part-time. I wonder who he’s auditioned for, or why he’s still busking for money if he has real gigs.
Sophie takes a seat across from me, and I feel a presence to my left. I look up.
Pierce.
He has a tray of food and an awkward smile on his face—like he’s uncomfortable or something, which is impossible because he doesn’t strike me as a guy who gets uncomfortable.
And he’s pulling a chair over to this two-top table. Oh god, are we the type of friends who share meals together now?
“I hope you don’t mind,” he says.
I sit up straight and shake my head. “No, of course. I’ll make room.”
He takes a seat, and we rearrange our trays and food so there’s enough room on this table for all of us. While he’s unwrapping his tuna melt, I take a second to really look at him. We haven’t spoken much since the kiss, except the occasional text and promise to meet up.
Are we becoming friends?
Are we more?
He’s wearing a bright patterned shirt buttoned all the way to the top. He trimmed his beard down to stubble. Like a magnet, I feel myself pulled into him.
I grip the table to make it stop, but it doesn’t stop.
There’s too much to concentrate on.
First, there’s the feelings.
Second, there’s the “don’t worry, guys, I’m cool” attitude I’m trying to display.
Third, there’s the fact that I have no idea how he feels about me, but I know he’s not exactly the most trustworthy person in the room, plus—
“You okay?” Sophie asks.
“Oh, yeah. Just distracted. Still thinking about today.”
“Sophie showed me your video in Music History,” Pierce says. “That was amazing. I can’t believe you just met Sang and you could play together like that.”
I blush. The kind of blushing that makes your cheek muscles cramp. I couldn’t doubt the connection between me and Sang. I couldn’t doubt the connection between me and Pierce.
Sophie gives me a wink when she sees my face. That’s an unexpected connection too.
This didn’t happen in Kentucky.
Megan and I only had each other for so long. She ripped me out of my shell when my anxiety made me retract, and I gave her perspective when she couldn’t see it. If I was an INFP, idealistic and introspective—which I am, I looked it up—Megan was an ESTJ, pragmatic with an intense sense of right and wrong.
We’ve had so much fun together.
I keep waiting to miss Megan. To feel the ache of our separation—she was my crutch, my bandage holding me together. And now that I’m free from her, I’m making my own friends and people are connecting with me not because of Megan’s self-deprecating humor, but because of me. My humor. My words.
Sophie kicks me under the table. “You are hard-core zoning out right now, Mart.”
“Sorry,” I say. “Didn’t sleep well last night. Is it possible to still be jet-lagged one week later?”
Pierce’s bare knees are touching mine. Deep breaths. I eat a crisp. Normal, normal. I am so acting normal right now.
“Sang was the golden child of his year, but even so, there was so much emotion in your playing,” Pierce goes on. “People were literally throwing money at you. It was brilliant.”
“I have to agree,” Sophie says. “This is what I was telling him stands out—on YouTube, on portfolios, whatever. A classical guitar slash oboe duet on the London Underground? Fucking smashed it.”
I smile, and the tension in me releases slightly.
We eat in silence for a bit, listening to the ambiance of the restaurant around us. I try one of Sophie’s crisps, because it’s a sweet chili flavor I’ve never seen in the States. Pierce’s attention drops toward his own food, and it takes me a second to understand what he’s doing. He inspects the nutrition information of his tuna melt with a disapproving glare.
“There’s so much fat in this,” he says distractedly as he takes a bite. “It’s basically all mayo. No wonder I can never eat the whole thing. Oh well, can’t be too choosy.”
It’s a quick observation, one that he seems to make without much thought. Sophie and I meet eyes, and neither of us seems to know how to respond in any meaningful way. I self-consciously shield the remnants of my own, fully eaten, tuna melt from his view.
“Anyway, I have a proposition,” Pierce announces. “Completely unrelated to this conversation.”
We both turn to him, and Sophie’s eyebrow is cocked.
“Dani’s got a car. We’re going to Cardiff with Ajay, and we got an Airbnb in the Welsh countryside for cheap,