8. Luke
8
LUKE
T hat move of Cameron’s, that moment, it takes me right back to a place I don’t want to go. Ever. I’m shaking a bit when I get to my bike and I know I shouldn’t ride just yet, no matter how badly I want to escape.
Of course, Daph doesn’t miss a thing.
To be honest, I was kind of hoping she’d follow. I can trust her. I can talk to her.
I can admit that things are not okay, just to her.
And I’ve been missing her all day, missing her something fierce. It’s another reason I’m off-kilter. Things are out of balance between us and I came here tonight to make it right. I didn’t expect her to have company. I didn’t expect to have to wait even longer to talk to her.
I know that’s unreasonable. Of course, she has a life. It would be nice if I didn’t keep making the wrong choice around Daph. It might give me a snowball’s chance.
She stops behind me without saying anything, but I feel her presence. I know she’s watching me and I like my conviction that she’ll wait.
It’s good to have someone to count on again, even if it’s just for this moment.
“Sorry I didn’t appreciate the joke,” I say without turning.
“Not very long ago, you might have found it funny.”
I nod, my throat tight. “Times change.”
“Is that yours? I didn’t know.” Her tone is light, teasing even, but I don’t turn. “What else is wrong, Luke?”
I spin then, surprised but not surprised that she’s asking. The light from the house is behind her, so she’s in silhouette, her face in shadows. I hate that I can’t see her eyes. Her tone is gentle though, understanding even. “The last time that happened was at that last show, and you’d be right in thinking that I loved it. Then.”
“But now?”
“Everything’s gone. It’s all gone,” I admit, and the beat of silence tells me she doesn’t understand.
“Taylor? The band?”
“Everything, Daph. Not just Taylor. Not just the band. Not just the fame and the revenue. The music is gone, too. I haven’t sung since that last show. I haven’t written a song in a year and a half. The music used to be with me all the time. I had my own soundtrack, playing all the time in my thoughts, and now—” I put out my hands. “Crickets.”
She waits. I see her fold her arms across her chest, but she’s listening.
I stare at the ground and say it. “I’m broken, Daph.”
I sense her nod and risk a glance her way. She hasn’t moved and I still can’t read her expression. Her tone is even softer, though, when she speaks. “Are you okay to drive?”
“More or less. The motel’s not far.”
“Leave the bike,” she suggests. “Come back for it in the morning.”
“I don’t want it to be in your way.”
“It won’t be. Tomorrow I’m going to borrow Dad’s car to drive to Toronto.”
I take a breath. “But someone will see.”
I hear the smile in her voice. “And they’ll all think I’m getting some action. Of course, they probably already think that but we both know how wrong they are.”
There’s something in her tone, something a little raw, and I realize that I’ve hurt her feelings. How? By wanting more than a night? “I hate small towns,” I say, though that’s not what I’m thinking. I’m wondering if I’ve screwed up completely.
“It’s kind of sweet when you think about it. People looking out for each other.”
I peer at her shadowed features. “You’re way nicer than I am.”
She laughs and that’s got to be a good sign. “Maybe I’m having a moment.”
I take a chance and ask what I’ve been wondering all day. “Tell me you aren’t insulted that I stepped away last night.”
She bristles, proof that she is.
“More,” she echoes, mustering her inner ice queen so quickly that I know I’ve made a big mistake.
“Yes, more. Not more than you. More with you.” She’s startled. I reach out and snag her hand. “I don’t want something quick, Daph. I want you, you have to know it, but for the first time ever, I want more.”
“More?” This time, the word is less charged, a sign of progress.
“More than once. More than sex. More than one-and-done.” I gesture vaguely. “I don’t know how it works. I don’t have a map, but I don’t want to ruin everything.” I squeeze her fingers, just a little. “But don’t imagine for one minute that I don’t want you with all my heart and soul, because I do.”
