Page 82 of Just My Type of wrong guy

I’d fall with you.

Almost Yours– a WIP track for Vicious Bonds’ third album.

I open my eyes when sunlight spills into the room and blink twice, catching a glimpse of Daniele slipping out the door. What a gentle way for my best friend to wake me up. I run my hand over the sheets, searching for my phone, and as soon as I unlock it, I understand the “gentleness.”

I was supposed to wake up at ten. It’s 11:45.

I sink into the pillow before getting up. I never wake up this late. But I spent the first half of the night tossing and turning, unable to get Alexandra out of my head. She’s like a song I learned as a kid — always playing somewhere in the background. Even when I try to fight it.

In the middle of the night, I got up to use the bathroom and left the hallway light on for a few extra seconds when I came back. Alexandra was sleeping so peacefully, so lost in her dreams, that I had to study her relaxed face and the messy hair slipping out of her bun for just a little longer before crawling back into bed.

But once I did, I closed my eyes with one thought on repeat:This isn’t right. And it has to stop.

Downstairs, everyone’s already at the table. They all look at me like they’ve rehearsed it, but no one says anythingbeyond the usual greetings. My seat is waiting — right between Alexandra and Daniele — and I can’t help but laugh at the irony.

Light conversation about our expectations for returning to the U.S. tour fills the air, and I reserve the right to just nod along with my friends. Guilherme looks like a king in his own castle. For the first time in a long time, he has his sister, his parents, and Beatriz sitting around the same table. The woman he’s loved in silence for years and waited for, even when he wasn’t sure she’d ever come back.

Richard isn’t sitting next to Dani this time, but right in front of my friend; this only makes it worse because the two of them can’t take their eyes off each other.

Thomas, as always, stays silent until someone mentions him. Only then does he pull his dreads back, sit up straight in the white wooden chair, and give his opinion.

For the band dynamic, nothing’s out of the ordinary.

Guilherme’s parents seem genuinely happy to see the house full, and it takes me straight back to my school days. My parents were always the ones who offered the house, the garage, and the backyard for hangouts with my friends. I lift my juice to my mouth, realizing I wouldn’t be able to do the same for the band — I can’t even remember the last time I sat at a table with my parents for a meal.

As the conversation shifts, I’m reminded that, through everything, there’s still Alexandra. Sitting next to me, she responds to Beatriz’s attempts to reconnect, and with a huge smile, she shares memories of when she, Guilherme, and Bia were in the same soap opera and the same band.

Subjects come and go, Alexandra gets up and ties my hair — she says it was falling into my plate — and the laughter around the table is contagious. I, however, stay focused on eating and thinking that tomorrow we’ll be back on tour.Tomorrow I’ll sing ‘One Last Kiss’, meet a cool and fun person, and spend the night with her to forget my Miss Petulant.

When lunch is over, and Guilherme and Beatriz start clearing the table and putting things in the dishwasher, I stand up.

“Is everything okay?” Alexandra grabs my hand, stopping me from walking.

I take a deep breath and turn to her, bending down until my mouth reaches her ear.

“My head’s full, I need to play something, I’m going downstairs for a bit.”

“And I’m supposed to stay here alone?” she whispers, holding onto my neck. Her breath against my skin makes me shiver, and I pull back just enough to feel safe.

“Daniele’s dying to be your friend, go talk to her.” I kiss her forehead and turn, going my own way while she stays there, standing, with an unreadable expression.

***

“I’m not in love with her,” I murmur, as if those words could erase the chaos brewing inside me.

“I’m not in love with her,” repeat, louder this time.

But the words feel empty. A lie I’ve told myself one too many times.

I grab my guitar and start strumming. At first, it’s random, like my body is still trying to convince itself that everything is under control. But slowly, the notes begin to connect, bringing to my mind a lyric I’ve been trying to avoid.

If you ever look at me

Like I’m more than safe and sweet,

Like I’m someone you could fall for too...

I’d fall with you.

---