A Wish for Us by Tillie Cole
One I’d made just for her.
The manager was up my arse the second I walked in the place. Apparently it was a sellout. I’d go on at midnight. It wasn’t far off.
“I’m gonna get shots,” Easton said, flashing his fake ID at Bonnie and me before leaving us alone in the ridiculous-sized dressing room. Couches, a TV—even a bed sat in the corner. It was a good venue. I didn’t feel nervous about playing; I never did. But I was nervous about having Bonnie beside me on the podium.
Nervous about what she’d think of the new mix I’d made for her.
Bonnie sat down on the couch and rubbed her hand over her face. She was pale. But she looked good. She was wearing black flowery high-waisted trousers and a white long-sleeved top that showed off every inch of her curves. Her hair was in a high ponytail, and I wanted nothing more than to wrap it around my hand and pull her to my mouth.
I was making sure I had everything lined up on my laptop. The sound of the opening DJs came from outside. Colors, as always, danced before my eyes. But I blocked them out and concentrated on my own set.
“You ready?” Bonnie said eventually. We’d had no time alone since we’d got in the truck.
“Always.” I stared at her. Her hands were fidgeting in her lap. She looked so damn cute. “Farraday.” She looked over. “Get your arse over here.”
Bonnie looked as if she’d refuse, but then she got up off the couch and came to my seat. I shifted over, making enough room for her to sit down too. She hesitated. I groaned and pulled her down by her arm. “For Christ’s sake, Farraday, I had my tongue down your throat twenty-four hours ago. I think you can sit down beside me. It’s not like there isn’t room. You must weigh all of eight stone.”
“What?” she asked, brown eyebrows pulled down. “Eight stone?”
I threaded my arm around her waist, making her yelp. “It means you weigh nothing. Now.” I shifted her close enough that she was pressed against me and my hand could still use my laptop.
“Cromwell.” She sighed. “This isn’t wise.”
“No one ever said I was.” I pointed to my laptop. “My set,” I said. Bonnie’s love for music overrode any complaint she had about being next to me. She stared at the program.
“So these are your tracks?” I nodded. “Then how do you mix them?”
I shrugged. “I judge the crowd. Decide when I’m up there what to play next. See how far I can push them.” I tried to picture the crowd in my mind. “I just do what feels right.”
“You follow the emotion,” she said knowingly. “What you told me last night.”
“Yeah.” I closed my laptop and looked up at Bonnie. Her eyes were already on me. Then they dropped to my lips. “Farraday.” I inched closer and pressed my forehead to hers. “If you don’t want me to take your mouth right now, I’d stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?” she whispered, cheeks flushed.
“Like you want to feel my tongue ring in your mouth again.”
She laughed, the sound causing the violet blue circle I normally saw to spike and pulse with pale pink. “You’re a regular Romeo,” she said jokingly. “Feel your tongue ring again?”
I felt my damn chest expand and my lip hook up at the corner. I pulled her closer and ran my nose down her cheek. Her breathing was shallow and stuttered. My lips nipped her earlobe. “Never claimed to be,” I said into her ear. I moved back, my lips running over her cheeks and to her lips. My eyes were open, wide open, as hers locked on mine. She was breathing hard.
I closed in, forgetting that she told me we could never happen. Just as I pressed my lips to hers, a knock sounded on the door. “Cromwell?” a voice said. “Five minutes.”
I sighed, my head dropping to her shoulder. Bonnie’s hand fell into my hair. “We’d better go.”
I sat up, then before she could argue, I crushed my mouth to hers. She sighed into my mouth, but I pulled away quickly, grabbing my laptop. I held my hand out for hers, and this time, Easton or not, I was going to hold her hand.
Bonnie didn’t resist.
We walked the corridor to the main stage. Some of the workers said hello. I nodded at them. But with every step, I got myself more and more in the game. When we arrived beside the podium, I could hear the crowd. I could hear the shouts and calls. Bonnie’s hand squeezed mine. Her eyes were wide. I kissed the back of her hand and leaned in close. “Sit to the side of the stage. I asked them to put a chair there for you.”
