Read Online One (One Universe) by LeighAnn Kopans - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: LeighAnn Kopans
Tags: english eBooks
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must be getting bored, I think, but I don’t really care. Then, all of a sudden, a low chord progression plays over and over again to my drumbeats. I look up for a split second through the blur of the sticks, which are now playing at exactly the same rhythm as my heartbeat.
Elias is standing there in his t-shirt and jeans, having shed his bulky sweatshirt, holding a deep blue electric, playing along with me.
A grin so wide spreads across my face that I swear my cheeks will crack off and fall onto the floor. I don’t even know why Elias playing along makes me so happy, only that I start to bounce my shoulders on purpose now and play a little faster.
Elias keeps right up. He grins now, too, and as our eyes meet, I start to drum more gently, letting him riff. His fingers are moving so fast right at the base of the guitar’s neck that I almost want to stop my drumming so that all I have to do is listen to him play, but I don’t want to make him stop. I close my eyes, feel my body move almost of its own accord, feel it absorb the drums’ vibrations, and let the sound of us playing — together — wash over me.
A lump rises in my throat, and something hot and wet slides down my cheek. I’m crying. I’m playing the most beautiful drums ever and crying.
A second after I realize it, I decide I don’t even care.
For the first time, I don’t have to drown someone out. Elias is meeting me where I am. He’s the only person who’s ever been willing to do that — able to do that. Now that he has, I’m not so sure what to make of him anymore.
Elias stops playing and basically ditches the guitar on the floor. He crosses the room to me in a handful of long strides. He’s looking at me like he wants to touch me but doesn’t know where or how. I let the sticks clatter on the floor and stand up, turning toward him.
It’s almost painful how far back I have to tilt my head to look at him. He stands there, looking at me, his eyes a little worried, and he’s so close that all I need to do is lean my head forward and I could just fall into him.
My stomach feels tight but I don’t know if it’s from embarrassment or nervousness or him being so close to me or me wanting to be closer to him.
It takes me a split second to figure it out. I let my head fall, and then his arms are around me, letting me decide how close he holds me. Breathing in the scent of his t-shirt — sunshine and aftershave and detergent — is the only thing that could stop my tears now. I step closer to him.
He’s touching me, body against body in so many more places than I ever imagined letting a boy ever touch me. But it’s warm and okay. The feel of his skin and bones reminds me that he’s just a boy, a sweet one. Not a threat.
I sniffle, and I’m horrified at myself, but something about being in his arms is so warm and wonderful that I start to laugh. It’s not a giggle, and it’s not nervous. It’s relief, to be standing here in this room being held by a boy who understands me without words.
He laughs, too, and we stay there for a long moment. He pulls back and looks down at me.
“Mom really wanted me to take lessons,” he says, his voice low. “I didn’t have the heart to tell her when I finally decided I wanted to quit. You?”
I laugh once. “Pent-up anger, I guess. Sucking at being a Super pissed me off more than anything else. No one cares if you beat drums, so…”
He laughs again, and he’s so close I can feel his breath. His eyes focus on some part of my face in such a strange way for the briefest instant. Then, like a switch has been flipped, he stands up straighter, takes the slightest step backward. I try not to make my breath too audible.
“We’ve, uh… I’ve gotta be back,” he says, his voice gentle and affectionate. He motions toward the door at the back of the room, which leads outside. “Let me walk you to your car.”
I’m suddenly shy, but I have to say it. “Only if you promise I can come back. You
Elias is standing there in his t-shirt and jeans, having shed his bulky sweatshirt, holding a deep blue electric, playing along with me.
A grin so wide spreads across my face that I swear my cheeks will crack off and fall onto the floor. I don’t even know why Elias playing along makes me so happy, only that I start to bounce my shoulders on purpose now and play a little faster.
Elias keeps right up. He grins now, too, and as our eyes meet, I start to drum more gently, letting him riff. His fingers are moving so fast right at the base of the guitar’s neck that I almost want to stop my drumming so that all I have to do is listen to him play, but I don’t want to make him stop. I close my eyes, feel my body move almost of its own accord, feel it absorb the drums’ vibrations, and let the sound of us playing — together — wash over me.
A lump rises in my throat, and something hot and wet slides down my cheek. I’m crying. I’m playing the most beautiful drums ever and crying.
A second after I realize it, I decide I don’t even care.
For the first time, I don’t have to drown someone out. Elias is meeting me where I am. He’s the only person who’s ever been willing to do that — able to do that. Now that he has, I’m not so sure what to make of him anymore.
Elias stops playing and basically ditches the guitar on the floor. He crosses the room to me in a handful of long strides. He’s looking at me like he wants to touch me but doesn’t know where or how. I let the sticks clatter on the floor and stand up, turning toward him.
It’s almost painful how far back I have to tilt my head to look at him. He stands there, looking at me, his eyes a little worried, and he’s so close that all I need to do is lean my head forward and I could just fall into him.
My stomach feels tight but I don’t know if it’s from embarrassment or nervousness or him being so close to me or me wanting to be closer to him.
It takes me a split second to figure it out. I let my head fall, and then his arms are around me, letting me decide how close he holds me. Breathing in the scent of his t-shirt — sunshine and aftershave and detergent — is the only thing that could stop my tears now. I step closer to him.
He’s touching me, body against body in so many more places than I ever imagined letting a boy ever touch me. But it’s warm and okay. The feel of his skin and bones reminds me that he’s just a boy, a sweet one. Not a threat.
I sniffle, and I’m horrified at myself, but something about being in his arms is so warm and wonderful that I start to laugh. It’s not a giggle, and it’s not nervous. It’s relief, to be standing here in this room being held by a boy who understands me without words.
He laughs, too, and we stay there for a long moment. He pulls back and looks down at me.
“Mom really wanted me to take lessons,” he says, his voice low. “I didn’t have the heart to tell her when I finally decided I wanted to quit. You?”
I laugh once. “Pent-up anger, I guess. Sucking at being a Super pissed me off more than anything else. No one cares if you beat drums, so…”
He laughs again, and he’s so close I can feel his breath. His eyes focus on some part of my face in such a strange way for the briefest instant. Then, like a switch has been flipped, he stands up straighter, takes the slightest step backward. I try not to make my breath too audible.
“We’ve, uh… I’ve gotta be back,” he says, his voice gentle and affectionate. He motions toward the door at the back of the room, which leads outside. “Let me walk you to your car.”
I’m suddenly shy, but I have to say it. “Only if you promise I can come back. You
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