Chapter 11 The Song of Distance
ELEVEN
THE SONG OF DISTANCE
ALEX
We chatted every day for the four days he was traveling with his friends.
In the mornings, he would text me a quick greeting, and once I replied, he would ask how my night had been.
In the early afternoons, he would send pictures of where they were or tell me about something they had done.
And in the evenings, we would chat about what music he was listening to while he was in their shared hotel room, pretending his friends weren’t sleeping right next to him.
Before long, I found myself constantly checking my phone. I started telling him about my days, too: about the ridiculous argument Dany and Darcy got into about hot dogs, how everyone left once the reunion was over, and what songs I was working on.
Reality only ever caught up with me after he said goodnight.
Every evening, when the messages stopped and I was alone in bed, I couldn’t help imagining what it would be like to be with him in that hotel room. Despite how much we talked, I couldn’t bring myself to tell him that.
Four days later, when he got back to Nevada, we video-called for the first time.
He had suggested it, saying he wanted to keep his promise to record some vocals and that he would like to talk about it sooner rather than later.
Of course, I agreed, even though the three-hour time difference meant we could only talk late at night.
It was already eleven on Thursday night when the call I had been waiting for finally came. His smiling face filled the entire screen as he moved through a dark room.
“Give me a second. I literally just got home.”
His soft, soothing voice sent a wave of warmth through my body. Hearing him again did something to me that made me question my sanity: it gave me the hardest boner I’d had since he sang for me.
I glanced at the small image of myself in the corner of my screen to see if my phone’s angle gave anything away. I looked as normal as ever, but still, the boner was a problem.
After exchanging some small talk about his trip (during which I had the hardest time not thinking about my boner), we got into his plans for recording the vocals.
He asked about formats, compression, and how I wanted them to sound, making it clear again that he wasn’t new to any of this.
The whole conversation stayed as professional as I had intended.
The moment I turned my camera off, though, my hand dropped to my crotch and kneaded my bulge.
All the dirty images of what we had done—and what I wanted to do with him again—rushed through my head, and a minute later, I barely managed to pull my shirt up before I shot my load onto my belly.
I panted, let my head fall back against the bed, and just sat there, unmoving, twice as long as it had taken me to jerk off, staring at the sticky mess.
That night, I slept badly, but I forgot all about it the next morning when I woke up to a file in my inbox.
Sebastian
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Nora went out. I couldn’t let the opportunity slip away.
It’s not the best version, but it should give you something to work with. I promise I’ll get a proper mic.
I jumped out of bed and went straight to my laptop to create a new mix. Throughout the day, I listened to his angelic voice on repeat, jotting notes on my phone about everything I wanted to tweak once I finished my daily chores.
By the time Sebastian called me again that evening, I had already finished the updated version of the song, with his vocals mixed in and new instrumental fills added to match his interpretation.
Our conversation was surprisingly focused.
He explained what he was trying to achieve and asked if it aligned with my vision.
He asked for suggestions and even offered ideas to make his vocals sound more alive.
And this time around, I could actually enjoy talking to him without a boner throbbing in my pants.
From then on, whenever I had a new song half-finished, I’d send it to him—at his ongoing request—and my whole body sang when he told me he loved it. He described what my music made him see in his mind’s eye, and his descriptions sparked more ideas that I couldn’t wait to work into the tracks.
We called each other almost every evening. Even when he didn’t have time to record anything, Sebastian would ask if I was up for a chat. I always was. Despite the distance, I felt closer to him every day.
We talked about all kinds of things: what we did during the day; our favorite musicians, food, and movies; his classes; my dream of making an album one day; his dream of traveling the world; how he called his parents to check in and didn’t get into a fight with his dad for once; and how he couldn’t get my songs out of his head, to the point that he had started humming them at home, too.
Apparently, he hummed so much without realizing it that Nora teased him about it. She also “accidentally” crashed one of our calls once, saying she wanted to see the guy Sebastian wouldn’t stop fawning over.
The more often we talked, the more relaxed he became.
