Maybe Someday(4)

I select a pair of yoga pants and a tank top,

then grab my bag of toiletries and head to the

bathroom. It disturbs me that everything about

this apartment reminds me of my own, with just a

few subtle differences. This is the same bathroom

with the Jack-and-Jill doors on the left and right,

leading to the two bedrooms that adjoin it. One is

Ridge’s, obviously. I’m curious about who the

other bedroom belongs to but not curious enough

to open it. The Hooters girl’s one rule was to stay

the hell out of her room, and she doesn’t seem

like the type to kid around.

I shut the door that leads to the living room

and lock it, then check the locks on both doors to

the bedrooms to make sure no one can walk in. I

have no idea if anyone lives in this apartment

other than Ridge and the Hooters girl, but I don’t

want to chance it.

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I pull off my sopping clothes and throw them

into the sink to avoid soaking the floor. I turn on

the shower and wait until the water gets warm,

then step in. I stand under the stream of water

and close my eyes, thankful that I’m not still sit-

ting outside in the rain. At the same time, I’m not

really happy to be where I am, either.

I never expected my twenty-second birthday to

end with me showering in a strange apartment

and sleeping on a couch that belongs to a guy

I’ve barely known for two weeks, all at the hands

of the two people I cared about and trusted the

most.

Chapter One

TWO WEEKS EARLIER

Sydney

I slide open my balcony door and step outside,

thankful that the sun has already dipped behind

the building next door, cooling the air to what

could pass as a perfect fall temperature. Almost

on cue, the sound of his guitar floats across the

courtyard as I take a seat and lean back into the

patio lounger. I tell Tori I come out here to get

homework done, because I don’t want to admit

that the guitar is the only reason I’m outside

every night at eight, like clockwork.

For weeks now, the guy in the apartment

across the courtyard has sat on his balcony and

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played for at least an hour. Every night, I sit out-

side and listen.

I’ve noticed a few other neighbors come out to

their balconies when he’s playing, but no one is

as loyal as I am. I don’t understand how someone

could hear these songs and not crave them day

after day. Then again, music has always been a

passion of mine, so maybe I’m just a little more

infatuated with his sound than other people are.

I’ve played the piano for as long as I can remem-

ber, and although I’ve never shared it with any-

one, I love writing music. I even switched my

major to music education two years ago. My plan

is to be an elementary music teacher, although if

my father had his way, I’d still be prelaw.

“A life of mediocrity is a waste of a life,” he

said when I informed him that I was changing my

major.

A life of mediocrity. I find that more amusing than insulting, since he seems to be the most dis-satisfied person I’ve ever known. And he’s a law-

yer. Go figure.

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One of the familiar songs ends and the guy

with the guitar begins to play something he’s

never played before. I’ve grown accustomed to

his unofficial playlist since he seems to practice

the same songs in the same order night after

night. However, I’ve never heard him play this

particular song before. The way he’s repeating

the same chords makes me think he’s creating the

song right here on the spot. I like that I’m wit-

nessing this, especially since after only a few

chords, it’s already my new favorite. All his

songs sound like originals. I wonder if he per-

forms them locally or if he just writes them for

fun.

I lean forward in the chair, rest my arms on the

edge of the balcony, and watch him. His balcony

is directly across the courtyard, far enough away

that I don’t feel weird when I watch him but

close enough that I make sure I’m never watch-

ing him when Hunter’s around. I don’t think

Hunter would like the fact that I’ve developed a

tiny crush on this guy’s talent.

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I can’t deny it, though. Anyone who watches

how passionately this guy plays would crush on

his talent. The way he keeps his eyes closed the

entire time, focusing intently on every stroke

against every guitar string. I like it best when he

sits cross-legged with the guitar upright between

his legs. He pulls it against his chest and plays it

like a stand-up bass, keeping his eyes closed the

whole time. It’s so mesmerizing to watch him