Page 22 of Strum Me

“Brad...” I say again, because I can’t quite seem to find any other words.

He lowers his head and for a moment, I almost let myself believe that we can do this. That we can kiss and it be nothing. That it doesn’t carry the weight of the past. But we can’t.

“Brad!” I say again, this time firmly and pushing him away. The room is so tiny, his back slams against the door.

“Ow!” he cries out. his hand instantly reaching around to feel the wound.

“Shit! I’m sorry!” I cringe, biting my tongue to stop me from running my hands along his back to check if he’s okay.

“It’s okay. It didn’t hurt.”

“No, I mean...I’m sorry, we can’t do that. We can’t, Brad. It’s too...it’s just too much. I can’t do this if I’m worrying that you’re going to be trying to kiss me at every turn.”

“Okay, well, that hurt.” His shoulders drop, like a deflated balloon.

I can’t help but let out a little laugh. Same old Brad.

He comes over and sits next to me on the bed and I don’t move when he put his hand on mine. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I really can’t believe it either.”

“And yet, we can’t talk about what happened...?”

The bed shakes along with the shakes of the head.

“And we can’t...”

“We can’t anything. I’m serious.” I take a deep breath and force myself to look at him. I need him to know I mean what I’m about to say. “I need this job, and I need this story to be good. I need this opportunity. And I need you to not fuck it up for me. Please. Do this for me.” I don’t know it, but I squeeze his hand with every word.

He doesn’t move. Not even to squeeze my hand back. He just nods, and says, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Of course, ‘okay.’ If it means that much to you, then I won’t do anything to jeopardize it.”

“Thank you, Brad.” I squeeze his hand again. This time on purpose.

“No problem.”

We sit there in silence for a moment. I can’t say what he is thinking, but I know that my thoughts aren’t of this time, or of this place, but of eight years before. And what could’ve been.

It’s minutes before either of us speak again. And when we do, it’s Brad who breaks the silence. “You know, I know you don’t want to talk about what happened—”

“Brad...” My voice is soft but firm.

He pulls his hand away from mine and presses his index fingers against my lips. “Shut up for once and let me finish.”

“Sorry.” His hand falls back onto the bed and my eyes involuntarily follow.

“Look, I don’t know what it is you’re feeling toward me, toward us. But it doesn’t change the fact that all I want is for you to be happy. It’s what I’ve always wanted. Always. Whether you’re working with us or not. I just thought I should say that. I didn’t ever think I’d get this chance to say it, so I am now.”

And I believe him. And from the look on his face, he knows I do. I just can’t open my mouth to tell him I feel the same way about him.

He doesn’t give me the chance to try, though. Propelling himself off the bed, he slides open my bedroom door and bellows. “Okay! Let’s get this show on the road! First stop, Cambridge, baby!”

He gives me a wink and one last long look before storming down the bus, leaving me to wonder.