Songs to Make You Stay (Playlist Book 3)

by Jay E. Tria

  Shinta had taken her card and bowed low in goodbye. He had then gone home and relayed the message to his father.

  Akio had given it a thought and a half before delivering his resolute yes. This is an adventure, he’d said. We’ll take it together. Shinta had said okay, since it sounded fun, and asked for how long. For as long as you want to, was his father’s answer.

  It had seemed pretty straightforward then. Fun and fortune. Most things are simple when you’re 16. He turned out to be good at what he did, and he was admired, fawned over. Idolized. It was an addictive thrill. Their adventure had not stopped since.

  This origin story played inside Shinta’s head since the night he took his father’s call outside Doozy Book Café. He tried to shake it off and file it away under Irrelevant Memories. But if he let his guard down for even a few minutes, the reel would play again, complete with vibrant colors and the feel of summer twilight on his face and sticky ice cream on his fingers.

  “It’s because I haven’t told Jill about Hollywood yet. I know it, I know it,” he chastised himself, leaning against his open bedroom door.

  For three nights he’d been lying awake, trying to pinpoint if this new plan, the new destinations of the adventure, excited him the way they usually did. It was like grappling for something behind a veil. He couldn’t quite reach it. He should be thrilled at the promise of new settings and new people, at the wider world opening up to him, the bigger dream. But all he felt was the bottomless dread of telling Jill, and the throbbing ache from knowing he won’t be with her for longer than they’ve ever been apart.

  He closed his eyes, listening to the patter of water against ceramic tile, the whoosh of a glass door, and the padding of bare feet. The bathroom door across from him creaked open, the heady scent of citrus filling his nose.

  He strode forward and stretched out an arm, catching Jill mid-step. He pressed his lips on her wet shoulder, drinking in his favorite scent.

  “We were just through this. And I just had a shower,” she mumbled against his chest.

  His lips slid up the graceful arc of her neck, finding a soft earlobe to nibble on. “Exactly.” What a good idea this was, to while away the afternoon locked inside his room. If days could always be like this.

  Shinta felt Jill push a strong palm against his abdomen. “We have a plane to catch. The gig in Cebu is tonight, remember?”

  Shinta was looking forward to this trip. It was the first time he got to go to an out-of-town gig with the band. He knew they were going for work, but the night was bursting with promises of the best roasted pig in the land, and a view closer to the stars from one of the Queen City of the South’s peaks.

  But now that they had to go, he wasn’t quite ready to leave. Leaving meant he and Jill would be surrounded by people again. It meant he’d let another chance to tell her pass, cowardly and confused as he was.

  His fingers tugged at the knots in her dripping hair, his lips finding her damp forehead. The spicy scent of his shampoo on her hair added a new layer to the fragrance of her skin, sending a thrill down his spine.

  “But didn’t I tell you? That Shinta-lovin’ coupon comes with a free round two.”

  He pulled her into his room, barring the door. Her hand was still on his torso, and he left it there as he took off his shirt. He shouldn’t have put it on again so soon anyway. What was he thinking?

  Jill’s hands traced the map of his skin, the hard ridges of muscle, fingers moving from memory. Shinta twirled the wet rope of her hair in a loose bun, fingers following the beads of water that dripped down her nape, down her back. One flick of his wrist and the towel around her came undone.

  Jill watched the towel fall into a heap of white cotton fluff on the floor. She released a flat sigh, and a shrug, hooking her arms around his neck as she bit on his lower lip. “How could you have forgotten to tell me that?” she murmured, pressing herself against him. “That’s invaluable information for decision-making. You were going to let me make bad decisions?”

  Shinta’s hands continued their downward trail. In one fluid motion coupled with a sharp gasp, he hoisted Jill up against him, her bare legs wrapping around him. “I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you.”

  They barely made it to his sofa bed. When they did, its narrow space was not enough. It never was. But there wasn’t time to explore wider spaces now. Jill’s greedy kisses, her fingers all over him kept reminding him of that. They had to go, and soon. They didn’t have a moment to waste.

