Track 14: Side A

Manic and I Love It

 

Lincoln

I wake up in a cold sweat. Whatever dream jolted me from my sleep is already fading into wisps I can’t catch, but it was enough to set my heart racing. I sit up and rub my palms over my eyes. Instinctively, I reach toward my nightstand, in search of a bottle of booze or my razors, it doesn’t matter which. I groan in frustration when all I find in the dark is my phone, and I remember I don’t have either of my usual crutches handy.

As my eyes adjust to the dark, I see my guitar case propped up in the corner. I can’t remember the last time I played just to play.

I slide out of bed, wincing as my feet hit the cold floor. I flip the light switch on and grab my guitar and then return to the bed, pulling the blankets around my legs as I lean against the headboard and sit my guitar in my lap.

I run my fingers absently over the strings, enjoying the familiar feel against my calloused fingertips. I slide the pick out from between the strings and I strum inattentively, just letting the music wash over me.

I haven’t written a song in years that didn’t go immediately into the trash once I finished it, nine years to be exact. The last song I wrote was “Crimson Tiles.” That’s not true. The last song I gave to the studio was “Crimson Tiles”, the last song I wrote was “Freckles.”

I close my eyes and recall the dreamy melody of a song about naming each freckle on a lover’s body. The words tumble from my lips from memory. I never let anyone else hear this song, but I played it a thousand times in the dark of my apartment, with a bottle and a razor on my nightstand to chase away the pain.

It’s more hope than pain I’m feeling tonight as the song flows from me. I know Jace believes in fate, and so do I. What are the odds we would both be here, now, at this point in our lives? It has to mean something. My heart rests on a fragile and unsteady pedestal of hope. I have to believe there’s still a chance to keep the promises I made to Jace so long ago.

As the song comes to an end, I’m overcome with the urge to go outside and look at the stars. Something excited and bright flutters in my chest, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I’ve made it past the dark days for now; I remember this feeling of excitement and energy.

I put my guitar back in the case, and I get dressed in a hurry. I slip on my boots, but don’t bother with a coat. I just want to get outside and see the universe, feel part of the universe.

The cold winter air nips at my skin as I step out the back door, and it feels exhilarating. I take a deep breath and hold the frigid air in my lungs until it’s painful, and then I exhale, a puff of fog into the night.

I tilt my head back and smile up at the stars. How many nights did I sit on my balcony or look out the window of the tour bus or some hotel room in some random city and wonder if Jace was looking at the stars at that same moment and thinking of me? I glance at his cabin, dark and quiet, only a few yards away. He could be looking at these stars with me right now. I just have to go get him.

I stride through the snow and bang my fist against his door. I wait without answer for what feels like an eternity, and then I pound again, harder and longer this time, not stopping until I hear footsteps inside.

“What the fuck is going on?” Jace demands in a sleepy stupor when he pulls the door open. My heart leaps and my cock pulses in the confines of my jeans at the sight of him in nothing but his boxers.

Fuck, it’s been so long since I’ve felt the heat of lust licking at my skin like this. The dark times do a number on every part of my body. It’s always a sure sign the worst has passed—for the moment anyway—when my dick wakes up. And with Jace standing in front of me nearly naked, it’s safe to say I can’t remember the last time I’ve been this hard.

“Lincoln, what the actual fuck? Why are you standing on my front porch in the middle of the night, and why aren’t you wearing a damn coat? It has to be in the single digits.”

“Come look at the stars with me?”

“What? What the hell are you talking about? Jesus, Linc, are you on drugs right now?”

“No, I don’t do drugs. I drink, but I don’t have any booze in the house.”

“Go home and go to bed, Linc,” Jace says, moving to swing the door closed. I put my hand out to stop it from closing and step closer.

“Freckles, I—”

He blinks a few more times and really looks at me, concern etching across his features.

“If I come out and look at the stars with you, will you go home and go back to bed after that?” he asks in a stern voice.

“Yes,” I agree readily, knowing I’m too wired to sleep but willing to at least go home after he comes outside.

“Fine, go home and put on a damn coat and then I’ll meet you at the pier in five minutes.”

My heart leaps. The pier. Our pier. I want to drag Jace to me and find out if he still tastes the same.

I trudge back through the snow to my cabin and throw my coat on and then hurry down to the pier. I wait, counting the stars until I hear Jace’s footsteps behind me. He comes to a stop beside me, and I reach for his hand without thought. He’s wearing thick mittens and my fingers are too numb to feel much else.

“Guess I should’ve told you to put on gloves too,” he mutters. “Slide your hand in here with mine so I can warm it up and put the other one in your pocket so your fingers don’t freeze off. You won’t be playing too many concerts without your fingers.”

I comply, slipping my hand inside his oversized mitten. His skin feels hot against my frozen fingers as I twine our hands together. I half expect a reprimand, but Jace doesn’t say anything, and I feel like I could sob with relief to be touching him again after all this time. How will I ever let his hand go again? How will I ever let him go again?

“What are we looking at that’s more important than sleep or preventing frostbite?” he asks, tilting his head back and gazing up at the millions of stars twinkling above us.

