Maybe Someday(54)

I focus on the lyrics and think about what he

said. Ridge was right. I wasn’t thinking about the

fact that a guy would be singing them. I was fo-

cused on pouring my feelings onto paper. I close

my eyes and try to picture Ridge singing the

song.

I try to imagine what it would be like to be

honest about what I’m feeling for him and use

that to take the lyrics a little further. I open my

eyes and cross out the first line of the song, then

begin rewriting the first verse.

Watching him from here

Seeing something from so far away

Get a little closer every day

Thinking that I want to make it mine

I think the real reason I’m not able to write to-

night is that every line that ends up on paper is

about Ridge, and I know Ridge will be able to

see through it. He pulled the lyrics out of the

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trash and already read through them, so he has to

have an idea. Still . . . he’s here, wanting me to

finish the song. I focus on the second verse and

try to keep his advice in mind.

I’d run for him you if I could stand

But I can’t make that demand

What I want I can’t demand

’Cause what I want is you

I continue to go through the lyrics on the page,

crossing out the old lines and changing them up

as Ridge plays the song several times.

If I could be his, I would wait

And if I can’t be yours now

I’ll wait here on this ground

Till you come, till you take me away

Maybe someday

Maybe someday

The page becomes messy and hard to read, so I

set it aside and open my notebook to rewrite

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everything. Ridge stops playing for a few

minutes while I transfer everything onto the new

page. When I look up at him, he points to the

page, wanting to read what I’ve written. I nod.

He walks to the bed and sits next to me, lean-

ing in toward me to read what I’ve got so far.

I’m extremely aware that he might see right

through the lyrics and know they have more to do

with him than with Hunter, which causes panic to

course through my veins. He pulls the notebook

closer to him, but it’s still on my lap. His

shoulder is pressed to mine, and his face is so

close he could probably feel my breath against

his cheek . . . if I were breathing. I force my eyes

to fall where his have, onto the lyrics rewritten

across the page on my lap.

I try to ignore what you say

You turn to me

I turn away

Ridge picks up the pen and marks through the

last line, then tilts his head to face me. He points

the pen at himself and makes a writing motion in

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the air, indicating that he wants to change

something.

I nod, full of nerves and fear that he doesn’t

like it. He presses his pen to the paper, next to the lyrics he crossed out. He pauses for a few

seconds before writing and slowly turns to face

me again. His expression is full of trepidation,

and I’m curious about what’s causing it. His eyes

fall from mine, slowly grazing over me until his

attention is back on the page. He inhales and

carefully exhales, then begins writing the new

lyrics. I watch him write out the lyrics to the en-

tire song as I follow closely along, deciphering

the new lyrics he adds in himself.

MAYBE SOMEDAY

Seeing something from so far away

Get a little closer every day

Thinking that I want to make it mine

I’d run for you if I could stand

But what I want I can’t demand

’Cause what I want is you

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Chorus:

And if I can’t be yours now

I’ll wait here on this ground

Till you come

Till you take me away

Maybe Someday

Maybe Someday

I try to ignore what you say

You turn to me, I turn away

But Cupid must have shot me twice

I smell your perfume on my bed

Thoughts of you invade my head

Truths are written, never said

Repeat Chorus

You say it’s wrong, but it feels right

You cut me loose, then hold on tight

Words unfinished, like our song

Nothing good can come this way

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Lines are drawn, but then they fade

For her I bend, for you I break

Repeat Chorus

When he’s finished writing, he sets the pen down

across the paper. His eyes turn to mine again, and

I don’t know if he’s expecting me to respond to

what he just wrote, but I can’t. I’m trying not to

allow myself to feel as if there’s any truth behind

his lyrics, but his words from the first night we

wrote together flash through my head.

“They’re your words, Sydney. Words that

came from you.”