Walls (Joe Jonas) Chapter Twenty Six: Twenty Questions
The curtains did little to hold back the morning light. It slipped through the seams in pale ribbons, laying soft stripes over the compact bedroom at the back of the bus. Claire woke first, tucked into the shelter of Joe's arms, her body fitted to his like she had been poured there. The air had a faint whisper of refrigerated cool that would have felt stark if not for the solid warmth of him pressed along her spine. She lay very still for a moment and let the quiet unspool around them: the muted hum of the engine, the soft breath against her hair, the steady, faithful thud of his heartbeat under her ear. She did not know when she had started listening for that sound like a compass, only that it made the world make sense.
When she shifted to see his face, his arm tightened in an instinct older than language, drawing her back as if she were something precious he might lose if he relaxed. His voice came low and rough, still heavy with sleep, a sound she felt as much as heard. "Mm. Don't move yet."
She smiled without opening her eyes. "Good morning."
He blinked awake slowly, lashes heavy, mouth curving before he brushed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Morning," he rasped, and in the husk of his voice there was the softness of being known.
"How'd you sleep?" she whispered, turning so she could see him, wanting the answer and the way he looked at her when he gave it.
"Best I've had in a while," he murmured, his nose nuzzling into her hair as though the scent of her was a promise. The small admission loosened something inside her, a knot she had not noticed pulling tight.
"Me too," she said, and the truth warmed her as it left her mouth.
His thumb traced idle circles over her hip, a slow map of belonging. He took her in with that half-amused, half-awed gaze that made her shy and brave at once. "You're dangerous like this. All soft and close and looking at me like that."
Heat stirred in her cheeks and she would have teased him, but he kissed her first. It was unhurried and sure, a kiss that tasted like the beginning of a day you already knew you would miss when it was over. She felt the smile break against her lips before he pulled back.
"If we don't stop," he said, the words roughened by intimacy, "Philly's never gonna happen. And I have plans for us."
She let out a quiet laugh that was really nerves and excitement braided together. "You do?"
"Driver's picking us up in thirty minutes. I know a few spots that are low-key." His eyes softened as if he could see the day before it happened. "We'll see the city, and no one will know."
"Just us?" The words left like a wish, and she hated how much she meant them, how the idea of being ordinary with him felt like the rarest thing.
"Just us," he said, and something certain settled between them, as tangible as the sunlight sliding across the sheets.
They got ready in the practiced making-do of touring life, trading the bathroom with a gentle choreography born from paying attention. Claire tugged on jeans and a sweater and gathered her hair at the nape of her neck, watching herself in the mirror and trying to name the expression that kept flickering through. Soft, maybe. Startled, in a way that was not fear. Behind her, Joe leaned against the dresser in sweats and a T-shirt, the sleepy grin staying with him as if sleep had made him more himself.
"What?" she asked when she caught him watching, heat blooming along her cheekbones like the day had turned the dimmer up.
"Nothing. You just look beautiful."
Her heart knocked once and then again, like it had missed a step. "Awwww that is really sweet.. but you can't..."
"Why not? It's true." His eyes met hers in the mirror. There was no performance in his voice, only the simple weight of certainty. "You're beautiful, Claire. I don't think you even realize it."
Her breath snagged and she looked away, not because she did not believe him but because believing felt like dropping her guard. "You're trouble."
"Good trouble," he said, and the kiss he pressed to her temple landed like a promise before he disappeared into the shower.
When he emerged, steam curling out with him, he was half a different man. Hoodie over curls, sunglasses, a baseball cap pulled low, black coat thrown on like a final card. The disguise should have erased him; instead it made her heart lurch in ways that surprised her. He was still him beneath all that, and maybe that was the point.
"You ready to meet... not Joe Jonas?" he teased, lifting the edge of the cap with two fingers.
She bit her lip on a laugh. "You look like you're about to drop a secret album no one's ready for."
"Perfect. Totally unrecognizable." He tugged the cap off again and rolled his eyes at himself. "The hat is overkill. . Oh the car is here."
He stepped close and cupped her face in both hands, the world narrowing to the warm press of his palms and the nearness of his mouth. "Hey wait..one more kiss before we're out there in the world."
She only had time to nod before he kissed her, quick and decisive, a seal on the morning. They were both smiling when they pulled apart.
