Every String Attached | GirlxGirl

Chapter Twenty Eight

York always slept on her stomach. She couldn't fall asleep any other way, she said. And with her head turned away from Shawn, she was able to keep the dim table lamp turned on beside her as she retrieved the leather notebook from the hotel's bedside table.

She opened it slowly—she was doing everything very slowly, careful not to wake York by moving around too much—no longer wondering what on earth she would write in it. She knew.

January 9th

I'm not sure who I'm writing to, or if I'm writing to anyone at all. Perhaps my older self will read this in twenty years, and I'll probably cry, because that's what older people do when they look at things they did when they were young. (Which is really strange).

Anyways, we're two days into our four day vacation in New York City. "We" meaning York and I. It seems like now, everything is "we." I've become a package deal—a team—and I never thought that it would change me this much.

Something was different tonight. Something felt very real. Not that my relationship with York has felt fake, it's just that... Something clicked. It felt like I was in another world, really.

We were standing at the top of that hill, and we had one of our weird arguments. It wasn't an argument, really, but there's always a little bit of tension between us. I guess it's always going to be like that in these circumstances.

Anyway, York told me to put on my favourite song. I wondered if York has a favourite song—maybe she reads lyrics and decides that way. Anyway, as we stood there, it was like time slipped away. I've never felt that before. I've felt time pass, but this was different. It was as if time didn't exist.

And maybe York and I don't need time. I don't know what it is that York and I need—if anything. And I'm not so sure that we do need anything other than ourselves.

I fell in love with York to the sound of Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol. And then it occurred to me: York fell in love to the sound of silence.

She doesn't understand what I would do to change that. If I had the power, I would. And I hope she knows that. I'm trying to show her that. But it's hard to show someone something you wish you could, but can't do.

I have a feeling that this journal will be filled with York, because that's where my mind is right now—and I hope that's where my mind stays. But because of this, I apologize to my older self, because it's probably quite exhausting. I hope, though, that my older self will be reading this with York's older self. And if not, I hope I didn't just make my older self cry.

Shawn never knew music like that of the person you love sleeping quietly beside you. With every breath a symphony began, her heart conducting a new song every second. As Shawn closed the book and set it beside her bed and turned off the light, enveloping herself in complete darkness, she lay back down, with absolutely no intention to sleep. Why would she want to sleep away time spent lying next to York?

-

The rest of the vacation passed in coffee shops that thankfully served herbal tea and bundled up in the covers of the hotel room. It was too cold to do much of anything else, and on their final day, they were too exhausted and lazy to do anything other than stop by Thomas's for lunch before heading back to Boston.

"Rachel really likes her, you know. To be honest, Nash behaves better with her than she does with either of us. I think Rachel is going to steal York from you."

Shawn rolled her eyes at Thomas as she leaned against the wall beside the front door. They were waiting for York, who was having a conversation by written notes with Rachel in the kitchen about photography and painting. It turns out that both girls have a passion for it, which they realized two nights ago. If Shawn had let them stay that night after dinner, they would've talked about it then. But because she whisked her away to that hill she'd found and kept York there for about an hour while they talked, then bringing her back to the hotel, they didn't have a chance to until now.