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Chapter 24

May 27th, 4 years later.

"White mocha, hot." I hand over a five-dollar bill to the barista.

"$2.07 is your change. Just enough to tip our local act of the night." he points behind me to the stage before setting the money in my hand.

I give a small smile and move to wait for my drink. Little does he know that act is the whole reason I'm even here.

I shove the change in my back pocket and tap my fingers against the counter. My coffee slides my way, and I take it to a table in the back, waiting for setup to finish. I watch as a few guys walk onto the stage.

"Hey everyone. We're Black Ballad. Hope you enjoy the set."

I force myself to let go of my grip on my coffee before I spill it. Hearing that voice again is a lot harder than I anticipated it to be.

I don't exactly know why I thought this particular instance was the best way to see him again. But I watch as a boy whom I once loved strummed on his guitar, singing out to a slightly overcrowded coffee shop. Even though I'm far enough to not be noticed, I feel like I can see his blue eyes still so vividly. He has more tattoos. As he grips the microphone with one hand, I notice one new tattoo in particular. He has a small cross tattooed on his left hand just between his pointer finger and his thumb.

After their 30-minute set, I watch as he slides the acoustic guitar to his back, saying his goodbyes to the crowd.

And as if in slow motion, he spots me, and freezes. His blue eyes captivate me, and we both stand frozen. A lifetime of emotion flashes in his eyes.

I knock over the little coffee I have left, and jump up, shaking off my coffee-burnt hand. When I look back to the stage he's gone.

Shit.

I grab a few napkins, quickly trying to wipe down the table before I run toward the stage. I look around quickly before noticing the door labeled, "green room".

I open the door to reveal not only Shane, but the rest of his band.

"Umm... are you a fan?" one asks me.

"Yeah. Um... big fan." I say, not taking my eyes off Shane.

"Did you want like an autograph or an encore or something?" Another one asks me.

"I'm finished playing." Shane turns away from me, and my stomach turns. This has to work. He has to talk to me.

"Wait—play me a song." I plead, reaching for his arm. He rips his arm from my grasp and scoffs. He's right. I have no right to do that.

"I said I'm finished."

He lifts the guitar strap off of his shoulder and tosses the guitar on the couch.

"Tonight's tips. We'll mail that check." A man shakes his hand before handing him the mason jar from the counter. Shane slaps his back in a hug before waving him goodbye. The rest of the guys bow out, realizing I'm more than just some fan. Frankly I wish my role here were that simple.

Shane grabs the neck of his guitar and walks over to his guitar case.

"It's been so long since I've heard you sing." I stand with the guitar case between us on the floor.

"Yeah, and who's fault is that?" he snaps, throwing the case of the guitar case back, making me jump backward.

"Can we please just talk? Could we like go somewhere?" I plead with him as he hurries to pack his guitar case.