Maybe Someday(36)

song? Feeling requires touching, and touching re-

quires hands. His hands. Feeling me.

Ridge: Do you trust me?

Me: I don’t trust anyone anymore. My

trust has been completely depleted this

week.

Ridge: Can you replenish your trust for

about five minutes? I want to feel your

voice.

I inhale, then look at him—lying next to

me—and I nod. He sets down his phone without

breaking my gaze. He’s watching me as if he’s

warning me to stay calm, but it’s having the exact

opposite effect. I’m sort of panicked right now.

207/692

He scoots closer and slides his arm under the

back of my neck.

Oh.

Now he’s even closer.

Now his face is hovering over mine. He

reaches across my body and pulls the guitar flush

against my side, bringing it closer to us. He’s still eyeing me with a look that seems intended to

produce a calming effect.

It doesn’t. It doesn’t calm me down at all.

He lowers his head to my chest, then presses

his cheek against my shirt.

Oh, this is great. Now he definitely feels how

spastic my heart is beating right now. I close my

eyes and want to die of embarrassment, but I

don’t have time for that, because he begins

strumming the strings of the guitar next to me. I

realize he’s playing with both hands, one from

underneath my head and one over me. His head is

against my chest, and I can feel his hair brush my

neck. He’s pretty much sprawled across me in or-

der to reach his guitar with both arms.

208/692

Oh, my dear sweet baby Jesus in a wicker

basket.

How does he expect me to sing?

I try to calm down by regulating my breathing,

but it’s hard when we’re positioned like this. As

usual when I miss an intro, he seamlessly starts

the song over again from the beginning. When he

reaches the point where I come in, I begin

singing. Sort of. It’s really quiet, because I’m still waiting for air to find its way back into my lungs.

After the first few lines, I find a steadiness to

my voice. I close my eyes and do my best to ima-

gine I’m simply sitting up on his bed right now

the way I have been for the last hour.

I’ll bring my suitcase

You bring that old map

We can live by the book

Or we can never go back

Feeling the breeze

Never felt so right

We’ll watch the stars

209/692

Until they fade into light

We can have everything we ever wanted

And just a little bit more

Just a little bit more

He finishes the last chord but doesn’t move. His

hands remain stilled on his guitar. His ear re-

mains firmly pressed against my chest. My

breaths are heavier now that I’ve just sung an en-

tire song, and his head rises with each intake of

air.

He sighs a deep sigh, then lifts his head and

rolls onto his back without making eye contact

with me. We lie in silence for a few minutes. I’m

not sure why he’s being so unresponsive, but I’m

too nervous to make any sudden movements. His

arm is still underneath me, and he’s making no

effort to remove it, so I’m not even sure if he’s

finished with this little experiment yet.

I’m also not sure I’d even be able to move.

Sydney, Sydney, Sydney. What are you doing?

210/692

I absolutely, positively, do not want to be having this reaction right now. It’s been a week since

I broke up with Hunter. The very last thing I

want—or even need—is to develop a crush on

this guy.

However, I’m thinking that may have

happened before this week.

Crap.

I tilt my head and look at him. He’s watching

me, but I can’t tell what his face is trying to con-

vey. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s thinking, Oh, hey, Sydney. Our mouths sure are close together.

Let’s do them a favor and close this gap.

His eyes drop to my mouth, and I’m incredibly

impressed with my telepathic abilities. His full

lips are slightly parted as he quietly takes in sev-

eral slow, deep breaths.

I can actually hear him breathing, which sur-

prises me, because that’s another of his sounds

that he keeps complete and total control over. I

like that he can’t seem to control it right now. As

much as I claim to want to be unattached from

211/692

guys and independent and strong, the only thing

I’m thinking is how much I wish he would take

complete and total control over me. I want him to

dominate this situation by rolling on top of me

and forcing that incredible mouth onto mine, ren-

dering me completely dependent on him for

breath.

My phone receives a text, interrupting my