I'll Be

Chapter Twenty-One: There'll Be Days Like This

When we got to Vail, Sawyer and I began our walk down the main street. It was snowing, and I loved the way the powder silently covered the whole city.

            “It’s so beautiful.” I said softly.

            He nodded, “I know. I can’t believe people live here all year.”

            “Can we come back in the summer? When it’s warm?”

            “We can come back any time you want.” He kissed my cheek, and I blushed.

            I looked at him, “Are you mad at me? About bailing on the meeting?”

            He shook his head, “No. I’m mad at myself for not telling you about all this sooner. I just didn’t want to ruin it.”

            “You didn’t ruin anything.” I said, and squeezed his hand “I just want to make sure we get you back in time for your show.”

            He hummed, “I was thinking about that.”

            “Yeah?” I asked, my eyes glancing at a store window, “And what were you thinking?”

            “That you should come up and play with me.” He said softly.

            That I what? I looked up, eyes wide and shook my head, “No, no, no.”

            He smiled, “Teddy, you can do it. I know you. I’ll talk to Robbie; he’ll let you do it.”

            I scoffed, “That’s ridiculous. That’s…That’s….That’s like Michael Clifford playing with Greg Ginn; Parker Cannon playing with Slash. You can’t do that to me.”

            “Would you stop doing that?” He stopped, taking both of my hands.

            “Stop doing what?”

            He moved closer, “Acting like you’re not incredible at what you do. I’ve seen you play, Teddy. You’re as good as I am.”

            I literally laughed out loud, “Yeah, right.”

            “You don’t think you are,” He warned, “It’s not perfect, but neither am I. Even if you don’t think so, you’ll pass me up one day. You get better and better.”

            We walked, and Sawyer hummed a familiar tune that I couldn’t place; I knew it, but every time I thought I had it, it slipped off the tip of my tongue.

            He winked at me, singing faintly “Find a way to stay in your skin.”

            I smiled, and we returned to the car. As I stood on the sidewalk, I thought about the story we told, the first night Sawyer and I ever had dinner together. Sitting on the street corner, busking for gas money when we got stuck.

            “Hey, Sawyer?” I asked, seeing him unlock the driver’s door, “It takes two hours to get home, right?”

            He nodded, “About. Why?”

            “I think we’d have time for a little mini-concert.” I smiled, gesturing toward the empty sidewalk, “I mean, if you wanted to.”

            His eyes glanced to the bench, his lips turning up into a bright smile before reaching into the backseat; the quilt. He brought it with us.