  Shinta knew this fact, more so than she did. That he didn’t have enough time. That’s exactly it, isn’t it? It’s the entire wretched problem, he thought, and he growled low against her ear.

  He took her wandering hands and clasped them with his, holding her arms above her head as he went in for a kiss. Soft, then urgent, teeth nibbling her bottom lip, then slow and deep, as long as he could manage without coming up for air.

  When he did, he found Jill looking at him. Her eyelids fluttered and her gaze was hazy, her lips bruised from his demanding kisses. But a frown was etched on her forehead, between brows that were lifted in a question. He kissed that frown too, smoothing it away, wishing he could do the same for everything else.

  He was leaning against his door again after her second shower, waiting.

  “Step back, sir,” Jill said crossly, looking like she meant it this time. She came out of his bathroom fully dressed and bone dry, for one.

  Shinta knew her mind was zeroed in on the ticking clock of their flight’s departure. “Yes, ma’am,” he drawled, a lazy grin on his lips.

  He followed her inside, falling face first on his white sofa bed as Jill scurried about his narrow room, collecting her strewn-about things. A Taken By Cars shirt swept under his bed, her jeans on a pile behind his door, and a pair of black-and-red Vans at the foot of the closet. Jill slipped her shoes on, tossed the rest inside her duffel bag, and straightened up, hands on her hips, glare boring through Shinta.

  He returned it with a Cheshire cat grin, pulling two articles of black cotton and lace from under his pillow. “Right, you’re gonna want these back.”

  “Oh, haha,” Jill scoffed, catching her underwear and throwing them into her overnight bag before zipping it up. Two long strides and she had squeezed herself into the sofa bed beside him, head tucked under his chin. “We have to go now,” she whispered.

  “Okay.” Shinta smiled, unmoving.

  “Aren’t you going to pack?”

  “I’m always packed.” He pointed toward his trusty backpack where it sat near the door, waiting. “You forget. That’s the Backpack of Life.”

  “Right.” Jill propped herself up on one elbow, searching his gaze. “I can’t believe in less than two weeks we’ll be airport-bound again. And not to take a flight for a night of fun and debauchery and lechon together with our friends. But a flight just for you. A ‘so long, farewell’ kind of drama.”

  Shinta shut his eyes. He wasn’t expecting such an easy opening. But then again, he’d missed other wide open chances in the past few days. Cowards tended to do that. “Actually, we’ll be airport-bound next week,” he said slowly, deciding to take this one. He opened his eyes to catch the furrow form between Jill’s brows.

  “Oh. I thought six weeks and four days. Your father needs you back earlier?”

  “Yeah. That.” He pulled himself up, Jill mirroring his movements until they were both sitting up. “We need an extra few days to prepare for a location shoot.”

  “Ooh, where is it this time?”

  It took a vat of effort for Shinta to hold in a wince as Jill’s eyes lit up at his statement, not knowing this was a mere prelude to wretched news.

  “Maybe Niigata for the ski slopes?” she continued. “Oh wait, it’s only autumn now, right? Wrong season.”

  “A bit more to the west actually.” Shinta edged closer to her and draped a hand over her knees, fastening himself to her. “You know how I told you that the movie shoot in Hiroshima years back was amazing?” He paused,
allowing her time to nod. Okay, so let’s try dry wit. “Well, Los Angeles is much farther west than that. Therefore by simple analogy, I’m thinking the job there will also be way more awesome.”

  “Los Angeles?” Jill echoed. “California?”

  “I believe so, yes.” He braced himself for the explosion.

  “But that’s amazing!” Jill took his shoulders and started shaking him, sending his head lolling from side to side. The glee was palpable in every line of her face. “Is this for that action-horror movie spinoff you had a meeting for last summer? The one where you play the cop who can mediate with the souls of dead victims? And the souls help you catch their killers?”

  “Yes, yes, that.”

  “I loved that movie! No sex scenes, for one.”

  “Yeah, mediator cops don’t have time for love,” Shinta agreed.

