Maybe Someday(67)

we’re together. I don’t question what’s inspiring

me or what they mean.

I don’t question it . . . because it’s obvious.

But it’s art. Art is just an expression. An ex-

pression isn’t the same as an act, as much as it

sometimes feels that way. Writing lyrics isn’t the

same as directly informing someone of your

feelings.

Is it?

I keep my eyes on the paper and continue to

write the words I honestly wish I didn’t feel.

The second I’m finished writing, I’m so

worked up I don’t allow myself to witness her re-

action to the words. I quickly hand her back the

notebook and pull my guitar around and begin

playing so she can work through the chorus.

Chapter Fourteen

Sydney

He’s not looking at me. He doesn’t even know

I’m not singing the lyrics. I can’t sing them. I’ve listened to him play this song dozens of times

from his balcony, yet it never held emotion or

meaning until this moment.

The fact that he can’t even look at me makes

the song feel way too personal. It feels as if this

song somehow just became his song to me. I turn

the notebook over, not wanting to read the words

anymore. This song is just one more thing that

never should have happened, even though I’m

positive it’s my new favorite.

Me: Do you think Brennan can make a

rough cut of this one? I want to hear it.

379/692

I nudge him with my foot after I send the text,

then nod toward his phone when he looks at me.

He picks it up to read the text and nods. He

doesn’t reply or make eye contact with me,

though. I glance back down to my phone as the

room grows quiet in the absence of the sound of

his guitar. I don’t like how awkward things just

got between us, so I attempt to make small talk to

fill the void. I roll onto my back and type out a

question that’s been on my mind for a while to

break up the stillness around us.

Me: Why don’t you ever practice on your

balcony like you used to?

This question gets me immediate eye contact

from him, but it doesn’t last. His eyes flicker

across my face, down my body, and finally back

to his phone.

Ridge: Why would I? You’re not out there

anymore.

380/692

And just like that, my defenses are down, and

my willpower is shot to hell with his honest

reply. I nervously pull my bottom lip in and chew

on it, then slowly raise my eyes back to his. He’s

looking at me as if he wishes he were a guy like

Hunter who cared only about himself.

He’s not the only one wishing that.

I want to be Tori right now so much it hurts. I

want to be just like her and not give a shit about

my self-respect or about Maggie for just a few

minutes. Long enough to allow him to do

everything his lyrics make clear he wants to do.

His eyes fall to my lips, and my mouth runs

dry.

His eyes fall to my chest, and it begins to

heave deeper than it already was.

His eyes fall to my legs, and I have to cross

them, because the way his gaze penetrates my

body makes it seem as though he can see right

through this dress I’m wearing.

His eyes close tightly, and knowing the effect

I’m having on him makes me feel as if there

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might be a lot more truth to his lyrics than he’d

like there to be.

It’s making me feel like I want to be the only

man that you ever see.

Ridge suddenly stands and drops his phone

onto the bed, then walks straight into the bath-

room and slams the door. I listen as the shower

curtain slides open and the water kicks on.

I roll onto my back and release all my pent-up

breaths. I’m flustered and confused and angry. I

don’t like the situation we’ve put ourselves in,

and I know for a fact that even though we haven’t

acted on it again, nothing about this is innocent.

I sit up on the bed, then quickly stand. I need

to get out of his room before it completely closes

in on me. Just as I’m walking away from the bed,

Ridge’s phone vibrates on the mattress. I look

down at it.

Maggie: I’m missing you extra hard today.

When you’re finished writing with Sydney,

can we video chat? I need to see you. ;)

382/692

I stare at her text.

I hate her text.

I hate that she knows we were just writing

together.

I hate that he tells her everything.

I want these moments to belong to me and

Ridge and no one else.

? ? ?

It’s been two hours since he got out of the
shower, and I can’t bring myself to leave my bed-

room. I’m starving, though, and really want to go