Authors: J.E. Warren
Anna runs her hand over the worn-out cover. “Why would you need one? I mean, you seem to know every song in existence off by heart.”
“It’s from when I was starting out, back when I would forget words through a combination of nerves and a terrible memory.”
“I see. You don’t use it anymore, then?”
“Not really, God knows why it’s still in there,” Charlie lies even though it’s much too late to stop her from flicking through the pages.
When she stops on one, she lifts it up closer to her face and she squints, snorts a little. “‘Afternoon Delight’…cor blimey! You actually played this one?”
He feels a blush creep to his cheeks that mixes with the shame at the thought that he actually once had. Back when he was young, eager to build up a strong repertoire of golden oldies and classic tunes. Stupidly gullible to have believed the lyrics of such a cheerful, summery-sounding song were nothing but light-hearted. Innocently unaware of its suggestive lyrics and connotations, which he only really grasped after an old friend had told him it wasn’t a suitable choice to play at a family barbeque.
“Hands up, I’ll admit it. I did.”
“Oh dear.”
“Only once, though. Okay, maybe a few times, but I learnt my lesson, hence the big black marker lines across the title. To remind myself not to sing it ever again.”
“Probably a wise idea,” Anna says, racing through more pages that contain printouts of cheesy ballads and three chord one-hit wonders.
“Shall I pour us some wine, my lady, whilst you continue to find more embarrassing songs to shame me with?” he asks, hoping it might just tear her attention away from his crummy old book, which it does with success as she holds the cups steady so he can pour and make sure hers is filled right to the brim.
Then he raises a toast—to the New Year and all its infinite possibilities and to all that has come before and gone. Charlie offers out his cup to cross under her arm, so they can drink with faces near and lips close.
Toasting in silence to the spot where he’d first caught her attention and how it had changed the course of his life. Thanking fate and destiny with every warm sip.
As Anna’s lips hang on the edge of the cup, she softly whispers cheers, and he can’t help but let the excitement and joy rush through his veins at the thought that things are once again great. Because he really couldn’t have predicted he’d be back here with her years later with all the memories created and shared. Hoping that all the best is still yet to come.
When she places her near-to-empty cup on the pavement, she picks back up his tatty book and lands a finger on a page. Bouncing up and down like her winter boots are made of springs lets him know that she’s found the perfect one to play and that there’s really nothing to worry about.
How it will all fall into place and how the future feels less scary with a joyful and breathtakingly wondrous Anna beside him.
“Found it. This one, Charlie.”
“Okay.”
“Let’s play ‘Your Song’.”
Because he’s too caught up in finely tuning the new strings on his guitar, he doesn’t look at the plastic page she’s waving about.
“So, shall we then?”
“Oh. Right. Hold on, did you say
my song
? Because nothing I’ve written is in there,” he replies, listening for the last note to sync with the others. His hands move up and down the fret board with familiar ease.
“No, silly, I meant let’s play ‘Your Song’ by Elton John. It’s right here, on the last page. It’s not crossed out either, so I’m assuming it meets your approval.”
“Ah, yeah, of course it does. Forgot it was in there.” The truth is different, however, because he’d included it in the hopes that one day he’d have someone to actually sing it to, someone of merit instead of busy commuters and disinterested tourists.
And now, under the bright lights of the city and its New Year’s glow it turns out he finally does.
Struggling with the page, Anna almost drops the book. “The paper won’t come out from the plastic wallet. Damn it.”
“Do we need it? I can still play from memory, I think…”
“Okay, let’s just wing it, see what happens. But promise you’ll ignore my slightly tipsy, off-key singing.”
“You have a great voice.”
“Like a wailing alley cat, more like.” Her loud laughter cuts through the first delicately plucked notes as he slowly builds up to the intro.
“Love it,” Charlie hears her whisper when he continues to let the strings press deep into his fingertips. “I love it, but most importantly
I love you
.”
