chapter song - lost with you by patrick watson

Before the injury I would constantly crack my back. The guys on the team were used to me almost bending backwards in half and the ricochet of popping that ran from my neck all the way down to my hips. Dad says it's a sign that my body is aging faster than it's supposed to. He told me to take a break. A week at most.

Take some of that money and go find a beach. Hell, go find a mountain in the middle of Norway and stay there alone in solitude.

I didn't listen.

I can't crack my back now. Not the same way I did before. I can't press my cheek all the way down to the top of my shoulder until my neck pops and I finally get a little relief from the aches. I can't twist my body around, feeling like a damn gymnast as I twist and turn my body every way it can.

I always thought my body was invincible. I don't know why. It never gave me any reason to think so highly of it. It had failed me before. But on the field, in the gym, in every moment where I wasn't alone and by myself, I felt like my body could do anything. That I could run as fast as I could, that I could force my legs to keep going and going.

And then when I went home there was no more practise, there were no more games, there was no more training at the gym. I was alone and at home and suddenly every ache and spasm in my body that I thought was never there finally realized it was quiet enough for them to get louder.

I have to be careful when I crack my back now. Not that I end up needing to as much anymore. But if I pull and twist too much, my shoulders aches something horrid. A constant dull throb that isn't loud enough and isn't quiet enough. It's just there. Always.

I walk into the cafe with a pain in my shoulder. I didn't sleep well, tossing and turning, the comforter getting too hot, then the AC making it too cold. Sweat lining my skin only to dry up just as quickly, clammy and uncomfortable. I woke up with pain shooting through my shoulder, clinging onto my neck and making the tips of my fingers tingle until they were almost numb.

I knocked back more meds. It was on an empty stomach.

The cafe is quiet. It's eight-forty-five in the morning, though. I suppose most of Toronto doesn't want to be up until nine. I usually was never a morning person but it started to become nice to wake up early when the world is still mostly asleep and then shut off from everyone and go to bed when they start getting dressed to go out for the night.

A few people are sat together, murmuring quietly in the corner. A tall man with a hat resting on the table nurses a small espresso cup as a paperback is clutched tightly in one hand. Another is a frazzled looking pair, typing erratically on their laptops, as an opened biochemistry textbook lies facedown on the table between them. They have sandwiches and large iced coffees. The coffee is almost done, the sandwiches are untouched.

I scan the coffee shop, taking in the money trees sitting in their pots on balanced shelves lining the walls, leaves and and vines spiralling down the shelving beneath. Franny isn't here yet. I contemplate whether I should wait for her before getting a coffee or if it will be less awkward to have something to fiddle with as I wait. I glance back at the entrance but no one is approaching.

Okay. Okay, okay. Coffee. I can get coffee.

I awkwardly order the most boring thing I can see on the menu and then wince as it arrives in front of me, the dark plain americano steaming in its mug. That's boring. Is she going to judge how boring the coffee is? Should I have got something with foam? Does that taste better? I don't even like coffee that much. I usually used to just chug espressos, and then drown the taste out with a gatorade.

I take a sip from my seat in the corner of the coffee shop, slightly out of the way. A little private. I pull a face. It tastes plain. It's boring.

God, I'm so fucking boring.

I couldn't decide what to wear today. It's still hot as hell outside but at least it's early enough that the main heat hasn't arrived yet. There's thankfully a little breeze in the air so I settled on a plain white shirt and black jeans. I blink.

...Is what I'm wearing boring?

I glance around to see what everyone else is wearing then sigh. There's nothing more depressing than realizing you can't even function well enough to sit in a coffee shop without a million wrong thoughts bouncing around your head.

This time I take two long gulps of the coffee, wincing at the taste but I immediately feel better.

Maybe I should become a coffee addict. Give me something to do.

I fiddle with the little paper menu that's sitting on the table. My eyes scan the words without fully reading them as I wait. Thinking it's been at least fifteen minutes, I look at the clock across the room. My stomach sinks.

It's been 6 minutes.

I'm not very good at being alone.

While contemplating the idea that this might be a complete disaster and that having a coffee (no matter how casual) with your high school girlfriend is actually a stupid idea, the entrance to the coffee shop opens up and the door hits the little bell above the entryway. My eyes snap up from their place on the rim of my mug and I kind of just awkwardly freeze when Franny walks in.

Her hair is shorter than it was in high school, falling in waves just past her shoulders. A pale cardigan tucks into a white floral skirt with a slit up the side and my eyes go straight to her exposed thigh of tanned skin.

Fuck, Tyler, get a grip.

Wide brown eyes scan the coffee shop before settling on me and a wide, albeit slightly nervous smile, falls across her face. She hurries over, holding a small bag to her stomach, and stops at the chair opposite mine. She rocks a little back and forth on the balls of her white sneakers and I stand up quickly, a breathless smile tugging at my lips.

"Uh, hi."

"Hi I-"

We both speak at the same time and a little colouring of red flushes Franny's freckled cheeks. I grin a little wider and shyly rub the back of my neck. She fidgets, looking like she also isn't sure what to do right now. My smile softens and I hesitantly take a step forward, wrapping my arms around her in a gentle hug only for her to sigh in relief and hug back, her hands making fists in the back of my shirt.

She pulls away first and my hand brushes over her shoulder as she steps back, and part of me wants to keep my hand there. Lingering but grounded. The leaves of the thorn-covered stems that swirl over my wrist ink themselves on the back of my hand, and the contrast of the dark lines on my skin beside her untouched skin is not something I predicted I would become obsessed with.

She orders a coffee, hers large and iced and I can see sugary syrup settling at the bottom of her plastic cup as she sits down across from me, the slit on her thigh rising higher and I quickly avert my eyes, taking another sip of my bitter coffee.

