Page 59 of Versions Of Us

Now I’m both reckless and pissed off. I know I can’t really blame Katie for not wanting to interact with me. Thousands in her position would do the same.

I look back out the window at Kristen again. At the way she beams at Mr. Henderson and his dog. I keep watching her, hoping that if I stare at her long enough, the smile she wears will replace the vision of the scowl she’d aimed at me in the car. Since our encounter yesterday, it’s all I can see. The resignation in her eyes expressing the words she couldn’t say.

That she’s completely given up on me.

With nothing to keep my hands busy I feel like I’m going insane. I don’t want to sit still. My fingers tap the edge of the windowsill, a habit I formed the moment I decided to learn the drums. I shift slightly, my eyes landing on the drum kit in the corner of the loft.

I need to play.

I know Dylan will be pissed at me if it bothers the handful of customers downstairs, but the sweet release I know it will give me to play outweighs the risk. I need to hit something and better it be this instrument than anything else. I’m full of pent-up aggression and this is the safest way to get it out of me.

I collect a pair of sticks from the top drawer of my dresser and take a seat on the stool. I stare at the kit in front of me, knowing full well it’s going to sound like shit, and not just because Kristen attacked the bass drum with her boot, but because it’s been over six months since I’ve played. But this instrument has always been an escape for me, a way to transport my mind somewhere else, and in this moment, I crave it.

I tap the drums randomly, getting a feel for their sound again. Then I form a beat. It’s slightly out of time at first, but I soon get a feel for the rhythm again as the tempo builds.

Drumming provides the perfect distraction, filling my head with a myriad of things all at once. A drummer’s mind is always ahead. Always thinking about where the next fill or roll needs to be, which beat and which drums need to be played. When I’m drumming my mind is never in the present moment and that’s exactly what I need right now.

I allow the beat to take over me as sweat begins to bead on my forehead. I smile at the familiar ache that burns through my arms and close my eyes, letting the world fall away.

I become so immersed that at first, I don’t hear the shouting. My eyes snap open. And then I see her, waving her arms around, an expression of hostility marring her beautiful features. I lose my grip on the sticks, and they fall to the ground with a clatter.

“What the hell are you doing, Alex?” Kristen stands in front of the drum kit, her hands on her hips. A stance I’m familiar with. She’d always held this position when she was mad at me for something. “You’re scaring away customers from the café. It’s senior’s day, for Christ’s sake! Not to mention, Dylan’s pissed about the noise too.”

Unexpectedly, my lips twitch up in a smirk. I can’t help it. She’s cute when she’s angry and I’ve missed it.

“Sorry,” I manage. “I’ll stop.”

“Good,” she mutters, running a hand through her long, dark hair. “Sounded like shit anyway.”

“Really?” I scoff. “Might have something to do with the fact that you kicked the crap out of the bass drum.”

“I didn’t,” she argues, her eyebrows raised in defiance.

“No?” I question, my grin widening.

“I threw a chair at it,” she deadpans.

“Oh, I see.” I nod, my gaze meeting hers. The glimmer of a smile twists her lips ever so slightly. “And you enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

“I did,” she admits smugly.

I nod again. “Okay. I deserve that.”

“Oh, you deserve a whole lot more.” She storms toward me, full of fiery anger, until her face is mere inches from mine.

My grin fades when I see the hostility she aims at me. “You don’t have to worry. I’ve already paid the ultimate price.”

She takes a step back, her gaze falling to the floor.

“Okay. I’ll bite. What would that be?” she asks, not meeting my eyes.

I move closer to her, noticing the way her chest heaves as I close the space between us. “You.”

“You still haven’t told me where you’ve been.” Her nostrils flare, her jaw jutting out in anger.

I’ve been to hell and back, I want to tell her. I’ve been to places you couldn’t even imagine.

Instead, I simply shrug. “It doesn’t matter.”

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