Page 26 of Composed
“Yes.” Talia says, dividing the shots between us before she leans back against the booth. “I need to forget about tablecloths. You need enough liquid courage that you’ll spill the beans on your secret love life. And Riley…”
She glances at Riley then, who sniffs a shot and shrugs. “I just like Sambuca.”
“Good enough.” Talia lifts a glass to her lips and looks at me. “Bottoms up.”
Ah, fuck it.
Aniseed sears my tongue when I tip the glass. I cringe, biting down so it doesn’t crawl back up.
My stomach rolls and I gag. “You just had to go for Sambuca, didn’t you?”
“It loosens you up quickly.” Talia hums. “So yes.”
“Tequila loosens her up quicker,” Riley says.
“Then you can get that on the next round.”
“I am not fighting my way through that crowd.” Riley scoffs. “You can just take my card.”
Talia nods. “Deal. Now, Hendrix.”
“Yes…” I absentmindedly drum my fingers on the tabletop, sipping my martini to chase away the bitterness still clinging to my tongue.
“Don’t leave us hanging.” Her eyes burn the side of my head.
I consider my options.
There’s no real reason to not tell them about my relationship with Cole. It’s just, every time I think of bringing him up, something holds me back.
He’s the elephant in the room that is my life.
He was mine, and mine alone, not someone I ever felt the need to share with the world.
I snatch another shot and drain it.
“I met Cole when I was fourteen,” I tell them. “My family had just moved to town. He was the cute boy in my form room. We clicked, right away. Started dating a year later. And we were together for five years, right up until my last year of university.”
Talia’s voice softens, a mixture of awe and surprise slipping through her tone. “It was serious, then?”
I shrug. “As serious as any teen relationship can be.”
“Did you love him?” Riley asks.
I twirl the stem of my empty glass, gaze drifting to the aged black and grey microphone on my wrist.
Nestled between my vivid coloured American traditional patchwork sleeve, it clings to my skin like a ghost. I thought about covering once. But I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.
I often wonder if my Gibson hummingbird still stains his skin too.
Riley’s question hangs in the air like a black cloud.
“I taught him to play guitar, you know.” A smile lifts my lips.
“Saint had been trying for months, but he wasterrible.No matter what Saint did, Cole just couldn’t get it. So, we traded lessons.”
I sip my drink.
“He taught me to skateboard, I taught him guitar. He played the piano, I wrote the music. Everything that was ours alone became shared. Music, movies, hobbies. Nothing was off-limits. He wasn’t just my boyfriend. He was my favourite human in the whole entire world.”
