Page 51 of The Sound Between Us

She just looks at me. Walls, steel-reinforced. “Isn’t it?”

I pull on my jacket. The space between us now wide and echoing. “I didn’t mean it that way. What Henry said⁠—”

“But you didn’t correct him. You agreed with him. You said it was stupid.”

Her voice doesn’t break. That’s what makes it worse.

I move toward her, desperate now. “Last night meant everything.”

She steps back. “Yeah. It meant I let someone in who doesn’t live here; who doesn’t stay.”

Silence thickens.

Then, finally, I lean in. Press a kiss to her cheek. She doesn’t move; doesn’t soften. Just lets me do it as though she’s indulging a child.

“Remember me.” Quietly, pathetically.

Her eyes meet mine. “You’re not that easy to forget.”

And for a second—just a second—I swear there’s something there. Something cracking. But then⁠—

“Oh.” She calls after me as I reach for the door, voice winter-sharp. “If you’re looking for lyric inspiration next time, maybe try not fucking the girl first. Keeps it a bit more believable.”

I turn.

But she’s already gone.

Back to her tea; her silence. Her self-preservation.

And that’s how I get thrown out of a girl’s flat for the first time in years. Not because I fucked up the sex—but because I fucked up the morning after.

I step outside.

And, of course, it’s raining.