Hearts on Air
Page 73
“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.
“I don’t care if you drool on my shoulder, just sit with me. We’ve hardly talked in days.”
Before I could respond he ushered me to a window seat. Trev lifted my suitcase with one arm, which was pretty impressive, and deposited it in the overhead bin. Then he slid into the seat beside me and grinned.
“See, that wasn’t so hard.”
I arched a brow. “Did I have a choice?”
His grin widened. “Nope.”
Callum and Paul took the two seats opposite ours, while James, Leanne and Isaac sat just across the aisle. I stuck my headphones in and listened to music as the train left the station. A few minutes into the journey, Trev nudged me with his shoulder and held out his injured wrist.
“I’m making everyone write something on here. Want to go first?”
I smiled wide as I glanced at his cast and placed a hand to my heart. “Why, Trevor, I’d be honoured to break you in.”
His expression turned playful as he handed me a blue Sharpie. I uncapped it and took a moment to think about what to write, then a funny thought struck me. I held his hand at an angle so he couldn’t see, scribbled something down, then handed the Sharpie back to him. His eyes gleamed with pleasure when he saw what I wrote, his mouth curving in a slow smile as he read aloud.
“This happened to your right hand because God’s been watching you in the shower. Let it be a lesson.”
Everyone laughed while I shot Trev a challenging smirk. “It was a toss-up between that and ‘Too glam to give a damn’.”
He narrowed his gaze, his mouth twitching as he tried not to smile. “Of course, it was.” A pause as he looked at his cast again, then effected an offended expression. “God’s a pervert.”
“Oh yeah, total voyeur,” said Paul. “The religion part’s just a front.”
“This is the reason why I’m glad to be sharing a bathroom with only Reya for the rest of the trip,” Leanne put in. “I know exactly what you lot get up to in the shower.”
“I thought we agreed never to speak of that,” Paul added humorously.
Leanne chuckled. “Right, my bad.”
“The shower is the most hygienic place to do it though,” James reasoned with a demure smirk.
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.
“I don’t care if you drool on my shoulder, just sit with me. We’ve hardly talked in days.”
Before I could respond he ushered me to a window seat. Trev lifted my suitcase with one arm, which was pretty impressive, and deposited it in the overhead bin. Then he slid into the seat beside me and grinned.
“See, that wasn’t so hard.”
I arched a brow. “Did I have a choice?”
His grin widened. “Nope.”
Callum and Paul took the two seats opposite ours, while James, Leanne and Isaac sat just across the aisle. I stuck my headphones in and listened to music as the train left the station. A few minutes into the journey, Trev nudged me with his shoulder and held out his injured wrist.
“I’m making everyone write something on here. Want to go first?”
I smiled wide as I glanced at his cast and placed a hand to my heart. “Why, Trevor, I’d be honoured to break you in.”
His expression turned playful as he handed me a blue Sharpie. I uncapped it and took a moment to think about what to write, then a funny thought struck me. I held his hand at an angle so he couldn’t see, scribbled something down, then handed the Sharpie back to him. His eyes gleamed with pleasure when he saw what I wrote, his mouth curving in a slow smile as he read aloud.
“This happened to your right hand because God’s been watching you in the shower. Let it be a lesson.”
Everyone laughed while I shot Trev a challenging smirk. “It was a toss-up between that and ‘Too glam to give a damn’.”
He narrowed his gaze, his mouth twitching as he tried not to smile. “Of course, it was.” A pause as he looked at his cast again, then effected an offended expression. “God’s a pervert.”
“Oh yeah, total voyeur,” said Paul. “The religion part’s just a front.”
“This is the reason why I’m glad to be sharing a bathroom with only Reya for the rest of the trip,” Leanne put in. “I know exactly what you lot get up to in the shower.”
“I thought we agreed never to speak of that,” Paul added humorously.
Leanne chuckled. “Right, my bad.”
“The shower is the most hygienic place to do it though,” James reasoned with a demure smirk.
