13
Valentina
There’s nothing wrong with you.
God, how much I wish that were the truth. But he’ll never know the truth.
I need to change the subject before I spill even more than I should.
“Speaking of girlfriends,” I say, tugging him along behind me. “First dates usually consist of asking each other some questions to get to know one another.”
“Don’t most people see a movie on their first date? How do you talk to each other during that?”
We maneuver around a group of teenagers who are a little bit rowdy. One of them gestures, nearly slapping me in the face. I duck out of the way, pulling Huxley with me.
“How do we talk to each other during all this?” I laugh as I squeeze past another couple.
Huxley lets go of my hand and walks around the couple who were too focused on each other to know they split us apart. “The day I decide to bring you here, and this place is packed to the brim.”
I bump into a woman, letting Huxley catch my hips to maneuver me away from her.
“Sorry,” I call back to her, but she’s already moving on.
Huxley continues to guide me until we’re in a less crowded area. And it’s then that I realize I didn’t even flinch from his hands on me. Thank god for chaos, I guess.
He pushes my hips to make me face him. “You okay?” he asks with amusement in his eyes.
I smile brightly up at him, barely able to contain a laugh. “All good.”
“Good.” He smiles back and reaches for my hand again as we continue through the museum.
“By the way,” I say, bringing us back to our previous conversation. “It’s actually dinner and a movie. You talk while you eat, then watch a movie. Or watch a movie and then go to dinner. One of the two.”
“It’s stupid.”
“Is that why we’re here?” I gesture around at all the music memorabilia surrounding us. I never knew a place like this existed, but it makes perfect sense that Huxley found it.
The entire time we’ve been here, Huxley’s eyes have been more alight than I’ve ever seen them. I always knew he wanted to be a famous singer, but this is the first time I’ve really seen his passion for music.
When he sings, he gives his all. But this place showcases the music that shaped him, and it’s a roadmap for the journey he wants to take. Even though I don’t see any artists from the past few decades hanging up in here, I know that one day he will have his own record to hang on these walls.
I almost feel like I shouldn’t be here since I don’t really know any of these artists. Like I don’t deserve to be in the presence of such items.
I feel like an ant in a colony of bees. Everyone’s excitement buzzing while I try not to get stepped on from being somewhere I shouldn’t be.
A sly smile creeps onto Huxley’s face. “Sort of. But there’s also another reason. Something that I just couldn’t pass up.”
My eyebrows shoot up my forehead. “And what’s that?”
“A secret,” he whispers, adding a wink afterward.
“Wonderful,” I say dryly, but a smile pushes through.
We come across a new group I’ve never heard of—Joan Jett & The Blackhearts. Out of all the groups here, this is the one I can see myself getting behind. Mainly because she’s a woman in the rock and roll world, and I haven’t seen too many of them. Kind of a shame if you ask me.
“So. When’s your birthday?” Huxley suddenly asks.
I go to answer, but a quick thought runs through my head, and I go with it. “February 14th.”
He glares at me, skeptical. “You’re lying.”
I lean closer to him, teasingly. “Am I?”
His eyes narrow, holding my focus as he pinches my arm. I yelp louder than I should, and a few people turn in our direction. Huxley pulls me close to his chest while he tries not to laugh.
“Sorry. She just really loves Guns N’ Roses,” Huxley says to our onlookers. They turn away as if that’s an understandable reason for my outburst.
I tilt my head up at him. “I’m a fan of roses, sure. But not a big fan of guns.”
His eyes widen. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
“About what?” I try—and fail—to hide my smile.
Huxley glares with no heat behind it and pinches my arm again. This time, I pull myself closer to his chest.
“Hilarious.”
I shrug. “Technically, I don’t really know who Guns N’ Roses are, but it was still fun to mess with you.”
He shakes his head in disbelief, but a smile spreads across his face. His arms wrap around me, keeping me close in a hug.
I don’t remember the last time I hugged someone. I’m sure it hasn’t been that long. I’ve surely hugged Birdie and Ava at some point recently.
No wait. The last person I hugged was Will. And that was… Fuck. 10 months? Is that normal?
“So when’s your actual birthday?”
Huxley’s voice pulls me back to the present. “April 9th.”
“Just in time for our deal.”
Don’t react. Keep the conversation going. Fuck, why did he have to say that?
“When’s yours?” I ask, stepping out of his hold. Immediately, I miss his warmth, and I want his arms wrapped around me again.
No, you don’t.
“Sorry, babe. You’re going to miss celebrating mine. It’s July 20th.”
My face scrunches. “Did you just call me babe?”
Huxley freezes. “Yeah?”
“If we’re using pet names, that one’s out.”
He relaxes at my words, and his easy smile comes back. “No babe. Got it. What do you like then?”