He’s thankful that he’s not got to the singing part yet because the lump in his throat feels like it won’t let anything pass. Anna’s last words ring throughout his whole world as he tries in earnest to reply properly. So she can hear and feel the words
I love you too
, and the true weight of just what they mean.
With her head gently resting against his arm, she slowly joins in to sing the first line. Cautiously and quietly at first until he can feel her voice vibrate through him.
Charlie doesn’t mind. He’s content and happy to just make it up as they go along as the plastic pages of the book on the pavement turn and bend to the wind with each chord struck.
It doesn’t matter either that they’re forgetting some of the lines, as the soft rise of her voice blends into his. Because he’s sure he’ll never forget the wonder and beauty around them as the fireworks across the city light up the sky all at once in a hazy glow. Set against the chimes of Big Ben and cheers of passers-by.
How he knows for certain that he’ll always remember such a moment with Anna close by his side, hands intertwined. Her big brown eyes looking up in awe.
And when calm falls upon the street and Charlie has kissed her like he’ll never ever forget, they pick up from where they’ve left off.
To sing, as loud as their lungs will allow, a song that could have very well been written just for them.
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Acknowledgments
Of all the stories I have written, this was the hardest, yet also the one I am most proud of. There are many people who have stuck by me and supported
Lines We Forget
from conception right through to the very end, and for that I am so grateful.
To the team at Limitless Publishing—Thank you for believing in Anna and Charlie’s story, for giving it a new lease of life, and for the chance to extend it out to the world.
To my family and friends—For many of you this will be the first time reading, though I know that you will be proud and so supportive once you have. I hope that you enjoy it as much as I have writing it.
To the many readers and authors from the wonderful world of Wattpad—I would, without a shadow of a doubt, not be writing this if it weren’t for your wonderful, kind and humbling words and early support. So many of you believed in this story from the start, and for that I am appreciative, lucky, and very thankful, more than words will allow. Just know that you all helped in so many different and brilliant ways.
To Michelle Jo Quinn—For all your encouragement, wise words of wisdom, and advice. From the get-go you believed in this story, offering praise that I surely needed to get this far, and you inspired confidence and self-belief, which I am so very thankful for.
To the lovely Lucy Rhodes–Thank you for all the kind words in the very early days of LWF and for being a great supporter of my work.
To my high school English teacher, Mr. P—It’s unsurprising that your class was the only one I enjoyed growing up. I fondly remember many a lesson discussing the importance of strong protagonists and character arcs, usually and
unusually
in the form of dissecting
The Matrix
,
Fight Club
, or
LOTR
with your students. Thank you for instilling the want and need to create my own.
To Eloise—My first critic, first pair of eyes, the one who has helped and encouraged. And though you are now half a world away, you are the best friend a gal could ever wish for. Thank you for being immensely supportive, for being ace at keeping a secret, for believing I could achieve this dream and for always being interested in what I’ve been up to these last couple of years, which is this, of course!
And lastly to Josh—You’ve been there since the beginning. Before this, during and long after I’m sure. I am very grateful that you’ve being so understanding of the space and time needed to realise my dreams. Even when I was struggling you were there to gently listen, to encourage and to most importantly let me know that however hard it may be, it is always possible.
Thank you.
About the Author
J.E.Warren
currently resides in a somewhat sleepy seaside town, and is a British Romance/YA writer who has a long standing love for milky tea, travel, shaggy haired 90’s band
Hanson
, and small dogs.
She enjoys writing and bringing to life realistic and relatable characters, especially strong, sharp and savvy females who aren’t afraid to speak their mind.
Music has always played a big part in her life–from noisy rock to reggae, folk to pop punk and everything in else between. And is a constant source of inspiration when writing, especially when plotting new ways to steal reader’s hearts, or make them swoon (usually with the help of guitar playing heartthrobs.)
When she’s not writing, J.E likes to curate perfect playlists—of which she has many, and catch up on her favourite shows (
again too many
), though you can be certain to find Buffy The Vampire Slayer on heavy rotation.
“
Life is too short so love the one you got.”
–Sublime