Page 94 of The Music of Us
“What?” I asked, smiling in confusion at the way his eyes lit up. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing, it’s just that you have a way of putting things so clearly,” Jake said. “I get tangled up in thought sometimes. But you jump straight to the heart of everything. You always have.” He shook his head fondly. “You cut though all the noise in my head, like the in-ears we use at our concerts to hear ourselves over all the feedback from the speakers and shouts from the crowd.” He paused, locking eyes with me. “I’ve always admired that about you.”
My cheeks warmed, and I ducked my head down, busying myself with petting Bunny so Jake wouldn’t see the twin roses blooming on my cheeks.
“You said you were experimenting with different things,” I said, clearing my throat. “What are you experimenting with now?”
“Oh, well, lately, it’s been different tempos.”
“Tempo. That’s the pacing, right?” I nodded down at his boots. “You tap your foot when you’re playing, sometimes.”
Jake nodded. “The tempo’s the heartbeat of a song. Literally and metaphorically. Even dance songs played in a club can mimic a dancing person’s heartbeats per minute.”
Intrigued, I laid my left wrist in my right hand, then pressed my right thumb down hard against my skin, trying to pinpoint my pulse. I couldn’t get a good feel for the beat.
“Here,” Jake said, standing up and reaching over. “Like this.”
He brought one of his hands up under mine, cradling the back of my hand in the curve of his palm.
With his other hand, Jake traced the path of my veins, his touch feather light and flush with heat. Desperately, I tried to control a shiver that threatened to chase after the brush of his fingers.
“Your thumb has its own pulse,” Jake explained as his hand settled over the tender center of my wrist. “You can’t use it for this.”
“Oh?” was all I could get out.
“Almost...” His brow furrowed slightly in concentration as my heartbeat rose beneath his fingers. “There, that’s it.”
Taking my free hand, Jake moved my fingers over my pulse in place of his, so I could feel the beat.
I should’ve been asking questions, or paying closer attention to the music lesson. Singing sensation and songwriter Jake Moody was giving me a beginner’s taste of music theory, after all. But focus seemed impossible with him so close.
We were both leaning in, our breath mingling, and our heads bent together, nearly touching. For a moment, it was like the universe had shrunk down to just the size of us.
I let my gaze flicker up to Jake’s face while his stare stayed fixed on my wrist. A breath closer and he’d be out of focus. But at the moment, he was crystal clear. My eyes roamed over his face, drinking him in: The full curve of his bottom lip. The freckle on the bridge of his nose. The way his lashes fanned out so far, they cast delicate shadows that slipped over the edge of his cheekbones.
“That would be the rhythm,” Jake said, nodding down to where he held my hand steadily over my heartbeat. “That’s what I start with.”
Breathe, Lucy. Breathe.“What comes next?”
“Then I layer chords over it. Like...” He frowned for a moment, like he was at a loss for words. Funny, seeing that in a lyricist. But then, Jake always said he understood the world better through music. “Hold on, it’s easier to show you.”
Leaving the technicalities unspoken, Jake slid two of his fingers next to mine on my wrist, feeling for the rhythm once more. After a moment, he hummed softly, demonstrating how the melody settled over the tempo of my pulse.
My body went completely still, spellbound by his voice. It was sweet and smooth, like a sugar cube melting on your tongue, or rich, golden honey slowly spilling out of a jar. I nearly stopped breathing just to hear him better.
All too soon, Jake stopped humming, the song fading away on his lips.
“Lucy?” he asked, concern creeping into his voice as he met my gaze. “Are you okay? Your heart’s going kind of fast.”
Of course it is. Because I’m facing the fact a little more every day that I never got over you, not really. And I like the new you too.
But wanting something didn’t mean it was smart to go after it.
For a moment, it was like we were both waiting for something to happen. The air in the slim space between us felt heavy, charged with anticipation. It was like the sky the second before it begins to storm, when electricity crackles in the air. It was the kind of feeling you get when something’s so close you can feel it in your bones and almost taste it on your tongue.
Jake leaned forward. It was only a millimeter. Just a touch. But it wasenough, and—
Something thudded in the café, the noise reverberating on the tile and sounding as loud as a roll of thunder in the quiet.
