“I think I’m good, thanks.” I smiled. “I appreciate you taking care of the orders, Peg. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“I don’t know, either.” She winked at me. “I’ve got my phone. Text if you need anything.”
I nodded, but really, I was too busy listening to the song to pay much attention to Peg. After the door had closed behind her, I began to tidy the shelves and displays, using my feather duster on the wares. I realized that I was almost dancing between the tables, humming as I worked.
I didn’t know what Nash was up to, but at least I knew that he hadn’t given up on me. Not yet.
And I’d realized that I wasn’t ready to give up on either of us.
Over the next week,Nash sent me song links at regular intervals. I began compiling the titles in a playlist on my music app so that I could listen to them while I drove or when I was alone in the store.
It didn’t take long for me to discover the theme of his list. All of the lyrics spoke of the promise of love, the steadfast vows of a man to a woman who wasn’t sure that she was ready to dive into a new relationship, and the assurance that love could beat any odds.
Nash:Link: Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper
Nash:Link: (I’m Gonna Be) 500 Miles by The Proclaimers
Nash:Link: A Matter of Trust by Billy Joel
Five song links and three days in, I finally answered him, mostly so that he’d know I was receiving his messages and loving each one.
Peyton:Every song you send is making me cry in the best way. The words are beautiful. I keep listening to all of them on a loop. Thank you. <3 I was afraid you were going to give up on me. I’m still not sure about anything, Nash, but I know I don’t want to lose you again.
Nash:Link: Don’t Dream It’s Over by Crowded House
Peyton:Message received.
It was right after that interchange that I had the inspiration to reply to Nash with my own musical messages.
Peyton:Link: Don’t You (Forget About Me) by Simple Minds
Nash:Link: Against All Odds by Phil Collins
Peyton:Link: You’re the Inspiration by Chicago <3
Nash:Link: This Night by Billy Joel
That last song link made my breath catch. An old memory that I hadn’t thought of for decades sprang to mind: it was the fall of our junior year, and I was on the homecoming committee, helping to construct the floats that would drive down Beach Street before the big football game. It was late, and I was a little punchy and maybe just a little tipsy from the wine Emmy had snuck in, giggling with my girlfriends as we stuffed tiny bits of tissue paper into chicken wire formed in the shape of a shark.
I’d turned my head, and there in the doorway of the gym, Nash was standing, leaning on the doorjamb, watching us. Emboldened by either the hour or the wine, I’d gone over to talk with him.
I remembered suddenly being hyperaware of Nash as more than just a casual friend. He hadn’t moved as I had approached, but the way his eyes had followed me, the heat and the thinly veiled desire, had sent a shiver down my spine.
I had kept moving until I was inches from him, forced to look up into his face.
“Did you come to help with the float?” I’d asked, my voice low and somehow intimate.
Nash shook his head. “I’m working with Mr. Evans on a physics project—something that will look good on my college applications. We went late tonight, and I heard voices as I was leaving . . .” He trailed off.
“You should come over. Twisting up tissue paper is so much fun.” I was almost to the point of brushing my body across his. Almost, but not quite.
“I don’t think so.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to hang out with any of them.”
“Okay.” I paused, and just then, the music that had been blaring from the boombox someone had brought changed from Van Halen to Billy Joel, singingThis Night.
I had smiled up at Nash. “I love this one. It’s my favorite Billy Joel song.”
Nash’s gaze had dipped to my mouth, and in reaction, my tongue darted out to swipe over my lips. His eyes flared.
