Page 34 of White Room Virgin

I had made a mistake. Jonah was like an angel; I wasn’t worthy of him at all. I’d proved enough in the last year and a half that I was scum.

I paced back and forth in the kitchen like a tiger in a cage, nervously dragging on my cigarette. But even inhaling deeply didn’t help me calm down. So I headed for the fridge and took out a cold beer.

Come on, get a grip! It’s probably just this damn anniversary. It has nothing to do with Jonah. We just had spent a peaceful lunch and he wouldn’t stayed and certainly wouldn’t have smiled at me like that if he loathed me.

But all the persuasion was in vain. Over the next few hours, my day darkened more and more. My thoughts were racing, and a terrible storm was raging inside me. The very possibility that Jonah might like me seemed so far-fetched that I tried to find comfort in the theory that it would be best for him to have nothing to do with me anymore. But how was I supposed to get through all this without him? Now that he had left the apartment, I felt emptier than before. He had acted as a counterbalance to me and had kept me sane, and now that he was gone, I was drifting further and further into darkness. But there was one good thing about the abyss: They awakened my inspiration. And so, between beers and cigarettes, like a man possessed, I put ideas on paper that I later wanted to put on canvas in the studio.

In my delirium, I didn’t even notice how time was passing, and my cigarette almost fell out of the corner of my mouth when Jonah returned to the kitchen. With wide eyes, he scanned his surroundings. My sketches were scattered everywhere—on the chairs, the sideboard, and even on the stove. Three empty beer bottles were on the table, and the ashtray was full to the brim.

His presence snapped me out of the spiral I was trapped in, and I realized how far I had fallen in the three hours of hisabsence. Jonah opened the window, let in some fresh air, and turned to me. His look spoke volumes. He watched me, stunned, as if I were no longer the same person he’d had lunch with. Admittedly, I wasn’t. He had already tried to say something twice but obviously didn’t have the words.

I froze, and my breath hitched. I would rather be anywhere than here. It was impossible for me to continue where we left off at lunchtime.

I gathered my sketches and shoved them into the folder, packed up my cigarettes and lighter, went into my room to get my coat, and fled the apartment … or rather, from Jonah.

16

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Jonah

I had never felt more out of place in my life. It wasn’t the leather jackets, studded belts, or the many tattoos that made me feel this way. It was my white sweater and brown tweed trousers that seemed entirely out of sync. I definitely didn’t belong in this place. We hadn’t even entered the club yet, but I was secretly hoping to be turned away at the entrance. However, the girl stamped my hand and winked at me. Martin pushed me through the dimly lit corridor into the basement. Smoke hung thickly in the air, music blared from speakers scattered around the space, and the band hadn’t even started playing yet.

“You remember Marco,” Martin said, stuffing my jacket into a corner with his.

I wasn’t sure and shook my head.

“The tall guy who looks like a wrestler plays the bass. They’re celebrating the release of their second album today.”

We grabbed a few beers at the bar and entered the vaulted cellar where the concert would take place. Surprisingly, the atmosphere was relaxed and casual. Despite a few irritated glances, no one seemed to mind my presence.

We had stopped right next to the doorway when Martin waved to someone at the bar. Steven, who seemed stoned as usual, waved back and then tugged on Lu’s coat. Lu stood with his back to us, putting his wallet away and handing Steven a beer. When he made a move to come over to us, Lu hesitated. He was in no hurry to follow Steven at all. His eyes darted in all directions, as if he were desperately looking for a reason to deviate from the path.

“Guys!” Steven shouted, clinking his plastic cup against mine so hard that my beer spilled over and ran down my hand. “What’s up? Happy birthday!”

Lucien stopped between Martin and Steven and congratulated me with a forced smile while toasting me from a safe distance. Surprisingly, I was grateful for his restraint; I couldn’t imagine how I would have reacted if he had hugged me to congratulate me.

He was insecure and didn’t know how to behave toward me. His moods changed like the weather. First, he’d been away for two weeks, and after I’d shown up at the studio, he started hanging around at home again and seemed quite normal, except for last night. After we’d had lunch together, he seemed balanced and content. But three hours later, he became a completely different person and completely out of it. As quickly as he packed his things, he fled from me.

And now he was standing here, forcing a smile for me. I just couldn’t figure him out.

“Dude,” Steven said, tugging on Lucien’s sleeve again. “Give me a cigarette.”

Lucien handed one to him, and Steven licked the cigarette, extinguishing the tobacco and making his way toward the exit. He would probably roll the joint outside first.

“I’ll be right back,” Martin said and disappeared too.

Great … that’s not part of the plan.I looked at Lucien with a puzzled expression.

“Have you ever been to a concert before?” he asked.

I frowned, surprised that he was the one trying to avoid an awkward silence, at least until I noticed the half-empty cup in his hand. He’s pounding it back very fast.

Is he nervous and trying to pick up where we left off yesterday lunchtime?

“No,” I replied. “At least not on one of those.”

“Well, let’s make it all the more fun then,” he said, patting me on the back. He managed to break the ice at least a little.

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