"So, I guess the universe was having a laugh when they decided we should be a few blocks away from each other," Franny says after a few moments of settling down and I let out an amused huff.

"Stranger coincidences have probably happened," I say. "The club thing was probably the universe pissing themselves laughing."

She grins behind her straw, taking a long sip.

"Yeah, that was uh..." Franny coughs a little. "I don't usually do that, by the way."

"It's fine, Fran. I wouldn't care if you did," I say gently.

She raises an eyebrow. "Do you? I mean, I don't believe everything I read. Tabloids are liars. But...do you usually do that kind of thing?"

I shrug. "Honestly, I've been trying to stop. Not really the best look for me anymore, huh?"

She frowns, her lips twisting as she thinks. "Image is important but it's not everything. You shouldn't have to owe people your life."

I smile a little, but it becomes more twisted and sad by the time it graces my face. "Part of me wishes I do owe them it. Maybe they wouldn't have all left then..." I slide a finger along the handle of my coffee mug. "I know all publicity is supposed to be good but the bad just feels...bad."

"Yeah," Franny says softly. "Life wasn't very fair to us, huh?"

Her words only catch up to me a few moments later but by then one of the employees is already coming over with a plate balancing two sandwiches filled with egg and bacon. He places the plate down with a smile and scurries back to behind the counter. I lift my eyebrows as Franny reaches out to grab one half of the bagel sandwich.

"Hungry?" I grin.

"One's for you, idiot." She rolls her eyes.

My narrow my eyes. "I might not be hungry."

"One, it's like nine in the morning, of course you're hungry. Two, you're the one who's fidgeting with your bland as hell coffee so I just know you were too awkward to order food before I showed up."

A surprised laugh slips past my lips and she gives me a smug look while chewing. I sigh, grabbing one of the sandwich halves.

"Am I that predictable?" I ask.

"To be honest, I genuinely had no idea what you'd be like. It's been ages. Things I knew about you that were just habit might not even exist to you anymore. But...you would always get really awkward when you were nervous so..."

"Anxious," I correct.

"Huh?" she frowns.

"It was anxiety not nervousness," I explain. "They put me on meds when they realized how badly I was getting in my head before football practise."

Franny mulls over what I say for a moment before wincing. "Guess the um...accident didn't really help, did it?"

"Hell no. That was a mess," I say. "But, would have been a mess either way."

She nods. "Yeah. I guess no one really knows how to react in a situation like that." Franny brushes her fingers together gently to knock away crumbs and looks up at me. Soft brown curls frame her face and part of me doesn't even care that I want to reach out and twist one around my finger.

"I am sorry," she says. "I know how much it meant to you. To make it out there."

"I know," I say gently. "Is what it is. But anyway, enough about depressing shit." I laugh a little. "Canada, huh?"

Franny hums, finishing her food. "Yeah. There was a job going, uh, helping assisting in art therapy. There sure as hell aren't many jobs going so I applied, ended up getting it and had to throw most my savings on the relocation costs."

"Kind of a big chance," I say. "You might not have liked it here."

"There wasn't much going for me in the U.S to be honest. Which sounds stupid because it's a massive country." She laughs. "But I don't know. The idea of just taking a suitcase and going seemed like a great idea at the time."

I tilted my head a little, in thought. "It worked out though, didn't it?"

Her gaze fades out for a moment before she blinks, smile tight. "Yeah, eventually it did. Got another job just over a year later and they encouraged me to get residency here. To stay. And anyway, there's no way my cat will forgive me if I move out of Toronto."

I grin. "I thought about getting a pet. Maybe a dog."

"More of a dog guy?" she asks, sipping on her drink.

"Well, my mom got sick for a while and was in and out of the hospital a lot. She surprised my dad with a Rottweiler pup to keep his mind off it. At this point I'm pretty sure the dog is my sibling."

Franny can't help but laugh but her eyes are still concerned. "Your mom's okay though, right?"

"Yeah, yeah! Don't worry. They caught it early...cancer free now."

"Shit," she says softly. "My uh, dad has a girlfriend now. She had a cancer scare too. A little fucked up but, I didn't really know I felt about her for a while. This was back when I was first left to go to college. But seeing my dad...terrified like that. So scared of losing someone that wasn't just me. It kind of jolts you into reality."

"Yeah," I say softly. "Don't realize how much you're going to miss someone until they're gone."

Her gaze lingers on me, an unreadable look on her face. She finally glances away, taking in a sharp breath to calm down.

Franny chews at the end of her straw absentmindedly and before I even realize what I'm doing I reach over, pressing my thumb gently to her bottom lip until she lets the piece of plastic go. "Don't do that, you won't be able to drink out of it," I say softly. Franny's eyes are wide and I swear I hear the jump in her chest just as I realize what the hell I've just done.

"Oh, fuck." I pull my thumb away and try not to think about the heat that surrounds it even as I clench my hand into a fist on my knee. Or try to think about how soft her lips are, how I felt her shuddering breath against my skin. How I sat there, not even thinking before doing something so intimate, something that used to be second nature. Something I wouldn't even think about before doing. An action so familiar it was like muscle memory.

But this isn't my Franny.

A shaky breath leaves me and I wince. "Sorry. Shit, sorry. I didn't even think- I shouldn't have done that."

"It's okay, it's okay," she rambles out hastily. "Really. Don't worry over it."

"I can't just touch you like that though," I say.

She looks torn, fingers fiddling with the straw, unsure what to say. Franny eventually shrugs, a sad little smile on her face. "Old habits die hard, huh?"

I let out a long breath. "Yeah. You can say that."

She smiles – the sadness fading – soft and gentle and a warmth spreads through me so quickly I feel like I need to catch my breath.

She's always been so pretty when she smiles.

__________

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