Three Years

Chapter 3 - Cat has my tongue

"Jules..?
Theo took out one of his wired earplugs.
I heard my name and looked up from my wallet to see the blue eyes I used to spend hours looking into, he looked so different I couldn't say anything except talk through my shocked eyes and my slightly lowered mouth.
"Really? The cat already got your tongue" he chuckled lowering his head and still looking at me. It felt as if he had forgotten the whole fifth and that I was just an...old friend.

"you...look-" he cut me off before I could slowly get the words out of my mouth.
"different? Yeah everyone says that, new tattoos new haircut same old me though" he smiled at me and nodded at his words.
"Who everyone?"
"uh- well my mom," he says smiling embarrassedly a bit
I giggle at his words.
I went to pay and tapped my card but it declined
"uh shoot try this one maybe?" 

I tried to find my other card from my wallet then I heard the accepted sound from the eftpos machine. I looked up and saw him putting his card away. 
"on me," he says and I move out of the line.
"Thanks..."
"I know you didn't like parties when we were teens but I'm hoping you do now, there's a party at the rooftop bar tonight and a bunch of people are coming, its top tier shit" he explained and stared at me for an answer.
"well I have nothing else to do, I'll be there. When is it?" I questioned.
"9 pm, I'll see you there Jules." he smiles when he says my name, we both turn away and I walk out of the cafe. 

I couldn't help but think, I thought he'd hate me after running off and leaving him behind alone without saying goodbye. But I guess not since I just got invited to a party by Theo.

I continue to roam the streets of New York, a city that feels both impossibly vast and familiar. I'm in my little world, gazing into the windows of shops, lost in the reflections of clothing I'll never own or afford. My eyes trace the delicate fabrics; my mind darts to what it would be like slipping into those garments-to feel something beautiful and expensive weighing upon my skin of course, it's a passing thought.

I slide my wired earplugs in type that clings closely to the ears and shuts out the noise of the city, replacing it with a gentle hum of music. Scrolling through my playlist, I find myself waiting for something familiar, something that would rhyme with the mood of the moment. Then, at last, there goes the familiar chords already playing, The Night We Met by Lord Huron. It was as though the universe knew exactly what I needed.

Everything around me fades, the noise of the traffic, the distant murmur of conversations, even the cold breeze that cuts through my everything disappears. The song has always held this power over me, a sort of magic that whisks me away to a place where time stands still, everything is simpler, purer. There's a tinge of bittersweet in the melody, the way it pulls deep inside me, and I allow myself to float along in it. 

All there was to do was show up to the party tonight...