Maybe Once, Maybe Twice(25)

I was in the middle of pretending to read a riveting email from Lyft when a low, soft voice broke through the crowd. The hair on my arms stood up and my heart galloped like a racehorse.

The first night I met Asher, I sat alone on my top bunk. Lit only by a small book light, I scribbled “I fell into stars” into my songwriter journal with my entire mind racing and unblocked. I wasn’t expecting Asher Reyes to do this to my adult body. But eighteen years later, and all I can say is…I fell into stars.





15

THIRTY-FIVE




IT SEEMED IMPOSSIBLE—ASHER WAS PHYSICALLY standing only yards away from me. My entire body felt like it was floating outside itself, gazing at him in surround sound. I could hardly move; all I could do was take him in. Across the room, Asher was surrounded by half a dozen seemingly influential people. A famous Broadway actress and a blockbuster director among them. They stood tall, not reduced to a puddle by his celebrity, but they leaned in to his body when he spoke—they recognized how important he was. Asher used his hands to paint a picture—to tell a story of something only he could make come alive. His eyes brushed mine for half of a second. His attention went back to the actress he was impressing, but then his jaw stayed slack, wide open midsentence. His eyes widened and floated back toward me, and I smiled as he pulled his neck forward, blinking me back. The bodies around him turned in my direction, prying eyes trying to see the reason Asher Reyes had lost focus. He tilted his head slightly toward the lapel of his leather jacket in disbelief.

Before I could catch my breath, I realized he was walking toward me. The chandeliers above existed just to follow the angular slopes of his body, until all at once, he stopped giving the crystals a reason to shine. Asher Reyes was standing right in front of my face.

I soaked in the freckles swimming in his yellow-brown irises, the two-day stubble on his jaw. He had grown into a man that no picture could do justice. A man. A gorgeous man. Asher’s lips parted, but just silent air floated between us. His wide-eyed expression curled into a soft, stunned, one-sided grin, he took one more step forward, and I let the arms of the first man I ever loved fold around my body in a tenderly unfamiliar way. We had never hugged, ever, where it hadn’t meant something more. Our hearts had never beat against each other in a platonic nature. But here we were, pretending. I pulled back, letting my cheek brush his stubbly neck, inhaling the scent of wildflowers after a rainstorm, the smell of a rebellious cowboy who took refuge in a Connecticut lilac field. His hands lingered on the open back of my dress. My throat went dry amid the surreality of his skin on my skin. I wondered if he still remembered the ways we used to touch each other.

“What—how…what are you doing here?” he asked, with a stupefied grin splashed on his face.

His hand left my body, and I cracked open my jaw. It was hard to remember how vowels and consonants worked together to form sentences with his eyes peeling the protective layer off my skin.

“I…I saw the Deadline article.”

“Oh…?”

I wanted guilt to be plastered all over his movie-star face, but there wasn’t a hint of “my bad for stealing that thing you loved without telling you” in sight. Instead, he fought a smile, and a part of me was thankful to replace stars in my chest with a punch of anger.

“You got the rights to my favorite book,” I said, trying to remain cool while seething.

“I did…” he replied.

He was now full-on grinning, giving my spite permission to thunder to the surface. I crossed my arms over my chest.

“If you think I’m going to let anyone else write the music for On the Other Side without a fight, you’re out of your mind.”

His eyes widened, surprised by the undercurrent of anger in my voice.

He turned sheepish. “I—I had no idea you’d want to work on it.”

“A heads-up would have been nice. You wouldn’t know On the Other Side existed if it weren’t for me. Reading the article…it felt like you took something that belonged to me and threw it to the wolves. It felt careless.”

His jaw clenched, letting the pain behind his eyes shine through.

“Careless,” he repeated.

An ache in my chest replaced the fire. I had just told the guy who historically cared too much that he was careless. I opened my mouth to try and soften my previous words, but he spoke first.

“I’ve had the book rights for a decade. I’ve been renewing them every eighteen months. Do you think it’s a coincidence it was announced before midnight on your birthday?” he asked.

The air left my lungs. The article about my favorite book was published before midnight on my thirty-fifth birthday. The very day we were supposed to find each other.

“Before midnight…You remembered…?” was all I could manage to say.

“Of course I did,” he stated, as if any other option was impossible.

Of course he did.

“Where’s my ring?” I asked, jokingly.

He twisted a cocktail napkin in his fingers, his cheeks reddening.

“I’ll get right on it,” he said.

Asher exhaled a little smile as his eyes brushed mine, and I felt my insides hum.

“You could have just…DMed me.”

He shook his head, playfully offended by the suggestion.

“There’s nothing romantic about that,” he scoffed, letting a half-grin splinter his jawline.