Free Swimming to Tokyo by Brenda St John Brown

strings, I can actually do it. There’s a minute where someone scrapes a chair and I turn to look, which totally freaks me out, so I have to pretend there’s no one else here. Because, honestly, the fact that I’m singing in a bar in Tokyo with Finn O’Leary is weird enough.
    I falter as I wonder how much of an idiot I’ll feel like afterward until I remember he’s promised me another song after this. And if I get through this, I’ll get that.
    We finish and the applause is loud. A few people shout. I have no idea if we were good, but my knees feel like they’re about to give out completely and I don’t care.
    Finn begins speaking as the applause dies down. “I promised Zosia if she sang with me, I’d do another, so if you’ll humor me for one more.”
    I start back to our seats, and he takes a deep breath through the microphone.
    “ She looks like she’s flying on gossamer wings
    The night is so black, you can’t see the strings
    She’s soaring, she’s floating, she’s touching the sky
    She’s an angel, a vision, a trick of my mind .”
    I freeze in the middle of the sea of chairs and face him. His voice is low, but sure. He’s done this kind of thing before. His eyes are steady on mine. He doesn’t look away once. Even when I sink down into a chair, his gaze stays locked on mine.
    My hands start to tremble, so I clasp them between my knees, and the back of my neck prickles with sweat. I feel my breath catch in my chest, like my heart needs to hold on to it just a little longer. I don’t know if I’ve ever sat straighter.
    “ I can’t help it, I watch her, frozen in place
    Afraid if I blink, she’ll go away
    I need her, I want her, an unbearable ache
    To touch her, to feel her is all it would take
    For my heart to break open, for my soul to heal
    She’s not even there, yet somehow she’s real .”
    My heart fills my chest, edging out the breath I’ve been holding. My God. He can’t possibly be singing about that night in the playground. About me. But, good Lord, the way he’s looking through me makes me think it’s possible. Hell, the way he’s looking through me right now makes me think anything’s possible. I’m transfixed, hanging on every word, every chord.
    “ My heart will break open, my soul will heal
    Maybe she’s there; God, let her be real .”
    And it’s over.
    Everyone claps. A lot.
    Except me.
    I stare and he stares back. The air crackles between us. His dark eyes drink me in; his lips part and I feel mine open in response. I’d kiss him if we weren’t twenty feet apart. I would. If he didn’t kiss me first. It could go either way, I think.
    At least until he drops his gaze. He looks back to bow at the girl organizing the singers, and when he glances back up, his face only holds a trace of the softness that was there five seconds ago. It’s gone completely by the time he meets me back at our table. His voice is casual, like the past three minutes didn’t just happen.
    “You didn’t clap at all. Good thing I got you to sing first.”
    I’ve completely forgotten that. “I…sorry. I just…your song was beautiful.” I sound as flustered as I feel.
    He shrugs and I know before he says anything else he’s going to blow it off. “It’s something I’ve been playing around with.”
    Right. My face stings, and I’m glad for the dark. My earlier facsimile of cool and flirty has been replaced by tongue-tied and bumbling. “It was really good.” My voice trails off at the end. I twirl my empty glass on the table and wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t. He’s not the type to fill an uncomfortable silence, but I can’t help it. “You know, I’m getting tired. Sorry, it’s just—”
    “No, it’s fine. It’s late.” He rises before he’s even done talking, and I follow him out of the bar. The crowd has thinned in the past couple of hours, although those who are left are definitely worse for the wear. Two guys in business suits puke outside one of the