A Cuban Girl's Guide to Tea and Tomorrow - Laura Taylor Namey Page 0,58

tells me then snakes out behind seats to consult with Henry.

My mind catches up to the music. “Was I hearing things, or did parts of a couple of Goldline’s songs seem inspired by Henry’s tunes or the chords?”

Orion nods. “That’s what Jules does. She’s the mash-up queen in her songwriting. She loves to reference old themes in her modern music. That train song you loved is a nod to old English lullabies.”

We turn back when Henry plays a new intro. Jules sings less than two lines into this wood-paneled pub and my mouth falls open. She demos what must be years of training, her classically fierce soprano commanding a timeworn folk ballad.

“This one’s from the sixteenth century,” Orion whispers, leaning in. “ ‘Flow my Tears.’ ”

The tune floods over me. Haunting melody, bittersweet lyrics, and that voice. By verse two, I can’t stop a few of my own tears flowing down my cheek. Orion lays a hand on my shoulder, inviting me under his bent arm. I go without question, the way I fall into my bed. The way my hands curve into a ball of dough. Safe against the cotton of his black pullover, I meld into him.

I peek up at his gentle face, finding I’m not the only one with misty eyes. I’d bet my bakery he’s thinking of his mum, who’d probably love to eat fish and chips and hear Jules sing tonight. I squeeze his side. I know. I get it.

Orion’s lips sweep across the crown of my head as he shifts. Friends do not usually sit like this. Lately, I always seem to be touching Orion Maxwell. It doesn’t matter that my days are few here. He seems to always be touching me back, every single one of those days. With who I am, and where I’ve been, and where we live, what could it ever mean? What does it mean right now?

* * *

After more music and “pudding” and goodbyes, Orion and I are halfway to Millie before he halts. “It’s nice out, yeah? Want to walk back and Dad can ride the bike home?”

I nod. “He rides Millie too?”

He leads us down the little side lane pocket off High Street. “She was Dad’s when he was my age.”

I smile at the image, but my insides still scatter with questions. From corner table to concrete pavement, he hasn’t let go. His elbow hooks into mine, our heads tipped so closely we can easily chat over the whirl of traffic and commerce. But Winchester is perfectly small. It’s not long before we merge into St. Cross with only the noises of trees.

And I can’t stand it anymore. I’ve forgotten to remember I’m bold. I command kitchens! Can’t I take command of a question? Bold, that’s who I am. I’m not a helpless wonderer. “Orion.”

“Lila.” A rumble against my side as we step and step and step.

“What are we doing?”

“We’re walking home, love.”

One adorable word and my bold splinters. “No. You and me. What… is this?”

Orion stops, swinging around to face me. But he is still so close because that’s all we are lately. A jester dances across his face; ugh, he knew exactly what I was onto before. Cheeky-ass ass!

“Okay maybe we do need to hash out a few things,” he says.

I nod.

“First and always, you are my friend.”

“You’re mine.”

“Good, that’s good.” He smiles. “But how we are, the way we…”

“Yeah, all that. I mean friends don’t…”

“No, they don’t. So that means we’re…” He says this to the sky, stars paled by yellow streetlight.

“But.”

Pero.

And there it is. One syllable in his language, two in mine.

“But, indeed,” he says, back to me. “See this is where I’m terribly stuck.” He reaches out to touch my forearm, elbow to wrist. “If this were normal or usual…”

We’re not completing sentences, yet I comprehend pages full. “Right. Only it’s not. Normal.”

His hand drops into mine. “Not at all. I understand what you’ve been through and all you lost. I also get your ticket was never one-way.”

Miami. The third heart on this pavement, trying to love me harder.

“But you and me,” I say. “I really like us and I’m having fun—”

He braces my shoulders. “I like us, and I’m having loads of fun. Way too much to walk away now.”

“Don’t?” Don’t leave me too.

“No, Lila.” He hugs me to seal it and stays to say, “So let’s do this. Let’s create a new category for our kind of us. We don’t have to define it. We’ll leave it blank and take things