Page 66 of Revel
“What do you think of this?” Revel asks, sliding a notebook across the table toward me. It’s past one in the afternoon, but we’re eating breakfast in a small diner, both of us wearing hats and sunglasses. We look like we’re half-assing witness protection.
Blue eyes that haunt and tease search my own and make my head throb waiting for my response. I look down at the torn pages of his notebook he pens all his songs in. I feel like I’m holding a piece of history and it’s really hard not to turn every page and read his haunting lyrics. It’s brown leather with thick cream paper that reminds me of canvas. Fascinated by his artful handwriting, I run my fingertips over the ink. “Is this our song?”
He nods, cutting into his pancakes. I’ve never seen him eat so much as he is today. His attention shifts to something behind me, and I follow it, finding Ben standing outside, patiently standing watch.
With the notebook still in my hand, my eyes drift to words scribbled on the side under the title “sin.”
Taken from another place and welcomed by a sin
I awakened with a different face
My last ones in the bin
The writing seems to interlace
Let’s watch the way they spin
God, this guy is deep. The way he writes is unparalleled to any other song writer in the industry. I write most of my own songs, but Revel, he’s written everything Revved has produced. Every single word has come from the madness of his mind, and I can’t help but want to reside there to understand him.
The waiter approaches as I trace patterns on the water glass, the water beading beneath my fingertips. “Can I get you anything else?”
Revel hands him the half-empty glass of orange juice next to his plate, his knee bounces beneath the table, his eyes narrowing as he shifts his eyes to the waiter, then quickly away. “Yeah, add champagne to this.”
The man pauses, eyeing Revel. “Hey, aren’t you—”
“Nope.”
Though he hesitates, confused by Revel’s reaction, the waiter leaves, returns with the drink, and then Revel tells him to leave the bottle. We’re celebrating apparently.
I trap my bottom lip between my teeth. “What are we celebrating?”
His gaze flickers to my mouth, his lips parting. “Our song.” He pours me a glass of champagne, then adds more to his. Lifting his glass, he winks. “To the sweetest act of revenge. Not giving a fuck.”
Stifling my laughter, I take a sip of my champagne, setting the glass gently on the table. Revel pours himself another glass. His third of the morning.
Ignoring the obvious, his alcohol addiction, I focus on the notebook again. We’ve been over song lyrics for the past week, but Revel decided to pen out the chorus and write chords with it. He’s taken my heartfelt words I shared with him and woven them beautifully with his, as if we were sharing the same heartache.
Her thorns dig deep but still I’ll keep your lies secret
You were never mine to keep
Why’d it have to be your knife in my back?
If that’s how this goes, it’ll be my gun and your head
Now lie down, it’s the bed you made, suffocate in my silence
I’ll surrender these roses of revenge
I gasp at the last line. “This is amazing, Revel.”
He gets quiet, just staring at me.
I take a deep breath, pulling at the ends of my sweater. “Do you want to perform it on the tour?”
He nods, and it’s my turn to stare at the bloodshot eyes and scruffy jawline. Underneath it all, the alcohol swimming in his veins, he’s still a boy, one who’s been hurt. He gave a girl his love only to have her betray him and these words, his hurt, his act of revenge isn’t just about me. It’s proving to the world no one can truly keep you down.
He holds his hand out to me and I never hesitate to take it, his eyes closing at my touch. I want to say something, anything, but I realize it’s not needed.