"After you, darlin'." He opened the bus door to the crisp brightness outside, then hurried her down into the waiting SUV like the day might try to steal her if he did not keep a hand at her back.
The drive took them east into an older stretch of the city where brick row houses leaned toward one another as if sharing secrets, shutters framing crooked windows painted in the faded confidence of colors chosen decades ago. Narrow streets pressed them closer to the lived-in heart of things. Claire watched it all through the tint of the window, the morning slant of light catching on wrought iron railings and hand-lettered shop signs and the occasional bicycle chained to a post. She had always loved cities most when they were not trying, when you could feel the human story in the chipped paint and stubborn plants muscling up through cracks in the sidewalk.
They ducked into a café with a bell that gave a friendly clang when the door opened, the air inside dense with coffee and cinnamon and the faint sugar-dust perfume of pastries. Lace runners lay over mismatched tables, and the sun drew soft squares across wood rubbed smooth by years of elbows and mugs. Conversation floated in a low murmur under the hiss and sigh of the espresso machine. For a moment, she saw them as they must look from the outside: two people choosing a corner and each other.
"I think I'll get a cappuccino," she said, standing before the chalkboard menu with chalk dust caught in the flourishes of the day's specials. "And... a chocolate croissant."
"Classic," Joe said, the word warm, and then leaned toward the barista with a conspiratorial grin. "Make that two cappuccinos. One chocolate croissant. And an almond croissant too."
Claire glanced up at him, amused. "I've never had an almond croissant."
"Oh, you're about to," he said, that boyish spark appearing. "Life-changing."
They chose the corner by the window where light poured in like a benediction. Mugs arrived, steam curling in soft ghosts, and the plates were warm under her fingers when the pastries landed. She reached for the chocolate automatically, and he intercepted her with a shake of his head, tearing off a glossy shard of the almond and holding it toward her.
"Wait, you have to try this. Open up."
She laughed and ducked her head, then leaned forward and let him offer it to her. The bite broke into layers on her tongue, buttery shatter giving way to the soft, sweet almond and the faint crunch of sugar that tasted like the air itself had been sifted. Her eyes widened before she could help it. "Oh my God."
"Told you." He sat back, pleased, a little smug. "Life-changing, right?"
"Life-changingly delicious. That is amazing, Joe." She swiped her thumb along the corner of her mouth and tasted sugar there.
"Missed a spot," he said, tilting his head, the grin turning wicked and tender all at once.
She reached for a napkin, but he was already leaning across the table, one hand gentle at her jaw as he kissed the sugar away. He did it slowly, as if savoring surprise could be shared. Heat flared up her neck and washed her face.
"You can't just.." she whispered, breath catching.
"Kiss you?" He lifted his mug in mock innocence. "Why not?"
Her cheeks went warm, embarrassment and delight twining into something that felt like falling. She set her mug down, leaned across the table, and kissed him back, soft and sure. "Now we're even."
"Not even close," he winked, his thumb idly stroking her knuckles where her hand rested on the table, and the line sent a curl of anticipation through her that she tried to hide behind a sip of foam.
They lingered there in their little square of sun, letting the morning widen. They decided to play twenty questions unfurled between them with the ease of a game they had both secretly been playing already, each answer another layer pulled back.
"Favorite snack?" she asked.
"Gummy worms," he said without hesitation.
She laughed, delighted by the speed. "That was way too fast."
"They're elite. Don't judge."
"Okay, your turn," she said, tapping her finger against the mug.
"Hot Cheetos," she admitted, lifting a shoulder. "Though honestly, almond croissants might take over."
"Dangerous," he said, grinning. "And addictive. That tracks."
"First concert?" she asked, knowing she was prodding the paradox.
He raised a brow. "That's not fair. Mine was my own."
"All right, Switchfoot. My dad took us." The grin softened with memory. "What about you?"
She hesitated, then let the truth land. "Jonas Brothers."
He froze and then threw his head back and laughed, the sound ringing warm under the café's lights. "No way."
"Yes way." She hid behind her cappuccino, trying not to look too pleased with herself.
His smile shifted into something quieter, a tenderness that made her lungs forget their work. "Guess this is full circle. Were you a Joe girlie?"
