Page 31 of Only You
‘Dani, if you’re sick—’
‘I’m okay,’ she insisted, looking him in the eye. His gaze was wary and she grabbed his hand, putting it to her forehead. ‘See? No fever or anything.’ Jones stared at her, scrutinising her before seeming to let whatever worries he had go.
‘Okay,’ he relented.
‘But no more hide and seek,’ she said.
‘We’ll take it easy,’ he said. He looked down at where she was still holding his hand. She blushed, not realising she was holding onto him. She was about to pull away when he squeezed her hand.
‘Let’s go.’ He tugged her along and she fell in step beside him. Next to him, she caught a whiff of his cologne. It smelled like night and orchids. She couldn’t help but lean closer to him, putting her arm through his, her thoughts beginning to drift to Paris.No, she thought as he led her to the Ocean Hall.Stay right here.
After walking around the Natural History Museum, Dani had calmed down long enough to actually start paying attention to the displays. Jones had let her ‘ooh’ and ‘ah’ to her heart’s content before they went to the National Museum of African Art and the Hirshhorn Museum. Jones asked her if she heard any music from the pieces she lingered on. Remembering that she was supposed to be experiencing an art block for her composition, she went along with his attempt to get her to make music on the spot. Sometimes, she would have an answer, explaining what the art piece sounded like to her, sometimes she didn’t and shot the question back at him.
As far as a creative challenge, she didn’t mind it. After hours though, she was tired and ready to head home.
‘I don’t think you could work as a guru,’ Dani declared as they exited their third museum. ‘I feel no closer to my composition being completed than when we first started.’
Jones chuckled as he led her to a bench. ‘You gotta admit it was a good attempt.’
‘Debatable.’ She plopped down, grateful to be off her feet.
‘Stubborn,’ he shot back. She stuck out her tongue in lieu of an answer, getting another laugh out of him. She liked the sound of it.
‘Thanks for today,’ she said. ‘It may not have worked but I had a good time.’ She almost addedwith youbut figured that was too much. It was their first time hanging out and despite holding hands for a bit, she didn’t want to get too familiar too quickly. He was still a stranger, no matter how comfortable she felt at the moment.
‘I hope I don’t make terrible company,’ he teased.
Dani smirked, but her eyes were soft. ‘You’re the best company I could ask for,’ she reassured him. He held out his hand. She didn’t hesitate to place her hand in his and let him pull her to her feet.
‘Don’t be afraid to reach out,’ he told her.
‘For guidance?’
He shrugged. ‘Or company.’ She smiled, looking down at her feet as she felt a flutter in her stomach. Sweet and cute? She was doomed.
‘See you around.’ She turned her heel and started to walk towards the train station, feeling like she was practically skipping as she recalled the feel of his hand in hers. Suddenly, she stopped, the giddiness seeping out of her as she remembered his words.
I hope I don’t make terrible company.
Her eyes widened and she retraced her steps. Jones looked at her curiously.
‘Did you forget somet—’
‘You know,’ she said. It was a painfully vague accusation – she barely knew what exactly she was accusing him of – but the way his face dropped was enough of an answer. It rocked something in her, and she felt unsteady on her feet, but she bore her eyes into him, not daring to look away. ‘Youknow.’
‘…Yeah,’ he admitted. ‘I know.’
‘How is this happening?’
Jones almost chuckled at Danielle’s question. He had been searching for that answer almost his entire life.
‘I wish I could tell you,’ he said. ‘I was just like you, thinking it was dreams or some movie that I forgot about. One day, the memories got triggered and after a while, I could remember everything perfectly. I don’t know why.’
They sat in a nearby cafe she had suggested. The coffee shop bustled around them, filling the awkward silence. Jones saw the way Danielle clutched her paper coffee cup like a lifeline and sympathised with her. He understood her confusion, the overwhelming questions of if this was real and, if it was, why.
‘Okay, but… are you sure they’re the same people? We could both just be crazy.’
‘That’s one explanation,’ he said. ‘I’m sure dreaming of a love affair between a Black French soldier and a rich mixed Ivorian girl is a new sign of anxiety.’
