Page 85 of The Girl with No Name

I take one last look at the place before we exit through the side gate. “What an epic night.”

“You performed in front of the Red freaking Lemons,” she says.

“Weperformed,” I correct as we start our walk back to the city center.

“Well, I couldn’t sing along to ‘Old Soul From Chicago’because I’ve never heard it. It was really good, though.”

“Thanks.”

“How many songs would you say you’ve written?”

“Hmmm... I don’t know, probably over a hundred.”

“Over a hundred?! That’s insane. How’d you do that?”

“Recently, I just write one every day pretty much, when I have a spare moment.”

“You know that’s not normal, right?”

“I’m definitely not normal, so, yeah,” I joke.

“No, Reed.” Pulling my hand, she stops me, and turns to face me. “You’re so interesting to me. Because you’ll get on stage like a crazy person and play with the Red Lemons. But you still think you’re not good enough to play. Like, what’s riskier, if you think about it? Staying in that job you obviously don’t like? Or going after your dreams?”

I find myself staring deep into her eyes, and my heart starts to hammer relentlessly. Luna’s thick, dark hair falls around her shoulders and I feel continuously drawn to her.

“Where do you get off telling me what to do?” I joke, trying to push her off.

“Oh I’m not telling you what to do. I’m just reflecting who I see.”

I don’t know what else to say to this woman. She’s so right, and this entire weekend has felt like she’s been doing a personal excavation of my soul. She sees right through my bullshit, and projects some new, better person I could become onto me.

I see a hell of a lot of potential in her, too.

We both look up, and the full moon is being covered over with hazy clouds. I start down the sidewalk again, and she follows.

We walk a few blocks, and it starts to drizzle. Thunder rolls in the distance.

“Really wish we had our phones,” she says.

“Really, spiritual-rebirth girl? You can’t make it one night with no phone?” I wink, then look up at the sky. “We shall guide ourselves home using the stars!”

A smile spreads across her face. “We can’t see the stars anymore, though.”

“Guess we’ll just have to operate on instinct.”

The rain starts to come down heavier, and as we pass a park, it opens up into a downpour.

“Come on!” I grab her hand and guide her toward a grove of trees. Lightning flashes and I see a sign. Turns out this is an old arboretum.

We find a huge tree in the center of the park—a weeping willow, I think—and gather as close as we can to the trunk so we’re protected from the downpour. The wind picks up, and the deluge continues. Hiding is no use. Our clothes are basically soaked through, our bodies pressed together for extra warmth, when inspiration hits me.

“Come here,” I tell Luna, taking her hand and guiding her away from the trunk.

With her hair matted against her head, and her clothes soaked through, we start to dance, and I sing:

We laughed and we danced

As it started to pour.

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