"Maybe.. totally fate," she said lightly, but the word brushed against something inside her and stayed.
After the café, the day opened like a map. They wandered streets where cobblestones kept the sound of their steps close. Murals spilled across brick, riotous color softening into old stories along the edges, hands and faces and shapes that felt like they had always belonged there. Claire lifted her camera often, catching crooked shutters and window boxes and the way the light turned ordinary corners into something worth remembering. She turned the lens on Joe once, catching him in his hoodie with his mouth set in an exaggerated pout, and the photo made her laugh so purely that he dropped the pose to grin just for her.
"Dream vacation?" she asked as they walked, her shoulder touching his for a heartbeat before she let space return. She did not want to lean too much and also wanted nothing else.
"Oooh probably a Colorado cabin," he said. "Snow, fireplace, quiet."
"That's wholesome," she teased, though the picture of him stripped back to peace did something to her she had not expected.
"Tour life is chaos," he said, not complaining so much as acknowledging the weather. "I like disappearing sometimes. What would you choose?"
"Probably going to a Disney, park" she said. "Or a beach. Somewhere I can breathe and has great food." It sounded childish when she said it, but he only looked at her like he wanted to put air back in her lungs himself.
"I want to go to Disney with you someday." Joe smiled.
" I would love that!" her face lighting up with joy.
"Have you been to both coasts?"
"No only the parks in California. But I want to go to Walt Disney World so bad. Do you like rollercoasters?" Claire asked.
"Yes I loved them." Joe said.
"Me too. I'm glad that you do too, because that could have been a deal breaker." She joked, and the way his grin widened made her laugh harder than she expected. She wanted to photograph that grin, to freeze the way he looked at her when she teased him—but she decided not to. Some images lived better in memory
They continued walking down the streets of Philly, holding hands and admiring the quaint details the city had to offer. It was rich with charm and they enjoyed looking at painted artwork on the brick buildings. They crossed the street holding hands and once they made it to the edge of the sidewalk before the light changed Claire picked up her camera to snap a picture of the narrow street. Joe and Claire saw an elderly couple and they smiled as they approached.
"You too make a lovely couple." The woman said.
Joe and claire both smiled. Joe gave a soft thank you in return as her and her husband got ready to cross the street.
"Wow, that was so sweet!" Claire said.
"I know and they looked so cute together." Joe said looing back to do a doubke take. "Real love."
"Do you want to take a picture toghether? Claire asked.
"Does this count as one of your twenty questions? Joe said smug lifting his eyebrows.
"Yes, I want to take a picture." Joe said with a sweet smile taking the camera from Claire and raising it up to take a photo together. The picture captured the moment and it was almost made time stand still as the world paused for just the two of them.
"This is such a great photo." Claire said flipping through the photos. Joe smiled looking over her shoulder.
"Yes, I want you to send it to me please." he said his arm finding her back and rubbing it as they started walking down the street again.
Claire and Joe explored Philly and went in and out of store for a few hours and talked as they walked around. A few hours passed and they found a cheesesteak cart because you could not be in this city and not let the smell of sizzling onions pull you to a curb vendor. Grease hissed in happy conversation with metal. The air gathered it up and wrapped it around them. Joe leaned close under his hood, conspiratorial again. "Onions?"
She narrowed her eyes, amused by his persistence. "Does that count as one of your questions?"
"Yes please, onions and peppers. No mushrooms, though. I'm allergic."
"Oh!" Joe said playfulness fell away in an instant. He straightened as if a switch had flipped. "Mushrooms are banned forever, then." He turned to the guy at the cart with a seriousness that would have made her laugh if she were not touched by the instinct. "Two cheesesteaks please, onions and peppers, no mushrooms."
They carried the paper-wrapped weight to a sun-warmed bench and unspooled the sandwiches together. The first bite required both hands and focus. Cheese and juice ran toward their wrists; they laughed with their mouths full, trying to help each other with napkins that did not stand a chance.
"Okay." Joe wiped his hand and studied her with that unguarded attention that never felt heavy. "This question actually counts. Are you allergic to anything else I should know about?"
"Yeah," she said, thinking for a second because the list always felt like a confession. "Peanuts, pineapple, mushrooms and shellfish. Shellfish is the only deadly one, though."