I try to think of other terms of endearment that I’ve heard before, but for some reason, babe is the only one coming to my mind. “What else do people use?”
Huxley reaches up and tucks a stray hair behind my ear, his hand gently resting on my cheek.
“Tell you what,” he says softly, “I’ll randomly call you different pet names, and you tell me which ones you like and don’t like. Sound good?”
I smile up at him. “Sounds good.”
He nods, his hand slipping from my hair to grab my hand again. “Let’s continue, Princess.”
“No. God no. Never.”
Huxley laughs, and we continue making our way through the museum.
We walk for a moment in comfortable silence before Huxley asks, “So if you don’t think you’re any good at art, what is it you actually want to do, Sweetheart?”
I mull over that name. “I don’t know if it was just in that context, but I’m not a fan of Sweetheart.”
“Noted.”
I glance over random items again, trying to ignore his question, but I feel his eyes still on me, waiting for an answer. One I don’t want to give.
“So?” he drawls, giving me no choice but to answer.
“I don’t really know anymore,” I shrug. “I thought I did. I thought I had my whole life figured out.”
At one point in my life, I thought I would be a doctor like my parents. I thought I would go through all my years of college, always graduating with honors, and then live the rest of my life saving other people. But that all went away when I couldn’t even save the person I needed to the most.
“How come you don’t anymore?”
I shrug, but the action almost hurts after what I say with it. “It seemed like one bad thing happened after another, and I just don’t know who I am anymore.”
“What kind of bad things?”
My hand squeezes his before I realize what I’m doing. I quickly pull him over to a display case as if that was my intention.
“Things I’ll tell you later.”
Maybe.
My eyes travel to a display case with a guitar inside. A smile lifts on my lips at the memory of when we met.
“What about you? Do you still have the same dreams, Mr. Music Major?”
He laughs weakly, shrugging. “Sort of.”
I stare at him in shock. “Why sort of? You heard Professor Owen back then. You have a bright future ahead of you with music. Why wouldn’t you pursue it?”
He shrugs again, but this one is sadder.
“I don’t know,” he says on a sigh, his voice defeated. “I guess after a while, I started to try and think more practically or realistically. Now, the only thing that seems possible is switching my major and going into finance or some shit.”
The idea of Huxley Adams not going into music is the equivalent of my brother not being married to JJ. The idea of Huxley Adams not living his dream is the same thing as soulmates not being together. That’s how wrong all of this is.
But he didn’t push me to talk about my past. So I won’t push him on this.
“Are you good at math?” I ask, playing along.
“The last math class I took, I passed by point 1%.” He mimes the decimal and the one, but they’re backwards. I smile and grab his hands, moving them so they’re in the right position. He looks at his hands and then rolls his eyes, dropping his hands in the process.
I stare at him for a moment, trying to imagine him as an accountant or someone sitting behind a desk in general. But the picture doesn’t form in my mind.
“That’s not you.”
“Oh, trust me, I’ve been bad at math my whole life.”
I shake my head, taking the slightest step closer to him. “No, I mean, you don’t seem like the person who wouldn’t take a risk.”
I squeeze his hand again, trying to find the right words to explain myself, which is increasingly harder with him staring at me.
“You’re like my brother,” I finally say.
“Things don’t scare you. And when they do, you run head-on into the flames.
” I lift my other hand, grabbing his shirt, needing him to hear me.
“Who cares about practicality or reality? I’ve heard you play before, Huxley.
You’re amazing, and you shouldn’t give up on your dreams because it’s not what other people think will work. ”
He stares at me but doesn’t say anything, making my heart race a bit faster.
Then he takes a step closer, sending my heart into overdrive.
His eyes move over my face like he’s trying to take me into his mind and remember me.
I don’t know why he’d do that, but it feels good to be seen by Huxley Adams. Even for just a moment.
“You’re nothing that I thought you’d be, Valentina.” His voice is low and soft, and my heart tries to jump out of my chest. Him calling me Valentina is still something I have to get used to. But honestly, I hope I never do. Because I’m starting to like this feeling.
I let go of his shirt, slowly sliding my hand up his chest. He pulls in a deep breath, and I feel his heart beat a little faster. “I hope that’s not a bad thing,” I whisper, unable to make my voice any louder.
His hand slips over my waist, pulling me even closer. “It’s not,” he whispers back.
His eyes fall to my lips, stealing my breath away instantly. Is he going to kiss me? Right here? Am I ready for that?
Fuck yes.
“That reminds me.” His eyes are still on my lips, and I feel my body shake with anticipation.
“What?” I barely breathe out.
“We need to talk about your firsts.”
I snap back to reality and slightly lean back from him. “My what?”
He smiles and pulls me behind him, dragging me further into the museum.