couldn’t pin down my smile even if I wanted to when she stood that little bit taller, the way she always does, and breathed, “Fine.”
We walk side by side until we reach the patch of grass we’d sat at a few weeksago, the rain easing up to a misty shower as we sat next to each other, under the cover of the tree. Goldie set down the blanket that she’d brought with her at the base of the trunk, both of us claiming spots only inches from each other.
I started unclipping the guitar case as I asked her, “So you’ve neverplayed guitar before?”
She shook her head, bringing her knees up to her chest and holdingthem. “Notreally, a little in middle school, but I quickly figured out that a career in the musical arts wasn’t on the cards for me.”
I laughed, pulling the case open and lifting the only acoustic guitar I’d broughtwith me onto my lap. “Well, maybe you just had a shit teacher.”
“Or maybe I was just shit.”
“I find that very hard to believe. You’re unfairly good ateverything.”
She peered up at me and smirked, the creases in her smile linewarming me like usual.
I shrugged, before I blurted. “Well, apart from rememberingnames—”
“Hey!” Her laugh felt like a sigh of relief as it echoed around ourlittle bubble. “Too soon.” She whispered, as her smile lit up.
I blew a laugh out of my nose, before my eyes dipped to the guitar,distracting me. “Okay, we’ll go over the main chords, get you comfortable with using a pick, and go from there. Sound good?”
She shakes her head, her smile only growing. “No, no, it sounds terrifying,actually.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Your face is still on TV, Gold’s, and this is what you findterrifying?”
“Yep.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. “I didn’t care about messing up in front of the whole worldbecause I couldn’t care less about whether what I was doing was good or not. Their opinions didn’t matter, but this…“ Just as my mind caught on to what she wasn’t saying, she cleared her throat. “Okay, hand her over then.”
I swallowed, catching my breath like she could steal it by justlooking at me the right way, before I slid the guitar over to her, the embroidered strap falling around her body.
She relaxed her knees and crossed them, settling and getting used to having thething in her hands. She shimmied herself as she sat up right, and I never thought seeing a girl with my guitar in her hands could have such an effect on me, but then again, I hadn’t pictured Goldie with my guitar before.
And it was a picture that would’ve been my favourite if I walked past it in agallery.
I shook my head, leaning over to set her fingers in the right places for thechords. “So that’s a C chord; now take the pick and glide it across the strings.”
Like magic, a beautiful C chord rippled between us.
“Good,” I said, fixing her hands in an F. “And again.” She did as I said, and anF chord sounded out.
I did the same with the rest of the base chords that were practically in everysong imaginable, giving her the full tool kit to get going.
I smiled at her. “Can you try playing one after the other?”
She peered up at me as she nodded. “I’ll try.” Her eyes cast down to the guitar,determination written across her face in the prettiest way possible.
She fixed her fingers to play a C chord, then a B, and just as she went to playan F, her fingers slipped, and she threw her head back as a groan escaped her. “I suck.”
I couldn’t help but giggle at that. “You don’t suck; just try again.”
She repeated the chords I taught her, but this time she got stuck on the B chord. She groaned again, the sound weaving between the raindrops that were hittingthe tree and falling down onto us. “Tristan, this is useless.” Her laugh made me laugh, and as she went to hand me back the guitar, I shook my head.
“No way, you’re gonna get this.” I nodded my head to the side and patted theblanket in front of me, my legs wide so she could slide in. “Come ere’,”
Her eyes widened once she saw what I was suggesting. “Oh, Tristan, I don’tknow—”
“Gold’s, it’s me.”
She looked at me for a moment, searching for something in my eyes as hercheeks blushed. But as I sank into her stare, she bunched up the sleeves of her jumper and sighed as she crept over to the space between my legs.
And as I placed my guitar in front of her and felt her settle against me, I askedmyself what I’d done, after everything, to deserve such peace.
How could something as simple as playing guitar in the rain with myfavourite person on the planet make the world feel like it wasn’t ready to cave in on me and the life I’d come to love here?
I tensed as her back met my chest, sucking in a subtle breath and waiting untilshe was comfortable to slowly let it out. As the breeze skated past us, I had to squeeze my eyes shut, that heavenly mixture of strawberries and vanilla making it hard to concentrate on why she was in my lap in the first place.
I shuffled the guitar until it was comfortable for both of us, sitting up slightly topeer over her shoulder, and before I went to fix her hands in the right place, I asked her, “Is this okay?”
I felt her nod against my chest. “Yes.” She sighed, almost breathlessly.
I took her hands then, ones that made snowflakes feel like fire embers, but allthat made me do was hold them tighter. “Okay, now I’ll hold the guitar, and you play the chords, okay?”
“Okay.” She giggled, which made that goofy smile I only seemed to smilearound her shine behind her head.
I took hold of the neck and let the body rest on her lap, and when I said so, sheplayed the chords, each one as seamless and beautiful as the last. “See, you don’t suck.”
