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"Shit, sorry. I don't want to pry. Well, I guess I do, a little. Art is supposed to force you to reach for all those things you'd rather keep secret." Her voice is soft but not apologetic. "What's that quote? Something about how writing is easy—you just bleed on the page."
"Something like that." I shouldn't move closer. I do it anyway. I let my knee brush against hers.
She shifts towards my leg. It's an unconscious gesture.
Her body wants mine.
"I'm not a writer. Well, not a good one. You should see my screenplays from college. Or my poems." Her cheeks flush. "Actually, don't see them. They're horrible. But I don't think writing is different from filmmaking at its core. It's another way of expressing an idea. And the Mal on the album—let's call him the character of the narrator."
"You really think that?"
"No. But that's the literary criticism way to think of it."
I shake my head. "It's bullshit. Call him Mal."
"Okay. Well, the Mal on the album, he has this longing. This need to connect. Do you think he wants to fall in love?"
"He wants to take care of someone."
She nods. "And the rest?"
I try to push my feelings aside. I try to look at the songs as if I'm not the person who wrote them. But I can't. Those songs are my blood and guts. I can't ask if he wants to fall in love.
The question stands.
Do I want to fall in love?
I don't fucking know. But I don't back away from this kind of thing.
I look back at Lacey. "Deep down, doesn't everyone?"
Her eyes light up with an idea. "Yeah. Deep down." She looks back to the screen. "Look at me. I just ended a four-year relationship. I left him,
but it still hurts. He's not my best friend anymore. I don't live in my apartment anymore. My friends are pissed at me for hurting him, because they don't get it, and I won't tell them. My life is fucking topsy-turvy. Consciously, I don't want to fall in love. But deep down… I still crave that connection, that safety, that warm feeling in my chest. Everyone must want love, deep down, or else pop music wouldn't exist."
"You miss him?"
"Adam?" She looks up at me. "Yeah, I do. But then… He got the worse end of it. I had to go to his place to get my camera."
"You don't need your camera for this."
She clears her throat. "Not technically."
"You wanted an excuse to see him."
"No." She presses her lips together. "Maybe."
"You're worried about him?"
"I guess. It was weird… like I was a ghost visiting my old life. But that was nothing compared to that look in his eyes. I broke his heart. I blindsided him."
"That's on him then."
"How?"
"Relationships never end abruptly. Especially not long ones. I bet the break up was in the back of your mind for a while."
"You have a lot of experience ending long relationships?"
