Page 21 of The Bridges I've Burned

I liked the feeling of being anonymous. I could be anyone at this moment.

Like a choreographed dance, we both placed our phones down on the table and shoved them forward at the same time, never breaking eye contact. A wry smile tugged at the corner of his lips as the tips of our fingers brushed against each other.

Sparks. There was no other way to describe it.

His eyes widened ever so slightly.

Did he feel it, too?

His throat bobbed before he tore his gaze away and looked down. I did the same, and a moment later, he was laughing.

“I really thought you were bluffing.” He shook his head.

“What?” I looked at his playlist, and it was eerily similar to mine. A healthy mix of classic and alternative rock from the last four decades—including some new bands I’d latched on to. “Did you think I was trying to impress someone, sitting there by myself?”

“No—I mean, I hoped not because shit, what a fucking surprise.”

“Good surprise?”

His eyes crinkled. “Great surprise.”

We ate in companionable silence for a few minutes. He scarfed down his burger while I enjoyed my salad.

“How does a bougie little thing like you get into music like that? Are you secretly a groupie, posing as a trophy wife? Is there a tramp stamp under there I should know about?”

“You’re funny.” I eyed his French fries with envy.

“I know.” He shoved his plate of fries to the middle of the table, and I my brow furrowed before I looked up at him. “No one should come to a bar and order just a salad. Not when bars have the best fries.”

I let out a sigh. “Fine.”

He looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to answer his previous question. It fell into the personal side of things, but I decided to answer it anyway.

“My parents were very strict. Still are, I guess,” I said, always feeling awkward when I spoke about them.

“You are not my daughter.”

The words assaulted my memory every time I thought of them.

“My brother and I were never allowed to listen to music unless it was in church. My brother was as straitlaced as they came. He never did wrong, he got the grades, and as far as my parents were concerned, he really did exist just to lick their ass.”

He laughed.

“It must have been around the time I was nine or so because he was ten. I was walking toward my room, and I heard something.”

I’d never forget that moment because the sound made me falter. I had never heard anything like it within the walls of our house.

“I crept up to his room and put my ear to his door, and sure enough, there was music playing. I didn’t even knock. I was a nosey little shit, so…” I shrugged, and he grinned. I was still a nosey little shit. “I’m pretty sure he jumped a foot off the ground when I appeared in front of him. I thought for sure he was going to yell at me. Instead, he shut the door, pulled me into his lap, and showed me all of his old CDs. I thought they were the coolest things I’d ever seen, and of course, by default, my brother was the coolest for owning them. Music was our thing.”

A sad smile ghosted across my face.

“You must have loved him very much.”

I looked up at him, my face blanched.

“You said was when you were referring to him.”

I swallowed, biting my lip. I didn’t need to say anything. He already knew, so there was no need to confirm it.

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