Page 38 of Score
“It’s kind of like Sidney’s question inBrown Sugar,” she goes on.
“Not that movie again,” I groan. “We’ve watched it like a dozen times.”
“You love it as much as I do.”
“No one loves that movie as much as you do.”
“Anyway, you know how Sid always asks everyone she interviews when did you fall in love with hip-hop?” She shrugs. “What would you save in a fire is kind of my question.”
Considering everything she lost in a fire, this isn’t theoretical to her and I should take it seriously.
“Shit.” I blow out a long breath “That’s tough.”
“I’ll make it easier. Top five. You can save five things.”
“Huh.” I lean back and press the heels of my hands to the floor behind me. “My grandfather’s old Fender. He left it to me when he died, and it’s practically a member of our family.”
“Okay.” She smiles and tilts her head, an indulgent look in her eyes. “What else?”
“MySongs in the Key of Lifeon wax. That album proved Stevie descended from Zeus or something.”
“I’m aware what Stevie Wonder means to you,” she says wryly. “You did change my ringtone to ‘My Cherie Amour.’”
I lean forward and kiss her nose. “I thought it was fitting.”
“Whatever.” She presses a finger into my forehead to push me back. “That’s two. Three more, and will everything be music?”
“Nah.” I rack my brain for a nonmusic item I’d save in a fire. “There’sthis picture. My mom made us take one of those dumb family photos for Christmas postcards or something.”
I glance down at my hands and swallow. “It was a few weeks before the shit hit the fan and all the stuff my dad was doing came out. It’s the last time I remember us feeling like a family, so… I guess I’d save that.”
It’s quiet in the wake of my confession. I hadn’t thought of that photo, but it’s in a drawer by my bed. I rarely take it out, but I know it’s there. I need to know it’s there.
“Three’s enough,” Verity says softly, reaching across the small space separating us to cup my jaw.
I turn my head to kiss her palm and cover her hand with mine. “Come back to bed. You gotta get up soon.”
She casts an anxious glance at the papers strewn all over my living room floor. “But I just hit my stride and I—”
“Need to rest.” I reach over and drag her into my lap, her long smooth legs falling to either side of me. “You’ve barely slept this week.”
“It’s due soon. I need to finish this.” She hooks one arm around my neck and slumps against me. “I got plenty of sleep.”
I brush a thumb over the shadows under her eyes. “These dark circles tell a different story.”
My legs shake because she’s tapping her toes against the floor. Her fingers restlessly twist the hem of the T-shirt she’s wearing, one of mine. She’s practically vibrating in my arms.
“You okay, Vee?” I lift her chin and check her eyes. I know how little sleep she’s gotten, but she seems wired and emits this unrelenting energy so different from the relatively laid-back woman I’m used to.
“Of course.” Her smile is much too bright for three a.m.
“How many Red Bulls have you had this week?” I ask only half jokingly. “I know you got this project due, but—”
“Stop worrying about me.”
“Never.”
I lean forward to kiss her cheek, her nose, her lips. It’s hard to believeI’ve known her less than a year. Sometimes these feelings wash over me, a powerful wave that could drown me if I’m not careful.
