And feel what we know.
You say no
You’re afraid to let go
But I see sparks
I see sparks
His voice is low but beautiful. The sound pulls on my heart. If the guitar sounds like home, then his voice sounds like heaven. The song proceeds slowly, Luke is singing out each lyric like he’s saying the words carefully.
The entire time, he keeps his eyes glued to the guitar, focusing on the chords.
The roomful of people is hushed as he sings, their eyes glued to him as he pulls everyone’s attention to the stage.
The emotion that Luke is emanating feels so vivid that I feel like I should look away to respect his privacy. As the song comes to an end and he sings about sparks, I find myself unable to look away, wondering what he means—what this song means for us.
It’s a love song, through and through. Did he write this song himself?
Luke strums his last chord, looking up for the first time. The heavy weight of emotion lifts from the room, and the crowd erupts in applause. Luke looks toward me, his face rawer than I’ve ever seen it.
Was the text message really a joke?
The question runs in my mind over and over. I want to run across the room and jump on the stage with Luke, hoping he catches me in his arms. I want an epic love story where he pulls me against him in a heart-stopping kiss and the crowd of people applaud.
When Luke meets my eyes, he gives me the type of smile that makes my stomach do a flip.
“Give it up for Luke!” the hostess says, coming back on stage.
A worker comes and removes the stool from the stage, and Luke puts the guitar back where he found it.
I have the vague impulse to run away, which feels crazy because the last thing I want is to be away from Luke, but the panic runs strong in me. It reminds me of my first kiss. It was some guy I was dating in high school. He dropped me off at my parents’ house, and I could tell he wanted to kiss me, but instead of leaning into the kiss, I backed up, tripped, and ripped my pants.
Yeah. This panic is feeling pretty similar.
A bundle of nerves builds in me as I try to rehearse in my head what I’ll say to him when he gets back to the table.
Was the text message really a joke?
Did you mean it when you said the song was for me?
Do you love me?
No, not that last one.
I push my food away, playing with my napkin, watching Luke weave between tables.
Do I let him say something first?
“Just wanted to check in to see if you needed anything.” Our waitress comes over, breaking my view of Luke and throwing my thoughts into shambles.
I look down at our meals. Luke’s is still mostly uneaten, and I still have a bit of my meal left, but I’m not hungry anymore.
“Can we get boxes and the check?” I ask.
The woman nods. “Of course. I’ll be right back with those.”
Luke gets back to the table as the waitress leaves, and instead asking any of the questions I’d mentally rehearsed, my confidence disappears the second my eyes meet Luke’s. It’s likeI’m seeing him for the first time. He’s not the boy I grew up with. He’s someone older, more mature. It feels like I’m falling, headlong into a space that terrifies me.
