Not Another Love Song

by Julie Soto

“Give this a chance. The two of us. I’m not good with words, I’m not good at speaking things. I’m good with notes on a page. I’m good at music—and that’s what I tried to tell you on that stage just now.”

“If you don’t want to be with me, together with me, I can understand,” he said, and she felt her knees wobble. “But, Gwen, please make music with me. I need you in my life. I need to be in your orbit in some way, and if you don’t want me to touch you and kiss you and fuck you, then let me make love to you onstage every night because it’s the most alive I’ve felt in ten years—”

His tongue spun delicious melodies into her, sucking the breath from her lungs until her head floated away from her body.

“I want to be clear,” he whispered, as she focused on the rose-colored smudges around her lips. “I want you. In every way.” She swallowed, and he watched her throat move. “I want to see you. And fuck you. And play music with you.”

“It’s simple, really,” he said. “It’s about a cello who fell in love with a violin.”