Page 82 of Walk the Line

“Here we go.”

“What? It’s true!”

“Just tell us when the next play is, bro, now that this appears to be where my life is going, I say. “Oh, and well done.” I give him a brotherly handshake.

“Thanks, man. I feel honoured that you guys dedicated your first date to me.”

“I dedicated our first date to Kaylah,” I correct. “She just happens to like Musical Theatre.”

“But seriously, when is the next one?”

I follow Demetrius’s gaze to a curly haired girl across the room who was on stage with him performing. A sheepish smile crosses his face as their eyes meet, and without even looking at us, he says, “I’ll hit you guys up and let you know. For now, I’ve got my own date to get to.”

He rushes off before he even finishes his sentence.

I would do the same for the girl beside me, so I can’t even be mad at it.

“Yeah, he’s already gone, but just for future reference “break a leg” isn’t really appropriate for a date is it?”

“Unless the date is taking place on a stage where they’re acting, no, beautiful, it’s not.”

“Thought as much,” she says, then leans in to kiss me with full force. I return it with full force. “Thank you again, seriously,” she says. “Best date ever.”

“You know that’s not it, right?”

“What do you mean? What else is there?”

“There’s a whole strip of activities down here. None of them have anything to do with Hockey, and we’re gonna do as many of them as we can.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Seriously. I know how much you hate not feeling present in the world,” I explain. “So let’s start making memories and doing all the things you’ve always dreamed of.”

“Why would someone cut onions in this place?” She says with glossy eyes.

“Who the fuck would bring a kitchen in here?”

“I know, right?”

It’s not just her who needed to start feeling like an active participant in her life. I did too, and tonight, after spending hours doing everything and anything on the streets of London, something healed in us.

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

KAYLAH

I think I’m finally all out of deep breaths to take.

Instead, I try to focus my attention on imagining everyone in the room naked. All that does is paint a strange and funny image in my mind and now I’m trying hard to contain my laughter.

“What are you thinking about?” Julius whispers from beside me, the picture of calmness, a stark contrast to the room filling up every second as people take their seats and cameras click around us.

“I was trying to imagine everyone naked,” I say.

“How’s that going?”

“Immature as fuck.”

“I thought as much. You’ve got this, Captain. But just give me the signal if you need assistance.”