Her eyes melted at that. I had no idea why. I let go of her hand and threw my headphones around my neck. The stage manager waved me on. I took one last look at Bonnie then walked onto the podium. A wave of screams and shouts came crashing at me.
I put the laptop on the decks and opened it up. Like always, I risked one glance at the crowd and drank in the moment. It was like slow motion. The crowd waiting for me to start. I scanned my eyes over the thousands of faces. All looking up at me as if I were a young god. Then I looked to the side. Bonnie was still offstage.
I pointed at the stool that was waiting for her. Bonnie swallowed, her eyes huge. She was so friggin’ cute as she took her first step up onto the podium. I reached down for her hand when she looked unsteady.
She sat down and looked around at the crowd. If her eyes were wide before, now they took up her entire face. I gave her a spare set of headphones, signaling for her to put them on. I wanted her to hear every beat I threw out. I wanted her to soak up the tempos, drink the rhythm, and live the bass.
When she looked back to me, breath held, I lined up the first track, let my hand hover in the air . . . then with a slam of a finger, ripped the fucking roof off the place.
The crowd played right into my hands, all falling for the mix. I moved to the decks and the drum machine and let the colors lead me. It was minutes before I looked at Bonnie. She was watching me so closely, watching my hands create every beat, every track. I didn’t need to look at the laptop, the decks. Instead I met her eyes. When her attention was fully on me, I started mouthing the colors. Peach. Turquoise. Black. Gray. Amber. Scarlet. Tune after tune, I told her what I saw. And she was in it with me. She never moved her eyes away from me, a smile on her lips as I let her see my colors.
Let her see me.
Then, Violet blue, I mouthed. Bonnie’s eyes widened. I glanced down at my laptop and lined up the track I wanted her to hear. The one I couldn’t get out of my head last night. The one that played so loudly in my mind I’d had to get it down.
The words of which she’d had no idea I’d recorded.
Some are not meant for this life for too long. I threaded the opening verse over the beats. The volume was quiet, a crescendo building the second verse. A fleeting glimpse, a silent birdsong. Drums built, violins soft in the background. Then, the drum beat in double time, her voice gaining volume, until I smashed it, bringing the song to its maximum beat, Bonnie’s soft voice pushed to the highest volume, her violet-blue words coating every inch of the room . . .
Some are not meant for this life for too long.
A fleeting glimpse, a silent birdsong.
Souls too pure, they burn out too bright,
Bodies so fragile, losing the fight.
Hearts lose their beats, rhythms too slow,
Angels they come, it’s time to go.
Lift from this place, to the heavens and skies,
Smothered in peace, where nobody dies.
Hope left behind in the ones they have loved,
No longer caged, now wings of a dove.
Wings, white as snow, sprout from my heart.
Wings, spreading wide, now to depart.
Tears in my eyes, I give one last glance.
I lived, and I loved, and danced life’s sweet dance . . .
I layered acoustic guitar chords I’d had stored for years but never used over the top. And Bonnie’s voice sang loud and clear. I mixed it three times, until the next track pushed through the background, replacing the violet blue with lime green.
When
Her chest pressed against mine as my mixes controlled the crowd, making them sway and jump and dance. When Bonnie pulled back, I wasn’t ready. I cupped her cheeks and took her mouth again. Now she’d given me her lips, I never wanted to give them back. The colors shifted to blue, heading for navy. I pulled away and walked back to the podium. The crowd went insane. I glanced down and saw Easton at the front, eyes closed, some girl hanging off his arm. He had two bottles of beer in his hands, just feeling the beat.
I slowed it right down. The lighting technician took my cue and brought the flashing lasers to a soft white glow, dimming the brightness. The smoke that had been pumped out all night hovered in the air, suffocating the dormant white beams. I held my hand in the air, the crowd waiting for my call. The slow beats calmed their slamming hearts; the long low notes brought their pulses to normal. I heard my breath echo in my ears. I felt the heat from their bodies slam into mine, felt their readiness to be brought back to the high only I could give them.
