Like Gravity(66)

“BROOKLYN, BROOKLYN, BROOKLYN,” the crowd screamed.

“Go!” Lexi cajoled, giving me a push from behind and sending me toppling off my chair in the direction of the stage.

Fuck.

I moved through the dense crowd, the spotlight following my every step, and club-goers parted around me like I was freaking Moses navigating the Red Sea. I kept my eyes locked on Finn’s as I neared the stage, and felt Lexi’s presence hovering close behind me, her hand clasped tight around mine.

Traitor or not, the girl always had my back.

As we ascended the stairs and found ourselves on stage, Lexi leaned forward so her mouth brushed my ear. “Thank god I took the time to curl your hair. And you wanted to wear it up in a ponytail, of all things! Can you imagine?!”

Her voice was teasing and affectionate, full of the reassurance I so desperately needed to calm the nervous butterflies swarming in my stomach. My nerves eased slightly as I laughed at her ridiculousness, and I sent her a warm look as she gave my hand a final squeeze of support. She winked as we parted ways, dropping my hand so I could make my way to Finn while she went to stand by Tyler’s drum kit.

The warmth immediately faded from my expression as I turned to look at Finn. He was waiting for me, unbothered by my wrath, with one hand outstretched. I slipped my hand into his and dug my fingernails harshly into his palm.

He didn’t even bother to flinch, the bastard.

“What the hell are you doing, Finn!” I whispered, careful not to project into the microphone. He winked at me, then turned to face the crowd.

“Ladies, gents, here she is – I give you Brooklyn Turner, everybody! Make some noise for her!”

Great, he was ignoring me.

The crowd, however, was not; from the loud, appreciative catcalls and male yells I heard emanating from the audience, it was clear that The Dress was not only appreciated, but a very welcome change from the all-male entertainment Styx usually boasted. I couldn’t help but smile a little.

“Now, like I said earlier, this song is special to me and Brooklyn. You might even say it’s our song,” he said, grinning at me. “Right, princess?”

“We don’t have a song,” I muttered, appalled. I really didn’t like where this was headed. “We aren’t even a couple!” In spite of my growing alarm, I managed to keep my voice low enough that the microphone didn’t project my protests across the club. Finn ignored me, throwing an arm around my shoulder and hauling me close to his side.

“We can’t hear you!” a voice shouted from the crowd.

“Yeah, what’d she say?” another yelled.

“She agreed with me,” Finn told the crowd, his body moving with suppressed laughter. “So, without further ado, for our first performance as a couple…this is Home by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros!”

Couple? What the…what?!

Before I could protest or even fully process the bomb he’d just dropped on me – and approximately three hundred random strangers – Scott, Trent, and Ty started playing the intro notes. My cue to sing was approaching too rapidly to move or think or even breathe – all I could do was react.

Thanking my lucky stars that – due to countless practice runs in my shower – I knew all the words to this song by heart, I took a step out from under Finn’s arm and grabbed the mic stand. If I was going to do this, then I was going to do it right; you just can’t half-ass a song like “Home.”

Looking out over the screaming crowd, I forgot to be mad at Finn. My mind cleared completely, and all that was left was the feel of the microphone gripped in my hand and the utter rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins.

Then even that was gone; I was empty of everything except the lyrics, and I was singing my heart out.

Finn and I traded off verses seamlessly, as if we’d practiced this song together millions of times. In reality, we’d only sung it once – when it played yesterday as we’d painted my bedroom.

The song’s tone was playful, and we laughed as we sang and circled each other on stage, eyes locked on one other rather than the audience. Despite the lightness of our performance, the lyrics conveyed a deeper and infinitely more meaningful message. I didn’t fail to notice what Finn was telling me by selecting this particular song.

Home.

It’s wherever I’m with you.

It was a strong statement to make to anyone, but it was especially powerful for me – a girl who hadn’t had a true home for most of her life. His choice hadn’t been accidental; he knew better than anyone what my life growing up had been like. The bits and pieces I’d revealed had painted him a pretty good picture of my childhood, even if he was still missing some of the more vital details.

So him choosing this song? It wasn’t a coincidence, or an oversight, or a mistake.

It was a declaration. It was an assurance I’d never before been offered. It was a promise that, even though I didn’t have a traditional home with two loving parents, a white picket fence, and a golden retriever in the front yard, it didn’t matter.

He would be my home.

It was in that instant I fell in love with him.

I know people always talk about love like it’s a realization you have one day – a sudden moment of clarity where you realize you’ve been slowly falling in love with that person for days or weeks or months. People talk like it isn’t really falling at all, but instead, a gentle recognition that you’ve already hit the ground.