  Jill’s laughter trilled around them. Her hands moved to touch his face, pinch his cheeks. “Congratulations, Shinta. That’s so exciting.” She paused, a shadow hovering over the delight in her eyes. “I guess that means I’ll be seeing you again in three months? Four?”

  Shinta released a heavy gust of breath. Jill had always been fast at math.

  “A year actually. Father has a few other things lined up after the drama shoot.”

  “One year?”

  “Yes.”

  Jill’s face was pale stone. “You’re asking me to be okay with not seeing you for a whole year?”

  Shinta felt himself writhing under her flat stare. Okay, that was a lie. It turned out the play in London was only the second bullet on a long and ambitious list that would take Shinta back to California and ‘settle there for a while’, as Akio’s follow up calls had revealed. One year was only his father’s prelude.

  “Actually, it will be for at least a year. I’m not sure how long beyond that.” That he won’t be seeing Jill for a while after this trip felt like a ridiculous understatement now.

  “Oh, okay.” Her hands flew from his face, flailing in the air. “I’m sorry. Not a year. For an indefinite amount of time.”

  “It’s not that bad, is it?” Shinta inched towards her, capturing both hands and gripping them in his own. “You can always visit, or I can visit—”

  “You and I know very well that you can’t just drop things and visit when you’re in the middle of a project. This is what we mean by actor problems.” Jill dropped her forehead against his shoulder, bone hitting bone. Then she arched away, pulling her hands free. She looked back up at him. “And I can’t do that either.”

  “Why not? Why can’t you come visit?” There was a way around this, Shinta knew. There had to be. “It’s not like you have to apply for vacation leaves. Just ask Mars for a couple of weeks off every few months.”

  “Even if I can afford a trip to the US every few months, I can’t leave the band that often.” Shinta wasn’t sure, but it felt like there was an invisible you smart ass on the trail of Jill’s words too. Her iced fingers moved between his, stroking his palm. “This is my job. It’s important to me.”

  “I know that.”

  “And I know your job is important to you too.”

  “Well…”

  Jill hiccupped a short laugh. “It is. Otherwise we wouldn’t be having this fight.”

  “This is a fight, huh?”

  “Yes, welcome to another relationship first.”

  His lips cracked into a smile. He couldn’t help it. “You called us a relationship,” he said, responding to the disbelieving arch of her eyebrows.

  A small chuckle escaped her throat. “What did you think we’ve been doing here, you weirdo?”

  Mad sound thumped against his chest, the drumming soft yet encouraging. Offbeat, maybe, from the true core of this conversation, but it claimed his attention anyway.

  There were never any labels, or iron-clad rules. Let’s take it on a day-to-day basis, they’d said. I love yous rained down only from his end, but Shinta didn’t mind. He knew of the splinters in her heart, years’ worth of them. He’d even born witness to a few. He had always been patient with Jill. And now, she was with him, in all ways that mattered to him. He’d always thought that for a long time that would be enough.

  “I know I want to be with you, and I know you want to be with me too. We’re good together.” Shinta took her hands again, brushing them against his lips. “But we haven’t exactly talked about it, you know?”

  “I didn’t think guys liked having the Relationship Talk.”

  “But here I am. A guy talking to you about this relationship. How I want to keep it the way it is.”

  Jill pulled away from him, untangling their fingers and moving to the far side of his sofa bed, her gaze rooted on the floor. She was silent for so long that Shinta was scrambling for something to say, anything that would make things better. Maybe an invitation to call this a draw and leave it here for now. Or better yet, an offer that they forget he ever said anything.

  Her eyes flicked up to his.

  “That’s just it, Shinta. To me, relationships aren’t phone calls and social media posts and red eye flights that you sometimes make and sometimes miss. And that’s the last time I’m bringing that up, I swear,” she added when Shinta’s mouth flew open, ready to protest the resurfacing of a crime he’d apologized for many times.