At first, he always sat up straight and wore a nice shirt.
Soon, though, he started wearing less and less: a blue button-up shirt with the top four buttons undone; a tank top as he nestled into the pillows on his bed, his hands tucked behind his head as if he wanted to show off his armpits; or no shirt at all, claiming their AC was broken.
We grew so comfortable around each other that, one Saturday evening in early March—about three weeks after the family reunion—he even played his guitar for me over the phone to thank me for bringing music back into his life.
He performed one of my songs acoustically, and it was so beautiful that tears streamed down my face before I even realized it. I just sat there, unable to stop crying, until he spoke.
“I wish I could hug you right now.” He held his guitar close, its strings still vibrating from the last chords.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to cry.” I wiped my face. “This is the best gift anyone’s ever given me.”
“I wish I could’ve given it to you in person.” He rested his head against the guitar, rocking gently back and forth. “Can I confess something? I hate that we’re so far apart.”
My fingers clutched around my phone, as if it were his hand. His words spoke a truth I had ignored for weeks, because acknowledging it always made my chest feel heavy.
“It’s the same for me,” I said.
Sebastian’s fingers slid over the guitar strings without playing anything, probably just enjoying the feeling. “I wish we could spend at least a few more days together. Just the two of us.”
“That would be nice,” I replied.
“You think so?”
“Of course. But there’s not much we can do about it, is there?”
I pulled the blanket from my bed over my shoulders because the floor suddenly felt cold. Maybe I shouldn’t sit on the carpet so much.
His fingers plucked the D string softly. “That’s not entirely true.”
“What do you mean?”
He sat up and held the strings to keep them from vibrating.
“I have a week off during spring break. I planned to study, but if I pull a few all-nighters, I could take the whole week off.” His eyes, which had been resting on something next to his camera until now, turned directly toward me.
“What would you say if I invited you to Las Vegas? I know, flights aren’t cheap, but I could chip in for half. ”
“You…” My breath caught in my throat. “You’d already spend, what, five hundred dollars on me?”
“Of course. You’re worth every penny.” He put his guitar down, picked up his phone, and brought it closer to his face.
“Think about it. We could have some more jam sessions. We could go to a karaoke bar with Nora and Raul. Maybe we could even do some of the things we used to do, you know, in that bed behind you.” He smiled hopefully. “Wouldn’t that be nice?”
“Sebastian, I…” I stuttered, staring into the camera and chewing my lip as I tried to think of how to respond.
Before I found any words, though, his smile faded, and he waved a hand. “I’m sorry. Ignore me. I said that on a whim. It’s okay if—”
“No, that’s not it. I would love to spend time with you in person again,” I said, so he wouldn’t get the wrong idea. Of course, I’d love to see him again. Our calls had become special. He was the person I thought about when I woke up and when I went to bed. “Honestly, I’m just surprised.”
“Me too. I had that idea a second ago.” His lips pulled in as he slowly inhaled, then he shook his head.
“Who am I kidding? I’ve been thinking about it for a couple of days.
” He blushed. “I know it’s all complicated, especially since you live with my parents and we can’t just tell them.
But doing all of this online… I feel like we’re missing out big time. ”
My breaths were heavy, not only because his invitation had come out of the blue, but also because I understood where he was coming from.
So far, this had been nothing but a sweet fantasy, an escape from reality, but it was clear that we were both invested in this connection.
Maybe, if we had a little more time together to figure things out, this could actually go somewhere.
“There is a problem with your proposal,” I said. “I can’t leave Seastone during spring break. Your parents booked a vacation, so I have to stay and take care of the house and the animals. Otherwise, I’d book a flight right now.”
“My parents are gone?” Sebastian asked, narrowing his eyes. “I mean, I could, in theory, also come to Seastone. Nora would probably give me an earful because she’s dying to meet you, but she’ll get over it.”
“Wouldn’t it look bad, or at least raise some questions, if you came here while your parents are gone?”
“Not if they don’t know.”
His words demanded a few seconds of silence.