Chapter 34 Cole • Now
Chapter thirty-four
Cole · Now
Swing Life Away – Rise Against
RIXIE
If you’re about done throwing a hissy fit, I have something to show you
I blow air into my cheeks to stifle my laughter.
Only Hendrix Moore can turn around and call me storming out on her after she dropped a bombshell a hissy fit.
And maybe she’s right. I have no right to be frustrated over the career path she chose.
Even if it does fucking hurt to know that while I was out there chasing the future we planned together, she ended up on an entirely different path.
My grip tightens on my phone when another text flashes up on the screen.
RIXIE
I have triple chocolate chip cookies and full fat coke…
A chuckle bursts free.
Pretty sure she’s doing exactly what I did Friday—tempting me down those stairs with my favourite treats.
I tap my finger against the side of the phone.
I know I need to go down there and deal with the fallout, accept that she’s a different person than who I used to know.
Hell, I should spend however long she’s here getting to know the woman she became. Because she might not be my Hendrix, but she is still Hendrix.
I type out a reply.
Hmm, nothing I don’t already have right here in my flat
Do you also have a four-cheese pizza from Tony’s?
Given Tony’s is over three hours away I think you know my answer to that
Sucks to be you then
She sends a picture of a pizza box from my favourite takeaway back home.
Turns out if you have friends and a bit of cash you can get just about anything delivered to your door these days
There’s no way that isn’t cold
Just came out of the oven ten minutes ago
I’m shoving my feet into my Vans when my phone buzzes again.
Check mate Rock Star
See you in 5 ;)
Hendrix is sitting on the lounge floor, cross-legged, two pencils tucked into the bun holding her hair out of her face, the promised pizza steaming next to her.
“How the fuck did you get a Tony’s pizza to London?” I ask.
She taps her nose. “Can’t let you in on all my secrets. How else am I supposed to bribe you into coming down here and doing some work with me?”
I drop down the carpet and tug the box closer. “You actually want to work with me?”
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” She zeros in on the melted cheese when I pull a slice free. “Look, I didn’t speak right the other day.”
“It’s fi—”
“Just let me get this out, please.”
I nod and bite down on the pizza to chase away the lead sinking in my gut.
“I made it sound like I was doing you this huge favour by being here.” She exhales slowly, fingers splaying against the carpet.
“That’s not true. If anything, you’re doing me a favour.
I’d forgotten what it felt like to be passionate about writing.
About producing. About anything. After university, I lost myself. I stopped chasing. I just… settled.”
The air thickens around me.
Grease pools on my fingertips as my grip tightens on the slice I’m holding.
“I tucked everything that made me me away in those boxes.” She jerks her thumb over her shoulder, and my eyes widen at the tower of cardboard leaning against the wall.
“I let myself forget what it felt like to dream.” Her voice drops, thick and husky as her lips tug down. “But then you came along again, with all these big ideas about a new album, and suddenly… I remembered.”
I drop the pizza as my fingers tremble.
“I wrote a new song Friday,” she tells me, her nose crinkling adorably as if embarrassed of all she’s just said. “It’s yours if you want it. Heart Torn too, whenever you’re ready to hear it. It was always yours, I just wasn’t ready to let it go before.”
A bead of sweat rolls down my nape. “And now?”
She beams, her eyes glitter, her cheeks round, and fucking fireworks explode throughout my veins.
“Why don’t you go find out?” She tips her head in the direction of the boxes.
I push up onto shaky knees and shuffle across the floor.
The first box I pull down is lighter than I expect.
I peel back the lid, my chest thumping when I get a good look at what’s inside.
I pull out a worn, aged festival wristband.
My brows rocket upward. “Is this the one where Ax threw his bass in the puddle?”
Hendrix chuckles. “Yeah, that’s the one.”
I hear her move closer.
Then her fingers brush mine as she digs through the box.
She pulls out a photo and waves it in front of my face. “And this was the time you threw a fit because they told you not to swear on stage.”
I snatch the picture and laugh. “Why did I let Ax talk me into red highlights?”
Hendrix hums, noncommittal as she glances at me. “I thought you were cute back then.”
“You were biased.”
She shrugs, a smile on her face as she lifts a wad of pictures out and spreads them across the floor.
She leans over them before pointing at an old one of Saint in year twelve with a spectacular bleach blond buzzcut. “Now that was a bad idea.”
I shake my head and roll my lips. “God, that was the day he strolled up to Theo in the lunchroom and asked if she loved his new hair.”
“He really thought she’d be into it because he’d overheard her talking about how fit she found Eminem in the Stan music video.”
“Man. What a time to be alive.” I flick through all the pictures, my grin widening with each one. “I’d forgotten about half this stuff.”
She shoves another box in front of me.
All my old notebooks sit inside, all her notebooks, all ours.
“You kept everything?”
“Uh-uh.” She sucks in her lip stud. “I told you, I wasn’t ready to let go, Rock Star.”
My jaw slackens as I flick through the first notebook in the hefty pile.
There are hundreds of unused songs living in these pages. Every emotion we felt, every word we said to one another, lives right there, in the black book sitting in my hands.
I look up, the room blurring around me until the only thing I see is her.
“Cole, I—”
“You want to go do something today?” I blurt, before I can think better of it. I consider taking it back, but then she looks up at me, her lips twitching and I don’t. “Just you and me?”
She breathes a laugh. “Are we not already doing something today? Kinda why I’m here. You know, music, work, songs?”
I jump up, my bones feeling lighter than they have in years.
Her gaze is locked on me as I rush around the room, gathering my keys, my jacket, Hendrix’s phone, and her coat.
She chuckles as I drag the door open. “What are you doing?”
“Come on, Rixie. What do you say?” I hold a ring adorned, tattooed hand out to her. “You wanna play hooky with me?”