Page 104 of Revel
Despite the awkwardness of millions witnessing our reunion, there’s an undeniable sense of familiarity between us, both confusing and comforting. It’s effortless, the way we come together, our bodies pressed to one another with no hesitation. He leans his forehead against mine and removes his hand from his pocket to touch my cheek. Electricity jolts through every nerve ending inside my body and it’s like I’ve been brought to life again by his touch and his voice as he sings the chorus.
“Take this rose of revenge, what’ll ya make of it? It’s the axe that forgets, the tree remembers.Honey, I’m on my knees.I give you these roses of revenge, I don’t know any other way.”
My mind and heart battle for dominance through the entire song and all I want to do is wrap my arms around him, press my chest into his and kiss him. But I can’t, and I don’t. Instead, we finish the song together, and as the music fades, his hand slips from my body, his eyes heavy on mine.
I want to say so much to him, but there just isn’t time for it once we’re backstage. I try to say something, anything, but we’re pulled apart. I barely have time to take a breath before I’m rushed away to accept my award for Best Rock Album of the Year.
Me. The princess of pop. Can you believe it?
When they say my name, time stops and there’s only one person who holds my stare.
Him.
The one who after everything still sends my heart racing and the spark that sends a flush in my cheeks.
I cry. As does Bella and my mom in the audience. Holding the golden trophy in my hand, I look for meaning and a way to express my gratitude. At first, nothing comes to mind. A thank-you seems insignificant.
My hands shake as I look out at the audience again. I should have written a damn speech, but I’ve always been a firm believer in speaking from the heart. Swallowing over the lump in my throat, my voice wavers. “This was the first album I did for me. I wrote every lyric. I produced it and in a lot of ways, I feel like this is my debut album because this is the first one I ever had a say in. I did it for me.” I stare down at the award, tears flowing like water works. “I created something that truly represents me and though I’m grateful for everyone who supported me, I’m even more appreciative for you accepting me for who I am. Someone once told me, you have a voice. Use it for you, and only you. You owe it to yourself to create your truth.” My eyes find his for the first time. With his elbows propped up on the arms of the chair, his hands clasped in front of his mouth are holding the smirk at bay. In true Revel fashion, he winks at me. My heart bursts with adoration for him. “I’m not sure he knows how I feel about him, but I couldn’t have done it without you.” And then I raise the Grammy, to him.
There’s no smile. No emotion. Nothing. He’s still incredibly good at hiding his emotions from me. His eyes drop from mine, his jaw tight and if I had to guess, he’s shaking, but I can’t tell for sure. He doesn’t look up again.
Revel wins for Best Song of the Year for “Roses of Revenge,” and though he’s never been one to give a speech, the front man rises from his seat next to Cruz. Looking over his shoulder, he smiles in my direction and gives me a nod to join him on stage.
I do, but as I’m walking up there, his hand in mine, I think about all the things he said to me on that tour, the words that have been ingrained in every part of me since we parted.
“Tastes like sweet cherry pie.”
“Don’t bite the apple, Red.”
“I want to keep you the way you are, princess. Innocent and untouched.”
“You’ve never been touched by me.”
“Your heart makes my favorite sound.”
“No one calls you princess but me.”
“It’s precious. The way you think I give a goddamn.”
Sometimes walking away is the greatest act of love you can give yourself. I still believe that, and even more so now looking at Revel standing on a stage with me, his head bowed to a Grammy looking for something to say.
It’s then the fall seems worth it. Revel holds up the Grammy, his head drops as an uneasy silence falls with the wavering of his voice when he says, “This should really go to you, Red.”
His eyes hold mine and every single person in the room cheers. And I’m crying again. On stage. I’m angry and sad. I hate that it didn’t work for us the first time and that we didn’t have our happy ever after. I also knew, deep down, maybe he wasn’t capable of offering it. A girl like me, I don’t love casually. I love as fiercely and feistily as the hair on my head. Without a doubt, I still love him, and I have no idea where this leaves us.
You think we have an interaction backstage, don’t you? We won a Grammy together and performed, we should at least be able to talk at some point, right? Nope. I don’t see him again until the afterparty. It doesn’t surprise me, but at first he pretends I’m not there, or that he doesn’t see me. The only indication I have that he knows I’mhereis the tensing of his body anytime my name is mentioned in passing.
I’m standing in a line waiting to be interviewed, Bella beside me Facetiming her baby who can barely hold his own head up, let alone talk to her.
The faces and voices around me hold no meaning, until “Princess” is whispered in my ear.
God, the way my name sounds on his lips. . . I close my eyes, taking a deep breath and letting the sound wash over me.
I turn, his smile igniting my own. Do you notice his cup? It’s water. I smile. I look at his eyes, the blue, the clearness to them. “You’re sober.” It’s not a question, but he nods. “It looks good on you.”
His gaze falters, then returns, so intense that it makes me think I’ve upset him. He shakes his head and my blush deepens. The weariness eases from his face. “You deserve it,” he whispers, his eyes moving around the room, no doubt looking for an exit. Formal events had never been his thing. And then I think about his words,you deserve it.Is he talking about him being sober, or the Grammy? I’m not sure of the answer, but I don’t ask for clarification either. I like to think maybe it’s both.
The moment his body moves away I crave the heat. My fingers itch to pull him back, but I know I can’t. Maybe we had our chance. Just because he didn’t love me the way Prince Charming would have, doesn’t mean it wasn’t real. He’s like a storm. A raging one that comes out of nowhere. And after the storm when his winds ceased, I just wanted to say I survived. That I loved him through it. That I weathered him. Even when he gave up, even when I didn’t want to, and even when I shouldn’t have, but knew I had to. For him.