My fingers waited; the technician waited for his cue. I looked at Bonnie to see her on the edge of her seat, waiting for me too. I smiled to myself, feeling so full from the music. Then, when they were ready, when they had taken as much pause as they could possibly take, I slammed my hand down and brought the rain.
The lights dropped, and strobing lasers bathed them in green. The beats drugged them, slaves to my hand. I heard a laugh from beside me and turned to see Bonnie scanning the jumping crowd, their bodies moving as one unit to the heavy bass I gave them like a drug.
I smirked, and gave them more, gave her more, and her hands went in the air and her eyes closed. I paused and just looked at her.
Something settled in my chest that I hadn’t felt in years. Something I never thought I’d find ever again. Silver. I choked at the sight.
Happiness.
My hand slipped from my laptop, waking me the hell up. I refocused on the set, but that silver never left me. It was branded on my brain. Its color as strong as if it’d been gilded, like a crest, onto my mind.
The whole time I played, Bonnie sat, a smile on her face, and watched me. And all the time violet blue and silver warred for dominance in my mind. I flicked my hand off the laptop, the final beat glittering on a sphere until it faded into nothing toward the back of the room.
The house DJ took over. I picked up my laptop, holding my hand up for the screaming crowd. Sweat beaded on my forehead, but adrenaline surged through my veins. I turned to Bonnie. Her face was flushed and, despite the time, her eyes were bright. I slipped the headphones off her head, tucked my laptop under my arm, then lifted Bonnie off the stool. Her hands came down on my biceps as I dragged her down my chest until her feet hit the floor. I took her hand and led her off the podium and into the corridor. I didn’t care if anyone was around. I didn’t give a damn if anyone saw. I walked Bonnie up to the wall. The minute her back was against the brick, I smashed my mouth to hers. Bonnie was just as eager as me. Her hands threaded into my hair, yanking on the strands to get me even closer. My blood sang with the music I’d poured from my body for the past three hours.
Bonnie gasped against my mouth, but I needed to taste the sweetness that always burst on my tongue whenever we kissed. I traced my tongue down her neck. “Cromwell,” she whispered. The sound of my name from her lips only spurred me on.
Bonnie grabbed my head and brought me back to her mouth. I wasn’t sure how long we kissed, but she broke away again, struggling to breathe. My hand flattened against the wall. Hers were on my chest. She breathed and breathed, and I let her catch her breath. When she’d calmed, she spoke only two words: “My song.”
“Your song.” I’d never put lyrics to my mixes before. Never felt the need . . . until her.
The sound of the door opening was like thunder in the corridor. I stepped back from Bonnie just as Easton stumbled through. “Fucking Cromwell Dean!” A girl trailed behind him. Easton wrapped his arms around me. “That set!” He looked at Bonnie. “Bonn . . . your song.”
She smiled at her brother. “It was amazing.”
I patted Easton on the back. “Let’s go.”
Easton shook his head and threw his arm around the girl standing behind us. “Going back with Emma. She goes to the college here.”
“How are you going to get back?” Bonnie asked.
“Bonn, it’s an hour back home. I’ll get the bus tomorrow sometime.” He looked at the blonde in his arms. “Or maybe Monday.” He shrugged. “Just gotta see what happens.”
Easton backtracked the way he came, back into the club. Bonnie watched after him, concern on her face. “He’ll be okay,” I said and took her hand in mine.
Bonnie gave me a tight smile, but she let me lead her back toward the dressing room. We grabbed our stuff then made our way to my truck. As soon as we were inside, the air in the cabin thickened.
“Well?” I turned to Bonnie. She was already watching me, an unreadable expression on her face. “What?”
“I get it now.” She wrapped her arms around her waist.
“You cold?”
“A little.” I reached for my black jumper and handed it to her. She smiled and slipped it on. It drowned her small frame. She closed her eyes and smelled the collar. “It smells like you.” She opened her eyes. I waited for what else she would say. I turned the engine on and let the heater heat up the car.