She let her head fall back, like she forgot that my shoulder was there to catch it,pulling it up before it settled. “I don’t suck because you’re doing all the hard work.”
“I’m just propping it up; you’re making the music, Gold’s.”
Her chuckle rumbled against my chest, as a few raindrops from the branchesabove us landed on us, before she went again. “What are these chords, anyway?” She asked as she began to play them again.
I shrugged, nudging her slightly as I did. “Just something I’ve been messingwith; I didn’t know if it had potential or not.”
She shifted her head, not enough to see me, but enough that I could make outthe curve of her lips and the blossom of her red cheeks. “Do they have lyrics?”
I heard that prying tone in her voice, and it amazed me how shecould make it sound so sweet. And without her seeing, I shook my head. “No way.”
She shifted fully then, her eyes right on me. “What?”
I dared to look down at her. “I am not singing in front of you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’ll sing in front of a crowd of New Yorkers, but notme?”
“Yeah, because that wasn’t terrifying.”
“And I am?”
“The idea of fucking up in front of you is, yeah.”
She shifted around, settling back against my chest. “I want to hear it.”
I wondered, then, if she could feel how fast my heart was beating against herback. I wondered if she’d ask me about it, or whether she wanted to ignore it. I don’t know which I’d prefer, to be honest. Having her know just how much of an effect she has on me, how much having her near me makes me feel like a different person, a better person, would only complicate… everything.
She deserved someone who wasn’t keeping a part of themselves hidden. Shedeserved a love that was the type she’d been dreaming about, and I wasn’t sure I could offer her that. God knows that I wanted to, but part of me wondered whether I could ever love a girl like Goldie the way that she needed to be loved.
With a gentle intensity that wouldn't dull her shine.
With just as much light to power hers.
With honesty.
But having her here, right up against me and ignoring the heartbeat that I knewfor a fact she could feel, it made me want to come clean. It made me hopeful.
If Henry saw us now, he’d tell her, so maybe I should just beat him to it.
Then my heart beat picked up for a different reason entirely, thumping at a rateI wasn’t sure how to disguise, scared about what Goldie would think of me once she found out who I was before I knew her.
Who I’d been pretending to be whilst pretending to love her.
“Tristan?” Her delicate voice pulled me out of my head. “You okay?”
She could definitely feel my heart.
I nodded against her. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
And before I could let my thoughts drag me away, I readjusted my grip on the guitar and cleared my throat.
Music was always the thing that calmed me down, what took my mind off thethings I’d been worrying about that day. But with Goldie in my lap and my mind working overtime, I still felt the worry of the unknown, sitting there like an unclaimed parcel on a doorstep.
So, I started to play the song that had been floating around in myhead since my first week here, and I prayed that Goldie was too focused on the music to read between the lyrics.
I kept my voice quiet to start with, keeping our bubble intact, safe from the chaos outside of it. It was more of a whisper, intended for her ears and her ears only—the kind that made her shiver once I hit the high notes. I was at the chorus soon enough, centered around metaphors about the sun and its powers to cancel out the darkness. I soon lost interest in wondering whether or not she was picking up on how every word that was leaving my mouth was all about her.
About her smile. About her presence. About the way she makes me want toexist around her every hour of the fucking day.
It was as obvious as the storm above us and the days of rain it promised.
I heard her suck in a breath when I sang something about a star that was meantto die, and how life was poured back into it once it crossed collision courses with the brightest one in the sky.
At that point, I gave up on the lyrics, and instead just strummed the guitar,repeating the verse melody over and over again, like the elevator music to my thoughts. I had to swallow away the lump in my throat, and tap my head back against the tree, anything to get rid of the bulk of tears I could feel building up.
After a moment or two, the quiet chords floating around us, I felt something,grazing my arm in the most delicate way, and it didn’t take me anytime at all to realise that it was her.
“What does this one mean?” Her tiny voice asked. “And this one.”
I craned my neck over her shoulder to see what she was tracing, and when Isaw her finger gliding across the black outlines of my tattoos, I smiled against her sodden hair, no longer caring if it made how down bad I was for this girl obvious.
I was content, and if I could tell my past self that this was a feeling thatbelonged in his future, then that was all that mattered.
“What do you think it means, the feather?” I asked her, watching her glide herfinger over the fine line feather that was in the space between my thumb and my wrist.
She huffed a small laugh, resting her head back on my shoulder, her eyes barelymeeting mine. “Let me guess, some edgy metaphor about getting your freedom and finally living your life by your own means?”
I couldn’t help but snort a laugh, my head falling back against the tree truck.
“What?” Goldie laughed, shifting fully around to face me, her back curling upin my arms.
I dropped my head with a sigh, as a smile bloomed across my face. I met herstare, as I said. “No, I uh… I actually wanted to be Peter Pan when I was little, and… it’s still one of my favourite movies. Also explains why 'Neverland' and 'Second Star' are probably my favourites songs I've ever written.”