He froze with a half-chewed bite, eyes widening. "Wait. No way. I'm allergic to shellfish, too."
She looked up sharply, sandwich halfway to her mouth. "Seriously?"
"Seriously." His grin came back, bright with relief at the weird miracle of it. "Guess it's a sign. We're meant to share cheesesteaks, not seafood."
She laughed so hard she had to set the sandwich down, breathing around the joy of how easy it was, how the silly things felt like proof when maybe they were only delight. "God, this is so good."
"I think Philly just ruined every other sandwich for us," he said, leaning back on the bench and watching her as if the taste was better because she was the one having it.
The afternoon led them to a record store that looked like it had been left behind by time on purpose. Dust hung in the air like glitter that had given up trying to fall, and rows of vinyl stretched under humming fluorescent lights that made the colors on the sleeves more saturated than life. The place smelled like cardboard and old paper and a hint of something sweet that might have been nostalgia.
Joe went straight to the J section and came back with a Kidz Bop album, his expression wicked. Claire clapped a hand over her heart and gasped like he had brandished a weapon. "Oh no. Dangerous blackmail material."
He slid the record back with a chuckle, unrepentant. "Oh my gosh, it has S.O.S on it," he said in mock horror, and she laughed with him until they were both doubled slightly by the surprise of it.
"Uh oh... you might have to buy it," she teased, shaking her head.
"Alright, next question. Your turn. Go-to karaoke song?"
"Don't laugh," she warned, already laughing at herself. "Since U Been Gone."
He staggered back a step like she had mortally wounded him. "Kelly Clarkson? Iconic."
"I Want It That Way," he answered without hesitation, and she could see it, Joe standing on some sticky floor in a dive bar, leading a room full of strangers home with nothing but a grin and that chorus. "Gets the whole room singing."
Claire shook her head, delighted, and snapped a picture as he dramatically posed with a random vinyl like he had just discovered it changed his life. The camera clicked, and she thought, very simply, I want this, and the thought held more than the picture in her hands could ever capture.
She drifted a few aisles down, fingers brushing over glossy covers and frayed edges, until one particular record caught her eye. She didn't pull it out just let her fingertips hover, tracing the edges as though it might vanish if she touched it too boldly. Claire circled back to it more than once, lingering without meaning to, smiling faintly at the idea of owning something so beautiful and impractical. When Joe called her over, she let her hand fall away.
Joe noticed and before they left, he slipped that very record from the bin when she wasn't looking, paid for it in a quick, quiet exchange, and then hid it in his coat and pressed the sleeve into her hands on the sidewalk.
"What's?" Claire laughed surprised taking the vinyl.
"A souvenir," he said, almost shy in the giving. "Proof of our totally incognito Philly date."
Claire froze, blinking down at the cover, her breath catching. She hadn't expected him to notice let alone buy it for her. For a second she could only stare, her throat tightening as warmth spread through her chest. "Joe... oh my gosh, how did you know? "Wow... you didn't have to, but I'm so glad you did. Joe, this is perfect."
"I wanted to," he said simply, like it was the easiest thing in the world.
Her eyes were wide with complete surprise as she hugged the record to her chest, the cardboard cool through her sweater. Then she hugged Joe tightly and kissed him. "Seriously, Joe thank you. Really. This is... God, this is such a surprise, you're so sweet." She laughed a little at herself, shaking her head, still in disbelief. "No one's ever done something like this for me."
They stood there a beat longer than necessary, her gratitude still glowing between them, her hand finally sliding into his. Their fingers laced together in a way that felt less like a decision and more like gravity. The light had gone honeyed at the edges, and somewhere a bell rang the hour. The city kept being a city, but inside their small orbit everything felt suspended like they had carved out a secret only they could touch.
Claire hugged the record close, the cardboard pressed cool against her chest, and let herself believe it this was more than chance, more than disguise. It was a day she'd never forget.
"Best date I've ever had," she whispered, and she meant every word.
Joe's smile was soft, quiet, almost reverent. He tugged his hood a little lower and leaned closer, his voice low enough to belong only to her. "Me too."
Hand in hand, they walked back the way they'd come. The evening wrapped around them like a promise as they headed the street . Even though neither said it aloud, both knew that the day wasn't over yet.
