Strings and Schemes

Chapter 19

I run a hand down my face. "Both."

Louis whistles. "Messy. I like it."

I sit, lean forward, press my elbows onto my knees and let the music wash over me. I don't think. I just sing.

"Why's it gotta feel like i'm walking a tight rope?

Louis stills.

I keep going.

"Why you wanna see how far I fall?"

My chest is tight. The words taste like truth.

Louis lets out a low breath. "Oh, we're really going for the jugular, huh?"

I nod, swallowing hard.

He scribbles something down, tapping his pen against the table. "Let's make it worse."

And we do.

We build it, piece by piece. The parts I can't say out loud, the things I don't even want to admit to myself, we put them in the song. And then, at the very end, when everything is raw and open, I do something I've never done before.

I switch to Urdu. A secret code I know she'll understand.

Soft, aching words slipping past my lips like a whisper meant for one person alone.

"Chaudhvin Ka Chand ho"

Louis doesn't say anything for a long time. Then he exhales. "Fuck me, mate."

I nod, staring down at the paper drumming my fingers against my leg.

I don't tell anyone. No press release, no teaser. Just drop the track and let the world catch up. The only person I think about hearing it is her. I don't know if she will. I don't know if she'll understand what I'm trying to say, or if she'll even care.

I tell myself it doesn't matter. But as I watch the track go live, as the first reactions start rolling in, I know exactly who I'm waiting on. I lean back, close my eyes, and try not to think about her.

Poker night is already in full swing when I walk into the Raven's Den. I haven't been back since Raina's Independence Day party - all I can see when I walk in is Raina, smiling, laughing, dancing, joking, blushing at my slight touch. All I can see is her. Everywhere. It's like she's a poison that's infected my body, and I can't sweat her out.

Liam looks up from his cards. "Look who finally decided to crawl out of his hole."

Louis smirks, shuffling the deck. "Must be our lucky night."

I drop onto the chair, exhaling through my nose. "Don't start."

Louis raises a brow but doesn't push—yet. Instead, he deals me in, and for a while, I pretend that everything is fine. That I haven't spent the past week spiralling, that I didn't just release a fucking song about a girl who I can't bring myself to text.

I've paced my house, thinking it through over and over again. Staring at the night sky across my loft bedroom, thinking of her. Imagining she was there with me. Touching myself to the memory of her, as if I deserve to feel good for even a second.

But then Liam plays a bad hand.

Really bad.

So bad that Louis, the eternal shit-stirrer, sees his opportunity.

"Mate," Louis says, leaning back, "that hand was almost as tragic as Zayn's love life."

I glare at him. "Piss off."

But Liam doesn't laugh. He just sighs, tossing his cards onto the table. "You know, I thought we were gonna do this later, but fuck it."

I narrow my eyes. "Do what?"