Page 93 of The Heartbreakers
Remember the picture you took of me?
That close-up-style vignette.
My world was blurry before you;
I was too scared to see.
But slowly the picture’s developing,
And I know what’s happening to me.
You settled into my lungs
And crawled into my heart.
You’re in every word I sing
And my star in the dark.
Girl, you might think that we fell,
Fell hard from the stars,
But my love’s untouched, unmarred.
And I’m telling you that I’m coming apart,
Coming apart ’cause I’m still in love.
You settled into my lungs.
You’re in every word I sing,
Every word I sing.
When the song finished, I wished I could hit a replay button like I was listening to my iPod. That way I could hear Oliver say that he loved me over and over again. I knew the instant he started singing that it wasn’t just a song but a message for me. It wasn’t the title or the lyrics that gave it away, but because I knew that the sound of Oliver’s voice—so gruff and broken and otherworldly—could only be the product of raw emotion, and that was something my heart recognized.
“That was beautiful,” Cara said, “but I don’t get it. Why’s the song called ‘Astrophil’? What does ‘astrophil’ even mean?”
I smiled to myself. “Star-lover,” I said.
And I was his star.
I remembered back to the conversation I’d had with Cara a month ago, when she’d said there are no guarantees in life. At the time, I didn’t hear what she was saying, but now I did. By not giving Oliver a second chance, I was playing it safe like when I deferred from NYU or almost gave up on photography. I’d made a decision to stop living in fear the day I read Beth’s letter, and now I needed to follow through.
As Oliver came offstage, his face was closed off and guarded. I completely understood why—if he’d come up to me tonight and told me he loved me, I never would have listened. So through his song, he told me the only way he could. It was a risk, and he’d just displayed his heart for the world to see without knowing if he’d get a response.
But I would give him one.
I smiled and placed my hand over my chest, right above where my own heart rested, so he’d know that this time I’d heard his message. Oliver stopped midstride. He stared at me as if I were a unicorn riding a rainbow, but then the realization snapped across his face and he strode toward me. He was a few yards away when an idea came to mind, so I held up a hand, signaling for him to stop. I pulled out my cell and started scrolling through my contacts. Oliver frowned as I listened to the ringer, but then he jerked and started digging at his pocket when he felt his own phone go off.
“Hello?” His tone was uncertain when he picked up.
“Remember when you gave me your number and made me promise to call?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said, his lips almost tweaking up into a grin. “You never did.”
“Well, I hope it’s not too late,” I said. “I know there’s usually a three-day rule, but I figured it was worth a shot.”
