12:22

twenty-seven

inez

I decided to go with him, not the best idea I know. We've been walking for a while now but it feels like we're in the middle of nowhere.

Am I being murdered? Kidnapped? What if my friends never see me again? Maybe he'll let me leave them a final message before I die.

Then he opens a door in the back of some building, signaling me to walk in. I go in and am welcomed by the sound of saxophones, trumpets, trombones and warm lighting. A group of people were playing jazz music.

He brought me to a jazz club.

"Oh my God, Ronan." I look at him shocked. How does he know this about me?

"Do you like it?"

"Are you serious? I've been wanting to go to one of these in forever." I exclaim in excitement.

He smiles, his teeth and dimples showing. I don't think that I've seen this combination displayed on his face before.

Ronan realizes he's smiling and stops. He goes back to his resting face. "Should I get you a drink?"

I shook my head, "I'm good, how did you know?"

"What do you mean, how did I know?"

"My love for jazz." I state.

"Your apartment, the jazz records in the shelves all around your room."

"Yeah but you've been in my room maybe like once but how did you notice?" I ask, I don't think I've observed my own apartment that way.

He shrugs, "I pay attention to detail."

"Or you're a creep."

A corner of his mouth turns up, "Just for you."

We stand next to the bar and he orders a mimosa while we watch the performances. The club was decorated with vintage posters all around, air filled with light murmurs of conversation. The clinking of glasses and vibrant atmosphere. It felt like I was living in one of my dreams that I never get to finish.

"What's your favorite thing about jazz?" I hear him whisper.

"The comfort it brings. I don't think any genre can top the way it makes you feel."

"I agree." He takes his glass from the bartender and sips. Ring laced fingers around it as he drinks.

"Yours?"

"I admire the way jazz singers sing, it's different."

The atmosphere here was intimate, smaller with a large amount of people, but not overwhelmingly. My eyes fixate on an elderly couple, dancing like there's no one else in here. It was only them two.

The man twirls his partner around and they almost crash into one of the other couples dancing, but he saves her. They begin laughing hysterically at their actions.

"You think that'll be us?" I don't even have to turn my head to see who said that, but I do just to look at him.

I study him, us? He's saying there's an us.

"Hypothetically?" I ask to make sure.

"Yeah, hypothetically."

"No, I don't think so." I answer, still watching the couple. Looking into his eyes has never been more difficult.

"Why?" I don't look at him but there's a change of emotion in his voice.

"I feel like you'd yell at me for almost bumping into someone. You'd lecture me on how I could've gotten hurt."