Vincent sighs. “Megan, my mom…my mom has cancer.” He looks up and meets my eyes. “It’s not good. I don’t tell people about it. Aside from my friend, you’re the only one who knows.”
“I’m so sorry.” My heart aches for him. I know my mom can be a pain in my butt, but I would never want her to get cancer. “Why would you tell me so soon?”
“I trust you, Megan. I wanted you to know.”
“I’m here for you if you ever need to talk.”
“Thanks. Are you ready?”
“Yeah.”
We go inside the restaurant, and when Vincent gives his name, they immediately seat us. It’s a popular place and pricey. Makes me wonder if Vincent is rich. The celestial decorations are beautifully painted on the walls and ceilings. The soft yellow and blue lighting creates a warm and cozy atmosphere. I’m usually nervous on dates, well at least the first few I went on with Matt, or in any setting that puts me with someone I barely know, but with Vincent, it’s different. The more we talk and get to know each other, the more I feel like we’ve known each other for years. He makes me comfortable and at ease. I feel like I can tell him anything.
“So, Vincent, what do you like to do? Other than design things.”
“If I tell you, will you promise not to laugh?”
I press my lips together and nod.
“Play the guitar. I know it’s a silly notion, but I kinda hope to become a musician someday.” He blushes.
“Do you play it well?”
“Yeah, I guess. I mean, I think so.”
“Then you’re a musician.”
He chuckles. “I wish it were that easy.”
“Why not? If you want to become famous and all that, you gotta try. Have you got a demo tape?”
“Not yet.”
“Are you in a band? Or is this a solo gig?”
“Right now, it’s solo, but I wouldn’t mind having a band.”
“We should do tryouts. I’m sure there are lots of people at school that would like to join.”
“Are you going to be our singer?”
“No, I don’t sing. Besides, I’d get all the attention and the band would resent me and we’d eventually fall apart or something.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Why would you get all the attention?”
“Come on, that’s music 101. Female lead singers always get the attention.”
“Yeah, but that happens for every band though. Lead singers always gets the most attention.”
“Still. I can’t sing to save my life. My dog cringes when I sing in the shower.”
He laughs and I join him. “You could lip-sync or use auto-tune.”
“If I’m going to do something, I’m going to do it right. Lip-syncing is lazy and if you have to use auto-tune, you shouldn’t be singing.”
“Fair enough. My dad’s not a big fan of this path, though. So, it’s probably all a pipe dream.”
“Which do you enjoy more?”
“Both. I don’t know. Everything is kinda all up in the air right now.”
“I’m sorry.” I hate apologizing so much, but I don’t know what to say. I wish I knew the right words.
“Don’t be. What about you? What about your writing?”
I shrug, feeling self-conscious. “I just scribble some words down.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “Like what? Tell me.”
Playing with my napkin, I stare at my hands. “I sometimes write poetry, but I write stories. I’m actually working on a crazy idea right now.”
He leans forward. “What’s it about?”
“I’m not sure.” I give a soft laugh. “I had a weird dream,” I begin, leaving Casper out of this conversation. “About two people who are in love but they’re enemies. Kinda like Romeo & Juliet. One’s a Sprite and one is an Elf. They’re searching for this Jewel that helps them stay alive from a bad guy who wants to kill them. It’s weird because it takes place in some other time period.”
“Like when?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Like the Rococo time period. Early 1700s France.”
“That’s specific.”
“It seems to work. The dream I had was in that time.”
“That’s amazing that you can come up with such a story from a dream.”
“Stephanie Meyer did it with Twilight.”
“Maybe you’ll be the next Stephanie Meyer.” He winks. “That’s amazing though. I love history, so if you ever need any ideas, I can help.”
“Okay.”
“Are you ready for the movie?”
“Absolutely.”
We continue our music conversation and talk about how we both enjoy writing. He says he writes songs all the time and I mention wanting to read them or hear him play. I’ve always been a sucker for poetry and lyrics. It’s like my Achilles’ Heel. Learning this about Vincent makes me like him even more. I love his passion and the way he describes wanting to help people with his music and wanting his art to matter. It’s such a shame that his dad seems to reign that part of him back to focus on architecture.
We talk all the way to the movies and there is never an awkward silence. I love how simple it is with Vincent. Sometimes our words seem to overlap each other’s, and we joke around, matching each other’s jabs. He can dish it and I can take it and vice versa. I’ve never had this connection with a guy before, something that feels right.
We choose to see a comedy and while I stand in line for popcorn and drinks, Vincent gives me money to pay and goes to the restroom.
Bored standing in line, I look at my nails.
“We need to talk,” a voice says from behind me. Even before I turn around, my heart stops. Its beating races as I peer up
