Youssef
HARMONY: When notes played together create a pleasing effect
She tastes even betterthan I remember. The sounds she makes, the way she moves, the feel of her full lips on mine—I’m completely gone. The apartment could be collapsing around us, and I’d still be sitting here on this couch with my hands in her hair.
Fuck, her hair.
It’s smooth and soft in my fingers, thick enough to tangle my whole hand in the strands. She’s perfect. Everything about her is so fucking perfect.
And she wants me.
She always wanted me.
This was always as real to her as it was to me.
After questioning it for so long, I’m flying on the strongest high I’ve ever experienced. It’s better than the rush of playing for a crowd. It’s better than the moment I get a song just right in the studio after working on it all night. It’s better than music itself.
Itismusic. She’s music. She’s the best song I’ve ever heard.
She takes my bottom lip between her teeth, and I lose it.
“Paige.” My hand slips from her hair and splays across her clavicle, my thumb stroking her throat. “Paige, I...”
I don’t know what to say. There are no words for this. She looks up at me through hooded, hungry eyes, but her cheeks are still damp from crying.
Another wave of rage and sorrow hits.
This should have been ours so much sooner. We shouldn’t have had to go through all this.
“I don’t think I’ve ever felt so incredible and so angry at the same time.”
She nods as a shiver passes through her. “Me too.”
I press my forehead to hers and close my eyes. “But it doesn’t matter.” I’m doing my best to convince us both. “It doesn’t matter. I just care that you’re here. That’s all I care about right now. You’re finally here.”
Here with me. Here in my arms. Maybe it is true that none of it matters, because as I hold her now, I can’t help thinking this is where she was always going to end up.
She keeps her head pressed to mine for a few moments, and the two of us just breathe.
“I wish I could do this whole kissing thing better,” she murmurs after pulling away an inch. “But...” She glances down at her sling between us and chuckles.
“Oh, shit.” I pull back. “Am I hurting you? Are you still sore? We can—”
“Youssef.” Her deadpan expression is so familiar I almost laugh. “I’m fine. I’m just limited in my making out abilities.”
“I would not call what just happened limited.” I lift my hand to brush her hair over her shoulder. “I would call that fucking amazing.”
“Wait until I get out of the sling.”
I know it’s just a joke, but a thrill shoots through me even as I laugh. She still wants me around when she’s better. This isn’t a one-time moment.
“Do you want to...um...”
I don’t know what to suggest. I’d be happy to just sit here and stare at her for a few hours. Even that feels like it might overwhelm me.
“Do I want to...?”
A sly note slips into her tone, and before I can ask her what she’s doing, she’s up off the couch and standing in front of me.
