She leaned the side of her face against the cushioned back of the bench, gazing at me with tired eyes. “What did you do with your three days off?”
“Uh…” I rubbed the back of my neck, adjusting to being alone with Tali again after that heavy moment. “Walked around Munich a lot, worked out with Hector, found a court and played some ball with a few of the crew.”
She lifted her head, eyes suddenly brighter, sparking with interest. “You still play basketball?”
I nodded. “When I’m home, I usually go to my gym and join in on pick-up games. If I’m home for a longer period, there’s a rec league I play with.”
“I haven’t played in so long. I wonder if I could still beat you.”
I laughed. “Well, considering you never proved you could beat me in the first place…”
Her lips tipped into a gentle smile. “I know. We ran out of time.”
We had. We ran out of time for a lot of the things we wanted to do together. “We should find a court while we’re on tour.”
“I’m into it. But if you should happen to win by some crazy twist of fate, I’ll insist on at least two rematches.”
I bowed my head, hiding the stupid-ass grin on my face. “Of course, Stripes.”
She made a funny gurgling sound, and I lifted my head in confusion.
“That name. Every time you say it, I feel like a kid again.” She reached out, feathering her fingers over the side of my hair. “Which is strange, because you’re no kid with your silver strands.”
“Me too. That names holds a very strong memory of a specific time in my life.”
“Mine too. When I saw you in that club, you yelled Tali, not Stripes. That’s how I knew you weren’t really yourself.”
A gust of breath blew out of me. “You heard me? I was never sure.”
“I did. I think most of New York heard you that night. You were a man on fire.”
“If I had yelled ‘Stripes,’ would you have come to me?”
She closed her eyes, pain flickering across her features. “Maybe. Maybe just to talk. I was with my boyfriend at the time, so…”
I scoffed. “So we wouldn’t have wound up in bed together?”
Her eyes opened, that old pain planted firmly in her irises. “Probably not. But you always did have a way of making me lose my mind when you touched me. I can’t guarantee I wouldn’t have been stupid.”
I scrubbed at my face, groaning, frustrated at the place I’d let myself once get to. “I’m glad you didn’t come up. I’m glad you don’t have a memory of me like that up close. You have enough shitty memories of me.”
“Still, I wish I could have done something besides writing a note and running away. I broke up with that guy the next day, by the way. He was falling in love with me, and I realized I still wasn’t capable of giving myself over to love him back. And I didn’t want to answer his questions about why Jude Goldman was screaming my name in the middle of a club.”
“What? I’m offended you hadn’t already told him about me.”
She rolled her eyes, amusement lighting her features. “I think you have no idea how intimidating it can be for a guy to hear the girl he’s interested in was once in a relationship with a very famous rock star. After two or three times, I learned to keep your identity to myself.”
“No worries about that now.”
She gave me a closed-mouth smile. “Relationships from over a decade ago don’t typically come up anymore.”
I nodded, hurt at her casual dismissal of what wasthedefining relationship of my life. But she was right, of course. Our history was thick, but it faded more and more every day.
Tali nudged my leg with her toes. “I know that sounded shitty. I’m not saying I don’t think about you or wonder how you are or remember the way we loved each other. I definitely do. I just don’t talk about it with men I date. Not anymore.” She leaned her cheek against the bench again. “Do you? Talk about me?”
“Nah. Some things shouldn’t be cheapened or watered down by recounting them to people who’d never understand.”
“Your answer is far better than mine. I’d like to exchange mine for yours.”