He stroked my hair and levelled me with a sincere look. “Reya, I could never, ever hate you. Not in a million years. It pains me to think of how careless I was with you back then. If I hadn’t been so messed up I swear I would’ve treated you like a princess. You had every right to break things off.”
Emotion pricked at me hearing his tenderly spoken words and I snuggled closer. He continued stroking my hair, his hand dropping down to intermittently rub my back. My hands wandered across his shoulders and down to rest at the base of his spine. I thought I felt him shudder but I couldn’t be certain. We stayed like that for what seemed like forever and it was nice to just be held. Touched.
“Have you been writing any new songs lately?” Trev asked, his uninjured hand twisting through my wavy hair.
“One or two.”
“Can I hear something?”
My pulse quickened, because the only song I’d halfway finished writing since I came on this trip was about him. Still, there was something about the moment we shared that made me want to open up.
“I’ll need to set up my keyboard,” I said, shifting out of his hold.
He smiled, the sexy dimples in his cheeks deepening. “I’m not going anywhere.”
A few minutes later we were in Leanne’s and my bedroom. I sat by my keyboard while Trev arranged my pillows to his liking. Once he was comfortable, I played a little tune, but it wasn’t the song I intended. I was stalling, for obvious reasons.
“This song isn’t finished yet. It still needs a few more verses, but it’s, um, well, it’s actually about you.”
“What’s it called?” he asked, slightly hoarse.
I worried my lip and answered, “Hearts on Air.”
His expression showed the tiniest hint of surprise as he leaned back into the pillows, his posture relaxing. It really wasn’t fair how pretty he was. “Sing it for me.”
I shut my eyes, took a deep breath, and played the opening chords. I was so nervous I messed them up and had to start over again. I could imagine Trev’s encouraging, tender smile, which only made me more flustered. Finally, I pulled myself together and sang.
If the violin is a voice
Then the drums are a heart
And the piano is my body and soul
If the air is a street
Then the clouds are a path
And your feet so easily close the distance
You walk on air like it’s concrete
My heart’s on air like it’s incomplete
Then you leap and it’s like I have no breath
I made the mistake of opening my eyes just as I finished the first chorus. Trev sat upright, his attention rapt, his gaze relentless and full of heat. My breath caught and my heart thrummed. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to fall into his arms and taste his skin, run my hands along every inch of him. I. Wanted. Him. The desire was so strong it was jarring. I stopped playing abruptly and stood, almost knocking over the keyboard stand in the process. My hands shook as I ran them through my hair.
“Trev, I . . . ” I saw hope in his expression, which only confused me further. My heart’s on air like it’s incomplete. Was it foolish to sing those words to him? Was I foolish to think something permanent could happen between us when we hadn’t survived the first time?
I thought that was what was holding me back. But with him in my room, our privacy assured, I didn’t trust myself to not fall into his arms and beg him to keep me there. That wasn’t fair to me or to him. We both deserved more than that.
“Reya,” Trev climbed off the bed and grabbed my wrist. “What’s wrong?”
“Do you mind if I go for a walk for a while?” I asked, not meeting his eyes, not really needing permission either. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Trev. I just . . . need to get out for a bit.”
Otherwise I won’t be able to keep my hands off you.
He blew out a breath, his expression understanding. “No, sure. Go ahead.”
Finally, I looked up. He must’ve seen something in my face because he dropped my hand. I didn’t wait for him to say anything else as I left. I hoped he would understand I wasn’t running, but was processing. Thinking. Daring to hope.
I walked for hours. The city was beautiful and I could’ve explored forever if it weren’t for my stupid feet getting blisters. My heart pounded like I’d just climbed a mountain, but it wasn’t from the walking, it was from the conflicting thoughts running wild inside my head.
I wanted to be with Trev.
I wanted him so bad my skin felt too tight for my body and my lungs constantly ached.
How had I so willingly let myself sink back to square one? I couldn’t even say I had blinders on, because I’d been through it all with Trev so many times before and I knew exactly what I was getting into. The fall with him was always so pleasurable, so exhilarating, that it was almost impossible to resist. You didn’t care about all the precious veins you were destroying as you stuck the needle in your arm, because the high was too good, the stakes too great. He was aware now, though. “If I hadn’t been so messed up I swear I would’ve treated you like a princess.” He understood he’d been careless, and from listening to his Skype call with his doctor the other day, he was determined to not fall into the same habits. He was maturing, growing.
While I sang for him, between one chord and the next, I saw with dawning horror all the same mistakes I was making. At the same time, I didn’t care. I wanted to believe in this new world we inhabited, where he orbited around me rather than the other way around. I held all the power now. With just one crook of my finger I could have him, I knew I could, and yet, I was terrified to take the leap.
I was terrified because maybe, possibly, conceivably I could be happy. And happiness was a stranger, but misery was a dear old friend.
Twenty-Three.
For the next few days, between playing gigs at night and working with Neil during the day, I didn’t get much alone time with Trev. It was a relief in a small way, because it allowed me time to think everything through. Pulling the brakes on the intensity was what both of us needed. We were establishing a newfound friendship and trust, but it was tentative. If we rushed things, we’d crash into the same old wall again—something we were both aware of.
Since Trev couldn’t do much with his injured wrist, he immersed himself in training our young South African friend instead. Every evening they went running together and it warmed my heart to see their budding friendship develop.
On the afternoon of our train to Madrid, I was feeling a little unstable. Not because of Trev, but because of the trip down memory lane I was about to embark on. I was going to visit a city fraught with childhood memories and I wasn’t sure I was ready.
“Sit next to me,” said Trev as I lugged my suitcase on board the train. His hand came to the small of my back as he led me down the first-class carriage.
“It’s an eleven-hour journey. Are you sure you want me next to you all that time? I snore pretty loudly when I fall asleep on public transport,” I joked and saw his expression warm.