Page 95 of A Country Kind Of Love
She would like a picture though, just to spice up her drab social media. She can hear Jesse’s voice in her head—take every opportunity to grow your exposure—She rarely posts anything. Shonda’s team are yet to take over that part of her life. Jesse continues to hound her and has done ever since he officially became her manager. He escalates his newfound power every day. Peyton’s latest post involved a can of tuna sitting atop her piano. The caption:What’s the difference between a piano and a fish?...You can’t“tuna” fish.
It is up there with the ten most embarrassing things she’s ever done. She’d say it’s a close fifth, behind the time she hollered across a grocery store and put her arms out to hug an old college friend who turned out to be a complete stranger. She wanted to die.
Peyton stumbles on a raised piece of the bridge’s structure. Cleo reacts at lightning speed. She grabs Peyton’s arm and her waist tosteady her.
“You okay?”
“Yes, that’s so embarrassing.” Peyton blushes.
Cleo sits on the unoccupied concrete slab. There’s one every five metres or so acting as a bench with stunning panoramic views.
“Peyton...”
“Cleo...”
Their names leave each other’s lips together.
“You first,” Cleo says.
Now is her chance. Cleo is finally willing to listen. Peyton takes adeep breath.
Youcan do this.
“I want to stand here and tell you I had no part in the way things turned out with our song, but I did. Regardless of how much I blame my naivety and this overbearing urge inside me to please people. I made those choices myself. I could have walked away. I could have told you sooner. I could have screamed your name from every rooftop in Nashville until you listened to what I had to say, but I’ll do it now. If that’s what it takes. I will scream at the top of my lungs right here, in front of the majority of East Nashville. I am sorry, and...”
“Please... do not... scream.” Cleo rises from her position and walks over to Peyton’s side.
“Okay, no screaming, but I never meant to hurt you. You were never just a pawn to me or a way into the music industry. I would give it all back to be sat in my bedroom writing music with you.”
“You would?” Cleo asks.
“Of course.” She pulls at the edges of her fingernails, there’s a ring on her middle finger that she spins when she’s nervous, and she twists and pulls on it now.
“I guess I can understand getting swept up in the moment. I just never would’ve expected you not to tell me what was going on.” Cleo says.
“I know. I’m sorry. I truly am. I just didn’t know how.”
Cleo reaches out and tucks her fingers underneath Peyton’s outstretched hands. It’s a sort of half hand hold.
“You never did answer my question back at the bar.” Peyton’s curiosity causes a short laugh to escapeCleo’s lips.
“You want to know why I came to the Bluebird?” Cleo holds one hand low beside Peyton’s waist; their fingers are intertwined. Her right hand toys with the zip on Peyton’s borrowed hooded jacket.
“I ran half-way across town in the pouring rain with my guitar case in hand foryou. I got up on stage despite not rehearsing or being the slightest bit prepared foryou.”
“I don’t know what that means.” Peyton edges forwards; she can feel Cleo’s breath on her lips. There’s a sense of anticipation.
“It means... I sang that song with you because despite every negative thought I’ve had since the day we broke up; I never once stopped hoping you would convince me to stay.” Cleo brushes her fingers against Peyton’s lips. She’s so close now she can hearher breathe.
“Please stay,” Peyton whispers.
The words she longs to say and hear are on the tip of her tongue. It may be premature; she isn’t sure of anything anymore. It’s not cool to bear your heart, to pine for love and a connection that isn’t sustainable. Peyton knows fromexperience.
Maybe this can be different. She feels an unavoidable pull, a magnetic energy that is impossible to define. On paper the efforts to put it into words would be cringeworthy. It burns a metaphorical hole in her chest as she feels the soft touch of Cleo’s lips on hers.
“Oka...” Cleo doesn’t get to finish. Peyton’s tongue explores her mouth for the first time in over a month, and it feels good. It’s spectacular. It consumes her. She forgets not everyone has the same enthusiasm for PDA, and she doesn’t care.
With a flash from every angle, there’s a chance their kiss is in the background of someone else’s photo, a silhouette in someone else’s memory. A photo entitledThe Kissing Couple. Their photo will live on in someone else’s story forever. She likes the idea of that.