This is usually where I’d expect a laugh, but Goldie just smiled up at me, eyes all knowing and wide.
“Go ahead, you can laugh.”
“Why would I laugh at that?”
I shrugged. “Because you just earned a valuable piece of information that couldmake me do anything for you to keep it to yourself.”
Her lashes fanned me as she blinked, the blush in her cheeks still as vibrant asthey were minutes ago. “I’m not laughing because it doesn’t surprise me, Tristan. Everyone else might think you’re this brooding guy with a guitar who doesn’t have any emotions,” She dropped her eyes, weighing up the words on the tip of her tongue, before letting her head fall back to meet me. “But those people don’t get to see you like I do. Those people don’t see you when you’re right up against the glass at a Lions game, giving pep talks to Finn when he gets nervous.” She let her hand rest on the neck of the guitar. “They don’t see you doing this, when you don’t even want to be here.”
Her laugh was so conscious, and yet, I could see her mind was on anotherrealm entirely. But I didn’t want to figure out what that meant. I didn’t want to fall into the rabbit holes that I’d lead her down, all to cover up who I used to be.
So I shook my head and asked, “You’re not gonna tell anyone?”
Wonder lit up her eyes as she whispered, “No, I’m going to treasure it, Tristan.”
My heart skipped.
“Figuring you out is one of my favourite things, so when I get a little piece ofyou that just confirms to me that your the guy I know you are, I’m going to treasure it.” I didn’t flinch when I felt her thumb graze mine. “Anything that I can remember about you for when you’re not here anymore, I’ll take.”
My heart didn’t skip then. No, my heart in that moment was like a window,being pelted by stones and rocks and anything else that would ensure it was never, ever fixed.
And I deserved it.
I didn’t break our stare as my mouth pried open, and I confessed, “I know Iwanted to be Peter Pan, but sometimes I feel like I wished for it a bit to hard and became a lost boy.”
She shrugged as the corners of her mouth tugged higher. “Peter was a lost boy,maybe you’re still working your way up.” A laugh slipped out of me, humorless and painful, but before I could do anything else, Goldie stopped grazing and grabbed my hand. “But you’re amazing as you are, Tristan. Don’t think you need to be perfect to get what you’ve always wanted.”
But I’m not perfect for you, and you’re what I want.
Goldie was practically cradled in my arms, the guitar a forgotten thing, leavingus in the perfect position for me to trace every detail of her face—the way I could tell she was doing with me.
As I gazed at her, I saw a raindrop, then another, land on the apple of her cheek,and without a second thought, I glided my thumb over the curve, savoring how warm they were.
I watched my thumb as it wiped the rain away, if only to distract me from howintense her stare was. It was like the trail of a shooting star, lining the edges of my face.
It burned in a way that I’d only ever felt when her attention was on me, andpart of me wondered if this was what addiction really felt like.
I’d never craved other things like I craved her. I found myself itching to becloser to her, to learn more of her, and to have her consume every part of me, even though she was only inches away.
That thought made me realise just how close our faces had become. I saw themoment Goldie realised, too, but what had my thumb carrying on swiping at her cheeks and edging closer, was the fact that she didn’t stop either.
The pieces of my heart that were still intact were ready to burst free as Iwatched us get closer. Our noses barely brushed, and our mouths a breath away from falling into oblivion.
“Gold’s—”
“The other night, you said plans change.” Her pulse quickened, asthe bridge of her nose brushed the tip of mine. “What did you mean by that?”
I did the best I could to suck in a breath without closing that gap, my mindrunning wild with the truth that I needed to tell her before our mouths crashed. “I meant that—”
I slowly close my eyes as the vibrations of my phone filter between us, and the tension starts to slip off us like the raindrops from the branches. I pull away as slowly as I can, easing her away from me until my back is flush against the trunk of the tree.
I try not to look at the sadness swimming in her eyes as I pull out my phone,but then I’m thinking of ways to get rid of the confusion in mine when I look at who's calling me.
But she see’s it. “Who is it?”
Worry smothered my words. "Its… it’s Cora.”
Quick as anything, Goldie pulls out her phone from the pocket ofher hoodie, before frantically running a hand through the back of her head. “Oh my God, I’ve got ten missed calls from her; answer it.”
I don’t waste any more time before I swipe at my screen and rest the thing against my ear. “Hey—”
“Tristan? Oh thank god.” The panic in her voice only made my heartrate speed up. “It’s Finn; he had an accident at practice.”
It felt like the ground beneath us had fallen ten feet. “Where is he?” I asked, unwrapping the guitar strap from Gold’s.
“Chelsea Medical Centre, Jess is on his way and I'm nearly there.”
“Okay, we’ll be there soon.”
I switched off my phone and threw it back into my pocket, beforedropping the guitar back into to its case without a care.
Goldie’s hands found my shaky ones, stopping me and forcing myeyes back on her. “Hey, what the matter—”
“Finn,” I rushed, catching my breath as I got to my knees. “He’s inthe hospital.”