Page 91 of Your Rhythm

“I can probably get the time off,” I admit, “but I’ll have to spend half the trip working on articles to make up for it.”

He grins. “And the other half screwing me senseless?”

JP’s distant bark of laughter comes through my speaker. “Iknewyou were having phone sex!”

“Go away, JP!”

Matt picks up a chip bag and throws it towards where I assume JP is standing.

“How is everything?” I ask, once he’s focused back on me. “Really?”

He filled me in on everything that went down with Atlas and Shayla. She doesn’t seem to hold any grudges toward the band. Things are still kind of tense between them, but Matt says he checks in with her from time to time, and apparently her management business is still doing well.

The situation with Atlas is a different story. They’re at a stalemate over absolutely everything from who’s going to take over as manager to when production on the next album’s going to start. It seems like now that Shayla’s been pushed out, Atlas has taken the opportunity to tighten their grip and try to walk all over the band.

Matt’s trying not to let it bother him too much. He told me that even though they’re tied down for another two albums, he thinks Sherbrooke Station can use that time to their advantage. At the end of the day, Atlas is still a huge label who can open a lot of doors.

All the drama has prompted the guys to get more serious about their career. Matt admitted none of them really understood their contracts before, but they now have weekly band meetings to strategize and check in on where they’re headed. After the Metropolis show, Ace announced that he wouldn’t be drinking during the European tour, and so far he’s kept his word. There’s no neat bow tying up all their loose ends right now, but they’re far from being the bickering amateurs on the verge of a breakdown I first interviewed in that tiny office in Ottawa.

“Truth be told,” Matt answers me, “for the first time in a long time, I can honestly say I don’t see anything being able to stop us.”

* * *

Passingthrough UK customs is terrifying. I don’t think I’ve ever been grilled that hard by a border agent before, but after the iron-faced lady behind the desk has gone over every detail of my landing card with me twice and squinted at my passport one final time, I’m finally free to enter England.

My tiny suitcase makes a clicking sound every time the wheels pass over a gap in the floor tiles. The crowd ahead of me surges towards a set of glass doors, and I let myself get swept up among the eager travellers about to burst into the arrivals terminal.

At first, I don’t see him. The metal railing just beyond the doors has people pressed up against every inch of it, and he’s not in the first row. I strain my eyes even farther and that’s when I notice the guy in a black t-shirt leaning up against the back wall.

He’s got his arms crossed over his chest, dark ink marking the dips and swells of his muscles. One of his feet is propped lazily against the wall, and I can tell from the blank expression on his face he hasn’t spotted me yet. People have to swerve to avoid me, but for a moment I just stop and stare at him. A weird but comforting kind of possession stirs in my chest. This man is mine.

He’s at least twenty feet away, and still everything about him draws me in: the clothes he wears, the way he stands—even the air around him seems like it’s pulsing with some kind of beat, like he radiates the rarest of rhythms and I can’t help but move in time.

Eventually my stillness draws his attention and he pushes off from the wall, jogging towards one of the gaps in the railing as he shouts at me and waves.

The first time we met he was calling my name in a crowd. I now know his voice is a sound I’ll always answer to.

“Hey,” he greets me, once I’ve stepped around the barrier and we’re finally face to face.

“Hey.”

I move closer. His arm wraps around my waist. I lock my hands behind his head and wait for the pressure of his mouth on mine. He hovers just an inch away from me and I can feel the heat of his breath on my lips.

“You and me, right?” he murmurs.

I close my eyes and nod. “You and me.”