Page 11 of Hard Rock Muse
That hint of wistfulness disappeared, his eyes shuttering closed. I couldn’t catch anything in his eyes anymore. They were now guarded, wary.
I pulled back quickly.
“Maybe we should—” I started to say.
“I think we should—” he said at the same time.
We stopped. An awkward silence fell between us. The tension increased with every silent second and it wasn’t the electrifying tension from only moments before.
Julian averted his gaze and turned back to the piano. I took that as my cue to stand up and shuffle away.
“I think your game worked,” he said. “I’m feeling inspired.”
I gingerly perched on a chair near the piano, close, but not as close as we had been.
“How about we start with you playing and me throwing out some words?” I suggested. “You can tell me whether or not you think they fit.”
“Sounds as good a method as any,” he replied.
As Julian played, I wrote down reams of words related to the concept of life and freedom, hoping that some of them would resonate with him.
After he had played the song several times over, he stopped.
“Need a break?” I asked.
“I could use some food,” Julian said. “Want to go get something?”
Go and get food with my ex? Great idea, why not twist the dagger in my heart even further while I was at it.
But if we were really going to do this, if we were going to work together again, then we needed to get comfortable with each other. We needed to prove we could act professionally.
“Sure,” I said. “I could eat.”
“What do you want to get?”
“Whatever you want,” I said without thinking. “I’ll eat anything.”
“Since when, you picky eater?” Julian cocked his head at me, looking amused.
“I’m fine with whatever,” I said.
“I’m not really craving anything,” Julian said. “So you pick.”
“I told you, I’ll eat anything.” I wasn’t going to choose a food and have it be something he didn’t want.
“But what do you feel like?” he pressed.
“I don’t know,” I said, growing uncomfortable. “It doesn’t matter, just pick something you like.” Having him pick was better than me choosing something and risking him being disappointed.
Julian studied me with thoughtful eyes. “You always used to have strong opinions when it came to food.” A small smile graced his face. “You always used to have strong opinions about most things.”
I crossed my arms over my chest defensively. “Why are you pushing me on this? What does it matter?”
“Why don’t we play a game?” Julian said. “We go out. See what restaurants there are. You choose what you think looks good.”
Discomfort slithered across my skin, vibrating in my very bones.
“You’re frowning,” he noted. “This is really bothering you.” Now it was his turn to frown. “What’s so hard about choosing something for us to eat?”
As soon as Julian said it, I had to wonder if it was true. The thought of choosing something for the both of us to eat, the thought of choosing something and risking him not liking it, risking upsetting him, made me want to jump out of my skin, made anxiety spike through me.
Julian was right. I’d always been decisive when it came to stuff like this. I never cared whether or not my choices would make someone upset with me.
I never worried what would happen if they gottooupset with me.
I’d known I’d been affected by all the shit I’d been through, but I hadn’t thought I’d changed this much.
Just how messed up was I?
