Page 67 of Shapes of Love
Her words land like a slap. Mia was there when I broke Kai’s heart. She was there to pick up the pieces of our mess. I don’t want to fuck things up again. Maybe she’s right. Either we’re friends or we’re in love, and everything else exists only in my imagination.
I meet some of Mia’s girlfriends when I walk her to class the next day. They’re all so nice and wicked smart. Some ask for autographs and pictures. Others look surprised that Mia hadn’t told them she knew me, and Mia acts coy throughout the whole thing, hiding her face behind her hair. It’s cute.
She has two lectures back-to-back, so we agree to meet after she’s done to go for a walk in Central Park, since she’ll be tired.
I want to explore New York by myself for a couple of hours, so I buy myself a chocolate croissant to munch on, ready to check out some museums and maybe try the ice skating rink, when a familiar song comes into earshot from the other side of the street. There, by the sidewalk, two girls in their twenties are singing “Summer Blues” as a duet. One of them plays guitar while her friend harmonizes with her. A crowd of people has gathered around them, nodding along to my song. I weave my way to the front and listen for a moment, impressed by the twist they’ve given it—slower, more ballad-like, letting the guitar shine through. They have amazing voices, and they seem to be having so much fun. Asign beside them readsHI!WE’RE FLOWERS IN THE SNOW. IF YOU LIKE OUR COVERS, PLEASE CONSIDER TIPPING US AND FOLLOWING OUR SOCIALS. THANK YOU!
I’m reaching into my pocket to pull out my phone when a gasp erupts from beside me.
“Oh my God, it’s Sassy!” a guy yells. The crowd’s attention turns to me, interrupting the performance.
“Um… hi?” I stiffen, because, fuck, I don’t want to ruin the moment. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“Oh my God.” One of the singers, the shorter one with red hair, turns to me, then her friend, her eyes widening. “We love you. Don’t be sorry. It’s your song we’re covering… Wait, um, would you like to join us?”
The other singer smiles and offers me her mic.
“Would that be okay?” My heart flutters as I hesitantly take the mic. “I’m fine just listening.”
“No, please, we’d love to sing with you.”
The crowd thickens in a matter of seconds, and people pull out their phones to record, but I can’t bring myself to care. As the music starts again, a tingling sensation runs down my arms and legs, and I get lost in the joy of performing, singing with two people I’ve never met. And it’s weird because, somehow, I feel like I know them—or they know me, I’m not sure. But our souls understand each other.
“Come on, everyone, do you know this one?” I walk toward the crowd, prompting them to sing with us. A little kid pulls at his grandpa’s sleeve, and they both mumble lyrics into the mic. A couple in their fifties starts dancing together, and everyone cheers them on. The way everyone sings along,kids and adults alike, is magical. It’s crazy to think that my music has the power to bring everyone together like this, even if it’s for a moment.
We end up singing a few more songs before stopping for a water break. It’s getting late, and the crowd has dispersed a little.
“I just realized I don’t know your names! Or your pronouns!” I say when the two singers pass me a water bottle. “You are so good.”
“Thank you! I’m María, she/her, and this is Zoya, she/they.” María rakes her fingers through her hair, catching her breath as she gulps her water with shaky hands. “You’re, like, my favorite singer. I’m actually freaking out right now. I cannot believe you just sprang up out of nowhere.”
“I’m the one who should be thanking you for letting me join. I was so drawn to your performance. How did you start your band?”
“We actually met thanks to you?” Zoya gives a shy smile, tucking their long hair behind their ears. “We’re both part of Sasha Nation and ended up becoming mutuals.”
“Yeah, then we met in real life at a listening party and became friends and bandmates. Your music inspires us so much.”
A knot forms in my throat. The fact that people get together to listen to my songs feels so surreal. Or that two best friends found each other thanks to something I created.
“I… Thank you. I don’t know what to say.” Marissa said that my music wasn’t about me, it was about getting people to pay attention to me. But here I am with María and Zoya,who seem to like my music for what it is, and the sense of community it brings them.
That’s all I want really. To have my music make people as happy as it makes me.
By the time we say goodbye, I have to run back to Mia’s apartment. A smile takes over my face as I ride the elevator, and I’m fully grinning by the time I knock on her door.
Today wasthe bestday. I can’t wait to tell her—
“Hey, nice to meet you,” a deep, husky voice says. I stiffen, drawing my gaze up. Before me stands a dude with piercing blue eyes, smiling down at me like we’ve met before. There’s something familiar about his face, but I can’t place him.
I look to either side of the hallway, but it’s empty. Shit, did I knock on the wrong door?
“You’re back! I hope you don’t mind. Jason wanted to join us.” Mia emerges from inside the apartment, placing her hand on the small of the guy’s back.
Jason? My eyes flicker between them. A profile picture materializes in my head. Shit, this is Mia’s situationship. He’s taller than I imagined, less muscular, and I guess he’d be considered pretty if you’re into dudes who mew in their sleep.
“I hope you don’t mind the change of plans.” She looks at Jason when she says that, as if the question was intended for him, not me.
A prickle of annoyance travels through me, the elation from my adventure downtown suddenly fading. I smile and shake my head. I want to meet him if he’s important to Mia; I just wish she would’ve told me. I’m only here for two more days.