She’s quiet for a long time and I feel her studying me closely. I wonder what the verdict will be, and know that if she sends me away, I’ll go, just because it’s what she wants. Have I ever given anyone that much power over my choices? No, but it feels exactly right.
I trust her.
Completely.
And there’s something magical about having said the words out loud. I feel like I’ve put down a burden. It could be a first step. I feel like I can be better.
I want to be better.
“What about what I want?” she asks finally.
“Well, that’s going to determine how we go from here.”
“You’ll do whatever I ask?”
I nod and she tilts her head to study me. “I don’t believe you, you know. Guys say whatever they need to in order to get what they want.” I might protest, but she raises a hand. “But it doesn’t matter. I don’t believe in forever anymore either.”
That’s the saddest thing I’ve heard in a long time.
“Bad timing, since I’m just starting to wonder if all the songs are true.”
“Oh Luke,” she says with a sigh and I love the sound of my name on her lips, even when it’s not a shout of joy. “You don’t have to mess with me, or tell me stories.”
“Not a chance.”
“If there’s going to be anything, it has to be honest, no matter how it goes.”
“Of course.” It’s only an increment of what I want to give her, but she’s right. Honesty is a cornerstone.
“No stories, no promises, no nonsense about forever.”
My throat is tight because I can feel now how much that loser hurt her. “If that’s how you want it.”
“There you go,” she says, shaking her head.
“What do you mean?”
“That’s an implication. It sounds like a promise, like you don’t want something that simple.”
“I don’t. I told you.”
“More,” she says under her breath. She’s still wavering, deciding whether to give me another chance.
I wonder if I’m asking for one thing she can’t give.
“Don’t you see, Luke? It’s just words, words that sound good in the moment. Don’t bother with them. I’m done with words, and promises, and lies.”
She was burned. I get it. This Justin Jerk said all the right things but didn’t follow through by doing all the right things.
Actions speak louder than words.
I can own that.
“Just think about it,” I say, and when she doesn’t reply, I kiss her palm. I fold her fingers over the place where my lips touched the softness of her skin, and recognize the power she already has over me.
Daph does something to me, makes me gallant, makes me want to be a better man than I’ve been in the past. I want to make her proud of me, even proud to know me. I want us to be together, but only if she wants to be with me.
I’m ready to earn that, whatever it takes.
And yes, I want to restore her faith in forever.
One step at a time.
Maybe The One is the person you admire so much that you’ll do whatever it takes to make things work between you. Maybe romance isn’t about uncertainty, Oscar, but about putting in the effort to earn the result.
“Good night, Daph,” I say, knowing that once I would have come to her door in the middle of the night after her friends were gone, that once I would have charmed my way inside her house and into her bed, that once I would have made her shout in pleasure—then disappeared by morning.
I’m not that guy anymore.
I don’t want quick satisfaction this time.
I don’t want to vanish.
Our fingers and gazes cling for a long moment, then Cameron’s laugh echoes from the house and I pull away. My equilibrium is restored sufficiently that I don’t want there to be rumours in town about Daph, about us. (I don’t think gossip is sweet.)
So, I start my bike as she steps onto her own porch, wave, and head back to the motel. I’m well aware that she’s standing there watching until I turn the corner and pass out of sight. Like a guardian angel.
Will I sleep?
I don’t think there’s a chance, but I’m wrong. It’s lights out as soon as my head hits the pillow.
The magic happens in the morning, when the sun is rising.
I can hear a stirring in my mind, something that hasn’t been there since Taylor died. I roll to my back and keep my eyes closed, not wanting to spook it.
It’s the faint warble of a melody. It’s not complete. It’s only a bar or two, really, but it’s there . I know it’s too soon to try to capture it. Even as I listen, trying to catch the notes, it flickers and vanishes.
But it was back. A song is elusive and has to ripen in its own time. Not all of them do. But just the fact that I heard it again is a glorious gift.
Maybe Daph’ll be my muse.