Maybe Someday(52)

are more accurate and honest than the things they

say when they’re sober.”

I nod, unsure if that’s a true fact or just a Brid-

gette fact. She stands up and walks swiftly to the

door, then swings it open.

Oh, no.

She’s about to kill Warren, and it’s partly my

fault. I stand up and rush to the door, prepared to

catch the blame for telling her what Warren said.

However, once I reach the living room, she’s

swinging her leg over his, sliding onto his lap.

Warren’s eyes are wide, and he’s looking at her

in fear, which tells me this isn’t one of her usual

moves.

Bridgette takes Warren’s face in her hands,

and he hesitantly brings his hands to her lower

back. She sighs, staring him hard in the eyes. “I

can’t believe I’m falling in love with such a stu-

pid, stupid *,” she says to him.

He stares at her for several seconds while her

comment registers, and then his hands fly up to

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the back of her head and he crashes their lips to-

gether. He scoots forward and stands with Brid-

gette wrapped around him. Then, without break-

ing for air, he takes her directly to his bedroom,

where the door shuts behind them.

I’m smiling, because Bridgette is more than

likely the only girl in existence who could pull

off calling someone an * and in the same

breath confess her love. And oddly enough, War-

ren is probably one of the few guys who would

find that appealing.

They’re perfect for each other.

Ridge: How in the hell did you pull that

one off? I was waiting for her to come out

here and strangle him. You spend two

minutes with her, and she’s all over him.

Me: She’s actually not as bad as she

seems.

Ridge: Really?

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Me: Well, maybe she is. But I guess I ad-

mire that about her. She’s true to herself.

Ridge smiles, sets his phone down, and drops

his eyes back to his laptop. There’s something

different about him now. I can’t pinpoint exactly

what it is, but I can see it in his eyes. He looks

distraught. Or sad. Or maybe just tired?

He actually looks like a little bit of all three,

and it makes me hurt for him. When I first met

him, he seemed to have everything together. Now

that I’ve gotten to know him better, I’m begin-

ning to think that’s not the case. The guy stand-

ing in front of me right now looks as if his life is

a mess, and I haven’t even begun to scratch the

surface.

Ridge: I’m still a little behind on work, but

I should be caught up by tonight. If you

feel like running through a new song, you

know where to find me.

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Me: Sounds good. I have an afternoon

study group, but I’ll be back by seven.

He smiles halfheartedly and heads to his room.

I know I’m beginning to understand most of his

expressions. The one he just shot me was defin-

itely a look of nervousness.

Ridge

I assumed she didn’t feel like writing tonight

when she didn’t show, and I told myself I was

okay with that.

However, it’s a few minutes past eight, and my

light just flickered. I can’t ignore the rush of ad-

renaline pumping through me. I tell myself my

body is having the reaction it’s having because

I’m passionate about writing music, but if that

were the case, why don’t I get this excited when I

write alone? Or with Brennan?

I close my eyes and gently lay my guitar next

to me while inhaling a steady breath. It’s been

weeks since we’ve done this. Since the night she

let me hear her sing and it completely changed

the dynamic of our working relationship.

That’s not her fault, though. I’m not even sure

if it’s my fault. It’s nature’s fault, because

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attraction is an ugly beast, and I’ll be damned if I

don’t conquer it.

I can do this.

I open the door to my bedroom and step aside

while she comes in with her notebook and her

laptop. She walks confidently toward the bed and

drops down onto it, then opens her laptop. I sit

back down and open mine.

Sydney: I couldn’t pay attention in class

today, because all I wanted to do was

write lyrics. I wouldn’t let myself write

any, though, because it comes so much

better when you play. I’ve missed this. I

didn’t think I would like it at first, and it

made me nervous, but I love writing lyr-

ics. Love, love, love it. Let’s go, I’m ready.

She’s smiling at me and giddily patting her

palms against the mattress.

I smile back as I lean against the headboard