A Thousand Boy Kisses(49)

Rune sat still, saying nothing.

This time I didn’t try to talk. It was clear that Rune had slipped back into a mood. But nowadays, I wasn’t sure how to bring him out of it. If I even could. I turned to watch the world outside as we drove. I had no idea where we were going, the excitement making it impossible to sit still.

Suddenly hating the quiet in the car, I leaned over to the radio and switched it on. I flicked the dial to my favorite channel; the harmonies of my favorite girl band filled the car.

“I love this song,” I said happily, sitting back in my seat as the slow piano melody began filling every corner of the car. I listened to the opening bars, singing along quietly to the stripped-back acoustic version of the song. My favorite version.

I closed my eyes, letting the heartbreaking lyrics flow into my mind and out through my lips. I smiled when the string section struck up in the background, deepening the emotion with its dulcet sounds.

This was why I loved music.

Only music had the ability to steal my breath, and give life to the song’s story so flawlessly. So profoundly. I opened my eyes and found Rune’s face had lost all anger. His blue eyes were watching me, as much as they could. His hands were tighter on the wheel, but there was something else in his expression.

My mouth grew dry as he glanced at me again, his face unreadable. “It’s about a girl who desperately loves a boy, with her whole heart. They keep their love a secret, but she doesn’t want it to be that way. She wants the world to know that he’s hers and she’s his.”

Then, to my utter surprise, Rune rasped, “Keep singing.”

I saw it on his face; I saw his need to hear me.

So I did.

I wasn’t a strong singer. So I sang it soft, I sang it true. I sang the lyrics, embracing every word. As I sang the song about love requited, I sang them with heart. These lyrics, these passionate pleas, I had lived.

Still lived.

They were Rune and me. Our separation. My foolish plan: to keep him out of my life, to save him from pain, unexpectedly wounding both of us in the process. Loving him from here in America, him loving me from Oslo, in return, in secret.

When the last lyric faded, I opened my eyes, my chest aching from the rawness of the emotions. Another song began to play, one I didn’t know. I could feel Rune’s watchful gaze boring into me, yet I couldn’t lift my head.

Something was making it impossible.

I let my head roll against the headrest, and I stared out the window. “I love music,” I said, almost to myself.

“I know you do,” Rune answered. His voice was firm, strong and clear. But in that tone, I caught a hint of tenderness. Of something gentle. Caring. I rolled my head to face him. I didn’t say anything as our eyes met. I simply smiled. It was small and timid, but Rune let out a slow breath as I did.

We made a left and another left, taking us down a dark country road. My eyes never left Rune. I thought about how truly beautiful he was. I let myself imagine how he would look in ten years’ time. He’d be broader, I was sure. I wondered if his hair would still be long. I wondered what he’d be doing with his life.

I prayed that it would be something to do with photography.

Photography brought the same soul-enhancing peace to him as my cello did to me. Since he’d returned, though, I hadn’t seen his camera once. He said it himself, he didn’t take photos anymore.

That made me sadder than anything.

Then, I did the one thing I had told myself long ago I would never allow—I imagined what we would look like in ten years’ time, together. Married, living in an apartment in Soho, New York. I would be cooking in our cramped kitchen. I’d be dancing to music playing from the radio in the background. And Rune would be sitting at the counter watching me, taking photos as he documented our lives. And he’d reach out from behind his lens to run his finger down my cheek. I’d swat his hand away playfully and I’d laugh. That would be when he’d click the button on the camera. That would be the shot I’d see later that night waiting for me on my pillow.

His perfectly captured moment in time.

His perfect second. Love in still life.

A tear fell from my eyes as I held onto that image. The image that could never be us. I allowed myself a moment of feeling the pain, before I hid it deep. Then I let myself feel happy that he would get the opportunity to fulfil his passion and become a photographer. I’d be watching on from my new home in heaven, smiling with him.

As Rune concentrated on the road, I let myself whisper, “I’ve missed you … I’ve missed you so, so much.”

Rune froze, every part of his body becoming still. Then he hit the turn signal and pulled over onto the edge of the road. I sat up, wondering what was happening. The engine purred beneath us, but Rune’s hands slipped from the wheel.

His eyes were downcast, hands lying on his lap. He momentarily gripped his jeans, then he turned his head to face me. His expression was haunted.

Torn.

But it softened when he fixed his gaze on me, and said in a rough whisper, “I’ve missed you too. So damn much, Poppymin.”

My heart lurched forward, taking my pulse along with it. They both raced, they both made my head dizzy as I drank in the honesty in his graveled voice. The beautiful look on his face.

Not knowing what else to say, I laid my hand on the center console. My palm was facing up, fingers open. After several silent seconds, Rune slowly placed his hand in mine and we linked our fingers tightly together. Shivers ghosted through my body at the feel of his large hand holding mine.