Page 107 of The Music of Us
My heart thudded behind my ribs like a snare drum’s tattoo as I searched for the curve of numbers on the bottom.
2004.
“This is the same coin I gave you the day you left,” I whispered in amazement. “You kept it? After all this time?”
“Well, you mean a lot to me,” Jake said. Not past tense—present. “I’ve always carried you with me.”
Dozens of Jake’s performances flashed through my mind—when I saw him on theTodayshow. When he performed as an opener at Madison Square Garden. When he sang at his first-ever sold-out show. All over the globe, in and out of concert halls.
I’d been there too.
Happiness filled me at the thought that this coin I’d given Jake eased his stage fright. All this time, I’d still been helping my best friend from half a world away.
Jake stepped closer, reaching out to take the coin from me, except he didn’t retract his hand. His fingers stayed touching mine, not shying away.
I didn’t withdraw from his touch either.
It felt like one of those games we used to play when we were younger and testing each other about who could be bravest the longest, neither of us wanting to be the first to back away. But there was something else now mixed in with the intimate familiarity. Somethingnew, electric and sparkling and sending a shiver down my spine.
It was like how you could hear your favorite song a million times—know it backward and forward—but it still couldn’t compare to being at a concert and hearing it live for the very first time.
We stood so close, I could feel the heat coming off him. So close, I could reach out and put my hand over his heartbeat and feel its melody like he’d felt mine.
Jake’s gaze flickered down to my lips, before heading back up to my eyes, so quick I could’ve missed it. But Ididn’t, and I—
“Jake!” Aspen came barreling in, shouting as he did. “Jake, are you—” He skidded to a stop when he saw me. “Oh, hi, Lucy.”
Leon and Phillip peered in behind him, taking in how close Jake and I were standing.
“Are we interrupting something?” Phillip asked, a Cheshire cat grin on his face.
Jake glared. “You weren’t interrupting anything.” He glanced at me. “Were they?”
Was he genuinely asking, or was this just for show in front of his friends?
“Nothing,” I said, choosing the safest answer.
“See? Nothing,” Jake echoed.
Leon smiled. “Says the guy who cowrote ‘Pants on Fire.’”
Phillip high-fived him.
“But, really, you two, sorry forinterrupting,” Aspen said, sing-songing the last word for emphasis. He made it sound like he caught us in the middle of making out. My face heated. “Can I get you two anything? Some ChapStick?”
Ever so helpfully, Phillip reached into his pocket and pulled out a tin. “Some breath mints?”
“I’m going to kill you two,” Jake muttered. “Was there something you guys wanted?”
“Yeah, we’re on in fifteen.”
“But you still have five minutes,” Leon pointed out. “Which is a lot if you use them well. We can just close the door. Give you two someprivacy.”
“I’m going to kill you too,” Jake decided.
Not feeling the least bit threatened or repentant, the boys beamed before backing out and closing the door.
Their chaotic giggling echoed in from the other side.