  Jill reached over, drawing shapes on his arms, ending with a soft tug on his fingers before she let go and angled her body away. “I’m used to closeness, you know? The physical kind. The kind where I can touch your face when I say ‘hello,’ and kiss you today knowing I can kiss you again tomorrow. The kind that doesn’t have what feels like deadlines in the form of return flights and movie contracts.”

  “Honey, I’m not Kim.”

  Shinta froze, seeing his own shock reflected in Jill’s orb-like eyes.

  Why did he say that? He knew Jill knew that. She didn’t need him to say it. But he did anyway, because those were the words that gave form to the looping thoughts that hurt him. That he wasn’t the guy who was always there with her. He wasn’t the guy who was present.

  Undo it, undo it, his brain and heart united, screaming at him. A dozen apology permutations whirled inside his head, converging and crowding the path to his mouth.

  Jill stood up, stepped back, taking her bag with her. When she spoke, her eyes were on her black-and-red shoes. “I don’t think you should come to Cebu anymore.”

  He was still searching for something to say, but knew it was too late. “I don’t think I should either.”

  Jill smiled, her eyes wet when they met his. Shinta had always loved her eyes. How they spoke things her mouth couldn’t be bothered to say. He fell for those eyes first. Now they were speaking to him again, saying more about her exhaustion and misery than the words she released with a firm breath.

  “At least we can still agree on something.”

  “We have that.” He tried a small smile in return. “Let me drive you to the airport.”

  “No. I can take a cab.”

  Shinta often thought there was a time to fight, and a time to give up. This felt like a little bit of both. “I always defer to you. Have a safe trip.”

  My heart has won the race

  Against history and a familiar face

  I jumped and the net found me, oh, oh

  You found me

  My bones know your name

  Anticipating thunderstorms, sun, lightning

  But it’s not all the same, oh, oh

  I’m not the same

  I’m trying to figure out

  How to make you stay

  Longer than a corner stop

  Don’t go, don’t go yet

  Stay for twenty more coffee cups

  Give me your Saturday nights

  Stay till I’m ready for you

  Take lazy days and a fight

  Hey wait

  Are you in it?

  Failure to launch

  Failure to make it

  Failure of you with me

&nb
sp; My heart is done running circles

  You made promises you’re trying to keep

  But I made promises too, oh, oh

  You’re not allowed to break me

  Still trying to figure out

  How to make you stay

  Longer than a corner stop

  Don’t leave, don’t leave me

  Stay for a day and a thousand

  Drive me across sand and time

  Stay for as long as you can, baby

  Stay for the rest of my life

  Hey hold it

  Are you in if I’m in it?

  Failure to launch

  Failure to make it

  (You’re here now but I’m static)

  Failure of you with me. (Jill)

  October 11, Sunday, night

  The first fight. It had felt like something waiting to happen, as if they were both poised for it.

  Take a walk, swim in alcohol with friends. Take a loud piss on how she’d wronged you while you’re at it! Well-worn post-fight habits lined up for him to choose from. He’d usually pick one or two from the list and culminate with a breakup, the swift and easy solution to the first sign of conflict. But now he laughed at the mere suggestion of it. Breakup with Jill. That’s not going to happen. And then the weak certainty of that proclamation hit him, and he choked on his own misplaced mirth.

  “Do you see the bicycle shop yet? The one beside a Chinese noodle place?” Son’s voice screamed in his ear, coming through his phone with a background noise of mic feedback and loud riot. Seemed like the Rock Isko Rock concert in Cebu was well on its way.

  “Not yet. But I’m passing a lot of guitar places.” Shinta lingered in front of one, eyes captured by a sizzling red Epiphone by the window. “Why can’t I just go in one of these?”

  “I told you. You need to look for my man Ramone. He’ll hook you up.” Son’s voice was coming in an echo now. It sounded like he’d found a quieter space to take Shinta’s call. “Why do you need a guitar anyway?”

  Shinta plodded forth, walking as instructed. He kept his elbows tucked to his sides, the rim of his baseball cap low, and his eyes everywhere, paying serious heed to Son’s caution about strolling alone down this busy, gritty Manila street. “It’s for Jill.”