Page 4 of I Dreamt That You Loved Me

Then he strummed his guitar. It wasn’t soft and apologetic. It was hard and aggressive. The sound shot through me like a sonicboom and the air crackled with electricity. All he was doing was strumming the same chords over and over, but he had my full attention now.

When he opened his mouth and started singing, I died.

All the little hairs on my arms stood on end. Actual goose bumps. I’d never heard anything like it in my life.

I knew the song. I knew the lyrics. It was my favorite song by The Smiths. But Gabriel’s cover of “Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me” sounded nothing like Morrissey’s version.

His voice was the most beautiful instrument I’d ever heard. Ethereal, raw, passionate. Filled with pain and longing, sorrow and exaltation. It soared and plummeted with ease, and he held the notes for so long I was gasping for breath as if I was the one singing.

His music wasn’t grunge or rock or soul or the blues. Or maybe it was all those things rolled into one.

Either way, I was mesmerized without wanting to be. Drawn to the flame like a reluctant moth.

Even when he screamed into the mic, hitting crazy falsetto notes, and jammed for fifteen minutes straight on a Hendrixian blues song I’d never heard before, I was still riveted. Enthralled.

God, that voice.Thatvoice.

It felt like everyone in the room was holding their breath, watching and waiting to see what he’d do next. He took us all along for the ride on his magic carpet, and I think we would have followed him anywhere.

He played for over two hours, only stopping to swig a beer and talk to the audience. He charmed. He joked. He rambled, telling stories about how he had to borrow a guitar because when he’d first arrived in New York, he got robbed.

The thief stole his guitar and his entire music collection. “Just steal my soul while you’re at it.”

He talked about music being a mystical experience. “Music is my religion, my spiritual awakening, my path to self-discovery. One rainy day, I drank too much cheap whiskey and I just sat there and let all this sorrow wash over me, you know? When I showed up at a coffeehouse to play, I was weeping. I love that shit. Just stewing in your emotions, letting the pain wash over you.”

He was vulnerable yet self-aware. He had to have known what he looked like. I could tell by the way he angled his head and gave the audience sidelong glances. A heady cocktail of vulnerability and seduction straight out of the cute boys’ playbook.

I didn’t hold it against him though. He was a performer. Why not use all your God-given talents.

When the show ended, the entire room was silent. Until some guy said, “Yeah, man.”

What else could you really say after a performance like that?

Just,Yeah, man.

I think we all had the feeling that we’d just witnessed the birth of a legend.

Annika gave me a triumphant smile. No words were necessary.

I was officially blown away.

CHAPTER TWO

Gabriel looked drainedwith sweat plastering his hair to his head, but he wore a smile. Guitar in one hand and his arm around Annika, they made their way to the bar.

When they stopped in front of me, Annika put her hand on his chest and smiled up at him. “Gabriel, this is my friend Cleo. Mybestfriend,” she added.

The smile fell from his lips and his eyes narrowed to slits. “You’reCleo?”

He stared at me so accusingly you would think Annika had just told him I’d drowned a litter of puppies.

With a shake of his head, he wiped his hand down his face and laughed under his breath. “Of course you are.” He muttered a curse then let out a weary sigh like he couldn’tbelieveAnnika expected him to be civil to me. “Nice to meet you,Cleo.”

So much for charming. What the hell was this guy’s problem?

I looked him up and down, thoroughly unimpressed. He wasn’t a legend at all. He was just another Dick.

“Wow. That was so convincing. You sound absolutelydelightedto meet me.”