“Isn’t it amazing?” I ask in awe of the sheer size of the heavens above us.

“What, Linc?”

“The universe, life, everything.”

“Are you sure you’re not high right now?” Jace snorts.

“I’m not high, smartass. I just missed looking at the stars with you.” Silence falls between us after that, and I do my best to memorize this moment and put it in the massive Jace file in my mind, where every touch and word spoken between us is catalogued.

“Look, there’s a shooting star,” he points out. “Make a wish.”

I glance over at him, falling in love for the thousandth time with the way the moonlight kisses his face and makes him look too beautiful to be real. There’s only one thing I would ever wish for—a lifetime of waking up beside Jace and telling him how perfect he is. And so that’s what I wish for.

His eyelids flutter closed, his face still tilted toward the sky, and I wonder what he’s wishing for.

“Please spend Christmas with me?” I ask again, knowing I’m pushing my luck but unable to stop myself.

“Fine,” he agrees sounding tired and defeated. “Now, can I go back to bed?”

Reluctantly, I slip my hand out of his. I’m not sure how I find the strength to resist kissing him before I let him walk away, but somehow, I do.

“Good night, Freckles,” I whisper to his retreating figure.

 

 

Jace

I lay awake worrying about Lincoln long after I climb back into bed. Something was off about him tonight. Not that I’m any sort of authority on Lincoln’s moods these days. But there was something different in his eyes as he stood on my porch tonight. They weren’t as hollow and full of pain as I’ve seen them these past few days. I don’t feel relieved though. I’m more worried about him than I was before.

I toss and turn until the gray morning light peeks through my curtains, and I drag myself out of bed to make coffee.

I look out the window at the footprints in the snow between our two cabins. And then my eyes wander down to the pier. I shiver at the memory of Lincoln’s hand twined with mine last night as we looked up at the stars.

This was supposed to be a chance to get over him, so why do I feel like I’m being dragged back into his orbit. He’s pulling me back in, and I’m not even struggling. I’m like a mouse, happily approaching a cobra like an idiot.

My phone rings, and I startle, nearly dropping the coffee cup in my hand. I hope to hell it’s not Joel or Wyatt wanting an update on how over Lincoln I am now.

My heart stutters when I see Amanda’s name on the caller ID. I almost ignore the call, but decide to at least get this closure, if I can’t have any other.

“Hello?” I answer.

“Jace, hi,” she says with uncertainty on the other end. “I wasn’t sure if I should call. I felt like such a dick just leaving you a note like that. Especially after everything I know you dealt with in the past…”

“It’s fine, Amanda,” I assure her. “I mean, it’s not fine, but you were right. You deserve better than I’ve given you.”

There’s an audible sigh of relief on the other end of the phone.

“I’m so glad you’re not mad at me. I’m sorry about everything. I wanted it to work; you’re such a great guy.”

“You’re sweet, Mandy, but I know I fucked this up. I’m the one who’s sorry, and I truly hope you find someone worthy of you.”

“Thanks, Jace. So, do you have any plans for Christmas or anything?” she asks awkwardly, and it hits me that I agreed to spend Christmas with Lincoln last night. In five days I’ll be enjoying holiday fun with my ex-boyfriend. Fantastic.

“Kind of, but you wouldn’t believe it if I told you,” I chuckle.

“Now I have to know.”

“When I got home and found your note, I decided I needed to get away for a few weeks. I came out to the old family cabin in Wisconsin. And, by some twist of fate, Lincoln’s staying next door for the next few weeks too.”

Amanda gasps. She knows all about my history with Lincoln, probably too much in all honesty. Just another testament to the fact that we were better friends than lovers.

“You’re not spending time with him, are you?”

“Kind of,” I mumble self-consciously. “Joel and Wyatt seemed to think it would be a good idea, for closure or whatever. And now I guess I’m spending Christmas with him?”

“Is that a question?” she snorts.

“No, I agreed yesterday to spend Christmas together.”

“I’m not sure what to say, Jace. But for how in love with him you’ve always been, I hope he’s worthy this time around.”

“What? We’re not back together. I’m getting closure.”

“Riiiiight,” she snorts a second time. “Sweetie, you never got over that boy, and I’m not sure you have it in you to get past him. Maybe this is the second chance you both deserve.”

I stand in silence with the phone pressed to my ear, trying to figure out how to respond to that. This is not a second chance. Lincoln got one chance, and he threw it away. This is me finally getting over him so I can fall in love with someone new. That’s what Wyatt and Joel told me would happen.

“Don’t hold your breath,” I finally answer weakly. “I’d better get going, but it was good talking to you. I hope we can stay in touch. And Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas to you too, sweetie.”

I toss my phone down on the table and hang my head. I can’t do this again with Lincoln. I won’t survive him leaving a second time. I should cut this off now. I can march over there, get the apology he’s waiting to give me, and move on with my life.

So why won’t my feet move? Why does the thought of walking away now make me sick to my stomach? How did this get so fucked up again so quickly? Lincoln fucking Miller, that’s how.