Page 29 of A Wish for Us

Go home, Cromwell. I forced myself to cut through the path that ran alongside the park and back to campus. But with every new movement, the colors grew brighter and brighter in my mind. I stopped dead and squeezed my eyes shut. Leaning against the fence, I pressed the heels of my palms to my eyes. But the colors didn’t go.

Reds danced into triangles, shimmering and gliding into forest greens. Bright yellows flicked and shifted into peach; long-drawn-out sections of sunset oranges burst into the lightest of browns.

I dropped my hands, and my shoulders sagged in defeat. I turned and looked through the railings. The stage was in the distance now. I looked for security guards, but I didn’t find any. There was no one in sight. I hooked my feet into the fence and pulled myself over the top. I jumped to the floor, the branches from the bushes and trees scratching at my skin.

The dark that was building kept me hidden as I waded my way to the main area of the park. I slid through a gap in the trees and began walking toward where the music was playing. With every step the colors got brighter, until I did what I hadn’t done in three years, what I was too tired to fight anymore…

I let them free.

I tore off the leash that held them back and let them fly.

My hands itched at my sides as I took in the music, eyes closed and just drinking it in.

When the fourth movement came to a close, I opened my eyes and walked to the edge of the audience. I saw a tree to my left and moved to sit at it. I looked out at the stage as the next piece began…and not a few feet in front of me was a familiar brunette. My heart stuttered. After a week of not seeing her, the pale pink and lavender colors surrounding her seemed brighter. More vivid.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

Bonnie had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and she sat onanother, alone. It made me think of the blanket she’d put on me as I slept that night in Brighton.

She’d covered me with a blanket, even though I’d been a complete tosser to her. My heart squeezed again. I rocked on my feet to chase the feeling away.

I was over feeling so much.

Bonnie’s knees were bent, her arms resting on top. Even from where I was, I could see that her eyes were fixed on the musicians. She wasn’t missing a single beat.

I stayed watching her as they switched to one of Bach’s Brandenburg Concertos. My hands clenched at my sides. Then when she moved her hand and wiped a stray tear off her cheek, they relaxed and I found myself moving to where she sat. I slumped to the grass beside her.

I could feel her eyes on me the minute she could bear to tear them away from the orchestra. I sat forward, arms hanging over my legs. She was watching me, a surprised expression on her face.

My teeth ground together as my pulse started to race. I pulled my Corona from my pocket and took a sip. I could still feel her looking, so I met her gaze. “Farraday.”

Bonnie blinked, and then her eyes snapped back to the orchestra. When the Bach finished, the interval began. The orchestra left the stage, and people moved toward the food and drink trucks. I lay back on the grass, resting on my elbow. I had no idea what I was doing here. Easton had just told me Bonnie didn’t even like me.

And I knew that was it. I shouldn’t care that she didn’t, should have encouraged it, in fact. But I couldn’t get it from my head. She’d seen me. She knew that I could play.

I didn’t have to pretend with her.

“I can’t believe you’re here.” Bonnie’s voice shook. She was nervous. I could see it on her face. In her brown eyes. I couldn’t believe I was here either. When I didn’t answer her back, Bonnie busied herself by reaching into the basket she had beside her. She was wearing a pink jumper—or “sweater,” as she would probably call it—and jeans. Her brown blanket now covered her legs. She pulled out a packet of sweets, opened them, and started chewing on a long piece of red licorice.

I brought a cigarette to my lips and went to light up. Her hand came down on my arm. “Please don’t, Cromwell.” I looked down at my arm. She was holding it in the same place as she’d held it that night in the music room. When she’d heard me. When she’d seen me playing the instruments.

When she’d seen me break.

I looked up at her. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were wide. I wondered if she was remembering the same thing. I kept her stare, trying to read whatever was in her eyes. But when I couldn’t, I lowered my smoke and put it back in my pocket. Then she eventually breathed out. “Thank you.” She rubbed her chest. I wondered if her heart was beating fast too.

I didn’t know what to say around her. The last time I’d seen her, I’d cracked and amended her composition. I’d been short with her. Tried to push her from my head. But no matter how hard I tried, she would never go.

Bonnie looked everywhere but at me. “You were ill,” I blurted out. It sounded more like an accusation than a question.

She must have thought that too, as she stared at me, then smirked. That smirk did funny things to my stomach. Made it pull tight. “I was ill.”

I sat up and looked out over the crowd, trying to push the feeling away.

“Did you miss me?”

I turned to Bonnie, first not knowing why the hell she asked that. And second not knowing what the hell to say.

She was smiling. When I blinked, confused, she burst out laughing. She put her hand on my forearm. “I’m only joking, Cromwell.” She waved her hand in a calming gesture. “You can breathe now.”

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