Page 24 of You Rock My World
Before a firefighter can pull out their phone and ask for a photo with me, I cut in, “Yeah, same here, thank you.”
Then I head after her, fueled by a desire to hold on to our connection and a gnawing unease that whatever last night was, it’s over. But I need to catch up with her, to… I’ve no idea to do what.
I just know I’m not ready to lose her.
15
JOSIE
One Year Ago
I’m already washing my hands when I realize that once I come out of the restroom, Dorian might be gone. I should’ve squeezed my bladder harder and waited to pee until after saying goodbye to him.
I scowl at my reflection in the mirror above the sink. A red crease slashes across my cheek from using my bag as a pillow. But the real problem is my eyes—the unhinged, maniacally bright light shining in them. I splash water on my face, but when I check again, the look is still there, and it only means one thing: I’m fucked—forever. Because in the most incredible night of my life, I have fallen in love with a man I can never have. I wanted a spark, I got a blaze that’s going to burn me to cinders.
I grip the sides of the sink, my knuckles turning white as I glare at myself.
How did it happen so fast? I did my best to play it cool with him, not to let it show how much I found him attractive and what a ridiculous celebrity crush I had on him. Then the next moment, I was coming undone in his arms, and he was describing me as a rainbow… and I went from being star-struck to a total eclipse of the heart.
I dry my face and hands on a paper towel and exit the bathroom, not sure what I’ll find. I fear Dorian will be gone. I hope he’ll still be in the atrium. But I don’t expect to find him in the darkened hall, leaning with one shoulder against the wall, waiting for me.
Something sharp stabs at my chest, violent and unforgiving. His gaze, earnest but sad, cuts me open. But what breaks me is how unmistakably his attitude looks like a goodbye.
Heart thumping like a jackhammer, I approach him. “Hello, stranger.”
“Hey,” he says, jaw tight.
I don’t know what to make of the situation, so I resort to my default setting of using humor. “I thoughtIwas supposed to stalkyou.”
But he’s not in the mood. His stare is serious, almost mournful. “I wanted a moment of quiet to say goodbye.”
I nod, understanding so much more of what he isn’t saying. “Thank you.”
The words are wholly inadequate to express the magnitude of what I feel. I want to say more.Thank you for coming back for me. For acknowledging what we’ve shared. For making me feel seen for once. And for not making the goodbye harder than it already is.
He opens his arms to me, and I, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, go to him. We hug. I breathe him in. He smells like a patch of sunlight in an otherwise dark forest, and leather and skin. His scent is now somehow mixed with my perfume. My floral and watery notes blend with the dark woods of his essence, creating something new and entirely ours—brief and fleeting, yes, but still unforgettable.
He doesn’t pull away and neither do I. We hold on… to what, I’m not sure. Perhaps to the possibility of what could have been in another life. Or perhaps to the undeniable connection we’ve forged in such a short time. I don’t want to let go. Not yet. Not ever.
It isn’t until a commotion starts back where my brother-in-law’s ex-squad team waits, that we pull apart.
“Those are my people.” Dorian smiles apologetically. “I’d better go.”
I nod, not trusting my voice.
“It was great meeting you, Josie.” I can’t decipher his tone.
I swallow the knife lodged in my throat and force myself to reply, “Same, Dorian.”
With one last wave, he turns the corner. I lean a palm flat against the wall for support and double over as another sharp pain lodges between my ribs—an arrow dipped in the sweetest poison. It’s a bittersweet ache, knowing I met someone who touched my soul in ways I never expected, but also understanding that our time together was never meant to last.
Later that day, when I’m at home and can’t sleep despite having only dozed off for a few hours, I go on an Instagram stalking spree. His profile. Billie Rae’s. Each photo of them together that I scroll past is a little death. My finger hovers over the“unfollow”button, but I can’t bring myself to cut that last tie.
Instead, I search for Dorian’s next concert dates in LA and almost go broke buying tickets for all three nights on the secondary market since they sold out within an hour of sales opening. But I’m determined to see him again, even if it’s from a distance.
* * *
The four-month wait until his first concert lasts forever. Yet the moment the concert begins, I realize the waiting was a mercy compared to the pain of seeing him again. Night one, I stay until the end, my heart a flame that burns higher at every song. Night two, he plays “Call It Mine” for his surprise song—a track he wrote before Billie and the one he chose for me. When he reaches the chorus, I break down so completely I have to leave, the memory of him singing it just for me as a lullaby hitting me too hard.
