Page 104 of It Couldn't Be You
Can you still feel my head on your shoulder?
I ran back over to the wall as the song came to an end and quickly queued up my own old favorite, remembering dancing around his kitchen in my pajamas, belting out the song “Teenage Dream” with Katie. As she sang about skintight jeans and forts made out of sheets, I heard Gabriel’s raspy laugh from the other room.
Seconds later, my phone lit up with a message from him, with his own version of the song.
Gabe
The way you’re stuck in my head, I can’t sleep
Me
We flew to Cali and ate pizza on the beach.
I bit my lip, melting straight into the hotel’s plush carpet when I read his next message.
Gabe
Now every February you’ll be my Hot Valentine Date
As the song came to an end, he started playing “Riptide” by Vance Joy. He used to play this song on the piano upstairs at his house. I would hear him while working on homework at the kitchen table or while sitting outside with Midnight. I closed my eyes and saw him sitting at the piano in his white tee shirt, hair falling in his eyes as he bent over the keys.
Me
I miss your cover of this song.
Gabe
so much I just gotta know
I held the phone to my chest, listening to the urgency, the fear, the hope in the song. I thought, maybe I couldn’t relate to this song, but oh, how I could relate.
The song came to an end, and neither of us played another. It was quiet on both sides of the wall.
I sang the chorus to myself quietly. Just me and my feelings all alone on my side of the wall, so very aware of Gabriel on the other side. Was he sitting there, still? Like me? Basically together, but very much alone—a big, fat wall between us.
Was his hair wet from the shower? Was he in pajama bottoms, no shirt?
Gabe
goodnight, little writer
I crawled back into my bed. The room felt too quiet now, even with the waves out the window. I pulled my laptop onto my lap to work on my piece for this weekend. Going over my notes from my first day of travel. I worked, trying my hardest not to be distracted by the ridiculously sweet guy next door.
Thirty-Seven
The next morning, I slid the balcony window wide open, letting the crisp, cool morning air fill the room. I wore the thick hotel robe as I got myself ready and pulled my hair back into a sleek ponytail. I picked out a flowy sundress and a beige and white cardigan with big pockets. I had just finished putting on a bit of mascara and tinted moisturizer when there was a little tap on my door.
In my doorway stood Gabriel with to-die-for sleepy eyes, holding two large coffees.
“You are a hero among men,” I greeted him. “Come in, come in.”
He walked in behind me, then sat down beside the warm fireplace. I plopped down next to him. “I got you a lavender oat milk latte with an extra shot.”
“You know me.” I happily started sipping. “How did you sleep last night?”
“Like a baby,” he said. “I forgot how much I missed being on a trip.”
“Sleeping to the sound of waves isn’t half bad.”