“How?” Bonnie’s voice cut through the white noise as I pulled onto the road. I glanced at her, eyebrow raised. “How did you get my song?”
“The museum,” I said. “When you sang, I recorded it on my phone.”
She frowned. “Last night?” I nodded. “But how did you get it on a track?”
“I stayed up all night to do it.”
She sighed. “You’ve complicated things for me, Cromwell Dean. You were never meant to complicate things.”
I laughed a single laugh. “I am complicated. I’ve been told that enough times.”
Bonnie didn’t laugh though. Instead she shifted beside me and laid her head on my shoulder. I wasn’t sure if she was asleep, but when I looked at her in my rearview mirror, she was staring straight forward. I narrowed my eyes, wondering what the hell was wrong. But then she wrapped her arm around mine and held on.
I wanted her to talk. I wanted her to say something, but she didn’t. I thought on what she’d said. How I complicated things. I knew I was messed up. I knew I was a moody bastard, that I blew hot and cold. But I had a feeling that wasn’t what she meant.
An hour later, we pulled onto the campus, and I headed in the direction of her dorm. I’d barely made it a few yards when she whispered, “No.”
“What?”
Bonnie paused. “Go to your dorm.”
Confused, I looked at her in the rearview mirror. Her brown eyes were already on mine.
“Go to your dorm, Cromwell.” There was a shake to her voice. Her cheeks blazed and she held my arm tighter. “If . . . if you want to.”
It took me a second to catch on.
“Bonnie,” I said and felt her hold her breath. I read her face and saw the fear in her eyes. But not fear of what she was asking. Fear of me saying no.
That was never going to happen.
“You sure?” I asked.
“I want to,” she whispered. “I want you.”
My hands were tight on the steering wheel all the way to my parking spot outside my dorm. When I killed the engine, Bonnie didn’t move. I put my hand under her chin and forced her to look up. I cupped her cheeks. “You don’t have to do this
“I want it, Cromwell. I want this.” She laughed. “I never want this night to end.” She lowered her eyes. “Please don’t make me beg.”
“You don’t need to beg.” I shook my head. “I want it too. So bad.”
I got out of the car. I came around to the passenger side for Bonnie. I held out my hand, and, like she always did, she held on tightly as I guided her out. We walked slowly back to the dorm. Bonnie was walking slower than normal.
“You good?” I said, checking that she was okay, that she still wanted to do this.
She smiled at me, her hand tight in mine. “More than good.”
The dorm was silent as we entered. When I closed the door of my room behind us, the air felt thick. Bonnie stood in front of me, my jumper practically to her knees. I stepped closer and took her face in my hands. Her brown eyes were huge as she looked up at me.
I lowered my mouth to hers and kissed her. Bonnie sighed into my mouth, and her tense body relaxed. I kissed and kissed her, then broke away.
“Bonnie—”
“I want this,” she said again. Bonnie walked to the light switch and flicked it off. The room was plunged into darkness, all except the light from my desktop computer. Her face was shadowed, but when she turned toward me, I could see her eyes in the blue light.
I let her take the lead. She took my hand and led me to my bed. She sat on the edge then shuffled up until she lay on my pillow. I stopped and stared. The sight of her looking so small and nervous on my bed hit me like a ton of bricks. Her lips were parted, her ponytail splayed on my pillow.
Bonnie slowly held out her hand. Her fingers were shaking. I took hold of her hand and crawled over where she lay. I pushed her hair from her face. In the dark, it was hard to make her out. But her eyes were visible. That was all I needed.
I moved my head down and kissed her. Bonnie’s hand was still in mine. She didn’t let go. She just held on. I kissed her lips. I kissed her until she needed breath. Then I kissed down her throat. I kissed over her shoulder, where my jumper had slipped down her arm.
When I ran out of skin, I lifted my head and met Bonnie’s eyes. “I’ve . . . I’ve never done this before,” she confessed.