“But what?”
“You sound, I don’t know, wistful? You sound like something changed.”
Everything changed. My whole life changed.
“Youssef?” she prompts. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
It’s happening again: that floating feeling, like I’m clawing at the bed just to keep from drifting out the window. It’s the same sensation that’s been taking me over for weeks, the one everyone keeps calling ‘shock’ or ‘imposter syndrome’ whenever I start to bring it up.
Somehow, I know Paige will listen—reallylisten, and even though we’ve already been through a lot today, maybe what I need is to be heard.
“I’m going to sound like a tool,” I admit, “especially to someone like you.”
“Like me?”
“Yeah.” I roll onto my side again. “You know exactly what you want, and you fight for it.”
The way she talks about rising to the top as a DJ is so matter of fact, like there’s no optionbutsuccess.
“And you don’t know what you want?”
“I...I thought I did, but it’s like...It’s like the whole world is telling me to go one way, and there’s this single voice telling me to do something else.”
It sounds a lot like Jacob’s voice, offering me half of Schenkman Studios. I chuckle at the image of Jacob as some sort of little bald angel on my shoulder.
“What?” Paige asks.
“I was just thinking about my boss at the studio. He’s the definition of a crotchety old bastard, but there’s just something about that place. Nobody else gets why I still even work there, but when I’m there I feel...” I shake my head. “It’s crazy. All of this is crazy.”
I wait for her to agree with me, but instead, she bumps her leg with mine. “Hey. It’s not. When you told me you work as a mastering engineer, I could see it so clearly right away. It’s perfect for you. No one hears things the way you do.”
Her praise hits me hard, and I pause to let it wash over me.
“Thank you. That means a lot.” I’ve been holding back on telling anyone about this for so long that it all starts coming out. “Jacob, my boss, he, uh, kind of made me an offer. He’s giving me the chance to buy in and make some of the changes I know would take the place to the next level, but it’s like...I mean, I’m headlining fuckingLuxenext month. If I’m notsupposedto have some huge DJ career, then why is all of this happening?”
“Wait a minute.” Paige sits up a little straighter, her eyes flaring wide. “You’reheadlining Luxe? How the fuck did I missthat? Didn’t they already announce the headliners?”
“The Sunday night act dropped out,” I explain. “You were probably too busy, you know, dealing with the aftermath of getting hit by a car to miss the official announcement.”
“Sunday night?” she repeats. I nod, and she starts laughing. “Damn. It was, like, the highlight of my career to get booked to play their pavilion that night, and you’re fuckingheadlining.”
This is more in line with the reactions I get from other people. I start wondering if I really do sound like a tool to her, but she doesn’t leave me hanging for long.
“Youssef.” She bumps my leg again. “I know this might not come off as the most trustworthy advice, considering...how much I tend to reside on the other side of the spectrum, but maybe you’re letting everybody elseina little too much. You say you’re in the middle of this huge dilemma, but I think maybe...maybe you’re a lot closer to the truth than you realize.”
I stay quiet for a moment, and it hits me. I haven’t felt thisstillin a long time. When I’m with Paige, what she’s talking about feels possible, like I could lay here by her side and let the truth approach us both. I’m grounded, not grasping and desperate but calm as I contemplate my choices: all the ones I’ve made, and all the ones that stretch out in front of me.
Maybe she’s right. Maybe the truth has been here all along, waiting for me like I’ve been waiting for her.
We lay there for so long I turn my head to check if she’s asleep, but her eyes are still open, fixed on the window across from the bed now.
“You’re very wise. Did you know that?” I joke to clear some of the heaviness from the air.
She looks at me and lifts her mouth in a lazy smile. “I have my moments.”
I can’t help it. I raise my finger to trace the edges of her lips. Sometimes she’s so beautiful it hurts. Her eyes close, her breath warm on the pad of my finger as the heat between us starts to build again. I trail my finger along her jaw, down her throat, and all the way to the little hollow between her collarbones.
“Damn it,” she mutters, squirming a little. “Will you please just kiss me again?”
“Paige.” I lean over her and speak the truest words I’ve said all day. “It would be my pleasure.”
