Maybe Someday(7)

“I can’t. I have class.”

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I grab her wrists and pin her arms above her

head, then press my lips to hers. I know she

won’t stay another night. She’s never missed a

day of class in her life, unless she was too sick to

move. I sort of wish she was feeling a little sick

right now, so I could make her stay in bed with

me.

I slide my hands from her wrists, delicately up

her arms until I’m cupping her face. Then I give

her one final kiss before I reluctantly pull away

from her. “Go. And be careful. Let me know

when you make it home.”

She nods and pushes herself off the bed. She

reaches across me and grabs her shirt, then pulls

it on over her head. I watch her as she walks

around the room and gathers the clothes I pulled

off her in a hurry.

After five years of dating, most couples would

have moved in together by now. However, most

peoples’ other halves aren’t Maggie. She’s so

fiercely independent it’s almost intimidating. But

it’s understandable, considering how her life has

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gone. She’s been caring for her grandfather since

I met her. Before that, she spent the majority of

her teenage years helping him care for her grand-

mother, who died when Maggie was sixteen.

Now that her grandfather is in a nursing home,

she finally has a chance to live alone while fin-

ishing school, and as much as I want her here

with me, I also know how important this intern-

ship is for her. So for the next year, I’ll suck it up while she’s in San Antonio and I’m here in

Austin. I’ll be damned if I ever move out of

Austin, especially for San Antonio.

Unless she asked, of course.

“Tell your brother I said good luck.” She’s

standing in my bedroom doorway, poised to

leave. “And you need to quit beating yourself up,

Ridge. Musicians have blocks, just like writers

do. You’ll find your muse again. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

She smiles and backs out of my bedroom. I

groan, knowing she’s trying to be positive with

the whole writer’s block thing, but I can’t stop

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stressing about it. I don’t know if it’s because

Brennan has so much riding on these songs now

or if it’s because I’m completely tapped out, but

the words just aren’t coming. Without lyrics I’m

confident in, it’s hard to feel good about the actu-

al musical aspect of writing.

My phone vibrates. It’s a text from Brennan,

which only makes me feel worse about the fact

that I’m stuck.

Brennan: It’s been weeks. Please tell me

you have something.

Me: Working on it. How’s the tour?

Brennan: Good, but remind me not to al-

low Warren to schedule this many gigs on

the next leg.

Me: Gigs are what gets your name out

there.

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Brennan: OUR name. I’m not telling you

again to stop acting like you aren’t half of

this.

Me: I won’t be half if I can’t work through

this damn block.

Brennan: Maybe you should get out more.

Cause some unnecessary drama in your

life. Break up with Maggie for the sake of

art. She’ll understand. Heartache helps

with lyrical inspiration. Don’t you ever

listen to country?

Me: Good idea. I’ll tell Maggie you sug-

gested that.

Brennan: Nothing I say or do could ever

make Maggie hate me. Give her a kiss for

me, and get to writing. Our careers are

resting squarely on your shoulders.

Me: Asshole.

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Brennan: Ah! Is that anger I detect in

your text? Use it. Go write an angry song

about how much you hate your little

brother, then send it to me. ;)

Me: Yeah. I’ll give it to you after you fi-

nally get your shit out of your old bed-

room. Bridgette’s sister might move in

next month.

Brennan: Have you ever met Brandi?

Me: No. Do I want to?

Brennan: Only if you want to live with two

Bridgettes.

Me: Oh, shit.

Brennan: Exactly. TTYL.

I close out the text to Brennan and open up a

text to Warren.

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Me: We’re good to go on the roommate

search. Brennan says hell no to Brandi. I’ll

let you break the news to Bridgette, since

you two get along so well.

Warren: Well, motherf*cker.

I laugh and hop off the bed, then head to the

patio with my guitar. It’s almost eight, and I

know she’ll be on her balcony. I don’t know how

weird my actions are about to seem to her, but all

I can do is try. I’ve got nothing to lose.

Chapter Two