Page 31 of Your Echo
I mimic his posture. “Prove it.”
“Easy. Mine is a combination of whiskey, exclusive party invitations, and getting recognized by people I don’t know.”
Connard.
“Music,” he says quickly, before I can insult him out loud. “For me, it’s music. I can’tnotdo it. I’d go insane. It would rip me apart to not be able to make music anymore. Sometimes...sometimes I feel like it’s what’s holding me together.”
I believe him. I barely even know him, and I can see the way he’s splitting at the seams.
“Mine is dance,” I tell him quietly. “I love to dance.”
I pause and shake my head at the inadequacy of the word.
“Ineedto dance,” I correct myself. “I feel the same—like I’d go crazy if I couldn’t, like I’d just start unravelling until I was this pile of tangled up thread on the floor.Ce n’est pas une—”
I cut myself off as the French words slip out.
“You can speak in French if you want,” Ace offers, “if it’s easier.”
“English is fine,” I snap. My voice is so harsh it comes out close to a bark.
“I just meant—”
I wave off Ace’s explanation. I’m mad at myself, not at him. Sometimes when I talk about something really important, English doesn’t seem like enough.
“It’s okay,” I mutter. “I’ll see you on Monday, all right?”
