Page 41 of Speechless

It’s now that I realize he never said a word to Crystal. He sort of had a deer-in-headlights thing going on when we were all introduced. Not very different from the night we went to Nobu and the waitress tried talking to him. It isn’t strange to be shy around new people, but I know he’s not always like that.

“Why not with me?”

“Hmm?”

“I can tell you’re shy, which is completely fine by the way. Sometimes I wish I was shy, just to get myself to shut up.”Like right now, this very moment. “But when we met, you didn’t seem shy at all, and you didn’t know me.”

His eyes find mine but they look different, warmer; they’re starting to glisten. I can’t tell if he’s about to cry or come wrap me up in a bear hug. Neither happens.

“You’re special.”

I wait for the punchline but nothing comes. Then I notice his subtle nod, like he’s doubling down on the statement, leaving no room for discussion. There’s a booming “no, I’m not” crawling its way up my throat, begging my mouth for release, but I suppress it with the might of a lion.

Take the compliment. Don’t argue. Don’t ask why.

I’m not sure what to say after that. His simple words feel potent, heavy.You’re special. Maybe I’m reading too much into what he says, but I don’t think I am. I think Henry is the kind of man who only says exactly what he means.

I think he is the perfect amount of sweet.

“Can you play me something? Jayce interrupted your performance earlier.”

“Sure. Why don’t we finish up your little masterpiece from the ride home, the sushi sonata. Want to remind me of the lyrics?”

I can’t stop myself from cracking up. Those lyrics were beyond pitiful.

“I’m not joking. Come here.” He looks so serious.

“What?”

“Come over here.” He taps the bench next to him. “I never start a song I don’t intend to finish. Let’s get this over with.”

We stay up until four in the morning, butI Love the Way You Rollis indeed a masterpiece.

For the next three weeks,not a day goes by that I don’t find myself in Henry’s studio.

interlude

Love, love, love, that is the soul of genius.

-Mozart

17

Henry

“I thinkI’m falling in love with her.”

I don’t know what to make of the look on Graham’s face. I’m bearing my soul to him and I could swear he’s wincing. “Henry, are you sure? You just met the girl. Have you evenbeenin love before?”

I follow him over to the squat rack. It’s Sunday and everyone else is out of the house enjoying brunch, but it's leg day for us, a tradition we’ve had ever since he first moved in with me. I finally found the perfect time to bring this up to Graham and his response is less than desirable.

Lucy’s been staying here for over a month now. It may seem fast to Graham, but it’s already the longest relationship I’ve had with a woman, platonic or otherwise.

And who cares when we met, or what silly rules people expect us to follow. My world, my tiny, insignificant little world is unequivocally better with her in it. What else truly matters?

“You know I haven’t been in love.” He gives me a knowing glance. “Don’t look at me like that. How on earth would I have been in love before?”

“Exactly. How do you know you love her?”

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