Page 77 of Tell Me When It's Over

He blinks.

Then blinks again.

Slowly.

“You want to hear the song?”

“The one you’re working on.”

“How do you—”

“Because I know you,” I tell him, knowing where this is going. “I’ve always known you, remember?”

I know that he can’t look people in the eye when he’s lying, and I know that his eyebrow twitches when he’s uncomfortable. He tugs on his ear when he’s trying to get out of a conversation, usually with his annoying agent, and there’s a…a kind of light in his eyes whenever he’s onto something brilliant. Music. Heartfelt lyrics. His eyes, those pretty, warm, melted chocolate hues, have had an extra spark since he and Gordy have

been going off together for their secret meetings.

Ky takes another second before nodding, standing, and offering me his hand. “My room?”

Giddiness makes me forget any hurt feelings he caused for forgetting about today. He leads me to his room and gestures toward the bed while he grabs his acoustic guitar from where it sits in the corner. I can’t help but smile, probably looking like a huge dork, but not caring. I get to hear Kyler Bishop, the Kyler Bishop, sing to me on my birthday. Most girls would kill for this experience. I’d know—I’ve seen the comments on his Instagram account.

It takes him no time at all to set up and give me one last look to see if I’m ready before strumming the first chords. And they’re…they’re so beautiful as the song begins and progresses that I think I forget to breathe.

But when he opens his mouth?

I’m gone.

So gone for this boy and his talent and the raw, gritty tone to his voice as he sings about something that sounds so grueling and helpless but romantic and needy, and I think…God. I don’t know what to think.

By the time he finishes, tears prickle my eyes. He looks at me and frowns. Before he can ask what’s wrong, I tell him, “Play it again.”

And he does.

When he finishes singing for a third time, I’m lying on my side on his bed, hands curled under my cheek like a makeshift pillow, watching him closely. His eyes are closed because he’s as lost in the song as I am, and I know then how much he missed this. Singing. Performing. Loving every word that passes through his lips.

“I forgive you,” I whisper when there’s no more sound between us besides the drumming of my heart.

His eyes crack open as he watches me, an unsure look on his face. I don’t know why he thinks I have it in me to stay mad, but deep down I’m sure he knows I don’t. Like always, he beats himself up over things that sometimes we can’t control. Life gets busy. People get forgotten. I’m as guilty as he is for losing touch.

“The song is beautiful, Ky.” My eyes get heavy as I blink at him, thinking about what a hit that will be.

“Thanks, Len.”

I hum out something before lulling myself to sleep, only waking up sometime later when the lights are off, the room pitch black, and something tugs on my hand.

Another hand.

Kyler’s.

His soft, even breathing on the other side of me tells me he’s sleeping.

Sleeping while holding my hand.

And it’s…it’s a lot of things that I don’t let myself think about, because those thoughts are dangerous and confusing.

Dangerous because they’re confusing.

I should slip out and back to my room.

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