Maybe Someday (Maybe #1)(55)

The way she had been touching my hair was a very natural thing for her to do, considering the way we were positioned. It’s what a guy would do to his girlfriend if he were holding her against his chest, and it’s what a girl would do to her boyfriend if he were wrapped around her. But we aren’t those things.

The relationship we have is different from anything I’ve experienced. Mostly because we do have a lot of physical closeness based on the nature of writing music together and the fact that I have to use my sense of touch to replace my sense of hearing in some situations. So while we’re in those situations, the lines become muddy, and reactions become unintentional.

As much as I wish I could admit we’ve moved past our attraction for each other, I can’t deny that I feel mine growing with each day that passes. Being around her isn’t necessarily hard all the time, though. Just most of the time.

Whatever is going on between us, I know Maggie wouldn’t approve, and I try to do right by my relationship with her. However, since I can’t really define where the line is drawn between inappropriate and appropriate, it makes it hard to stay on the right side sometimes.

Like right now.

I’m staring down at my phone, about to text her, and she’s leaning behind me, both of her hands kneading the tension out of my shoulders. With as much writing as we’ve been doing and the fact that I sit on the floor now instead of the bed, I’ve had a few issues with my back. It’s become natural for her to rub it when she knows it’s hurting.

Would I let her do this when Maggie was in the room? Hell, no. Do I stop her? No. Should I? Absolutely.

I know without a doubt that I don’t want to cheat on Maggie. I’ve never been that type of guy, and I don’t ever want to be that type of guy. The problem is, I’m not thinking about Maggie when I’m with Sydney. The times I spend with Sydney are spent with Sydney, and nothing else crosses my mind. But the times I spend with Maggie are spent with Maggie. I don’t think about Sydney.

It’s as though times with Maggie and times with Sydney occur on two different planets. Planets that don’t intersect and in time zones that don’t overlap.

Until tomorrow, anyway.

We’ve all spent time together in the past, but not since I’ve been honest with myself about how I feel for Sydney. And although I would never want Maggie to know I’ve developed feelings for someone else, I’m worried she’ll be able to tell.

I tell myself that with enough effort, I can learn to control my feelings. But then Sydney will do or say something or give me a look, and I can literally feel the part of my heart that belongs to her getting fuller. As much as I want it to empty. I’m worried that feelings are the one thing in our lives that we have absolutely no control over.





Chapter Fifteen


Sydney

Me: What’s taking you so long? Are you writing a damn book?

I don’t know if my rubbing his shoulders is putting him to sleep, but he’s been staring at his phone for five solid minutes.

Ridge: Sorry. Lost in thought.

Me: I can see that. So, Sounds of Cedar?

Ridge: It’s kind of a long story. Let me grab my laptop.

I open up our Facebook messages on my phone. When he returns, he leans against a counter several feet away from me. I’m aware of the fact that he’s put space between us, and it makes me feel somewhat uncomfortable, because I know I shouldn’t have been rubbing his shoulders. It’s too much, considering what’s happened between us in the past, but I feel as if it’s my fault his shoulders hurt in the first place.

He doesn’t really complain about what playing on the floor is doing to him, but I can tell it hurts sometimes. Especially after nights like last night, when we wrote for three hours straight. I asked him to start playing on the floor to help with the fact that things seem to be more difficult when he’s on the bed. If I didn’t still have such a huge crush on his guitar playing, it might not be as big a problem.

But I do still have a definite crush on his guitar playing. And I would say I have a definite crush on him, but crush doesn’t even begin to define it. I’m not even going to try to define how I feel about him, because I refuse to let my thoughts go there. Not now and not ever.

Ridge: We had all been playing together for fun for about six months before we got our first real gig at a local restaurant. They needed us to give them the name of our band so they could put us on the schedule. We had never really considered ourselves an actual band before that, since it was all in fun, but that night, we agreed that maybe for local things like the restaurant, it would be good to have a name. We all took turns throwing out suggestions, but we couldn’t seem to agree on anything. At one point, Brennan suggested we call ourselves Freak Frogs. I laughed. I told him it sounded like a punk band, that we needed a title with more of an acoustic sound. He got upset and said I shouldn’t really be allowed to comment on how music or titles sound, since, well, yay for lame deaf jokes from sixteen-year-old little brothers.

Anyway, Warren didn’t like how cocky Brennan was back then, so he said I should choose the name and everyone had to agree on it. Brennan got pissed and walked off, said he didn’t want to be in the band anyway. I knew he was just having a Brennan tantrum. He didn’t have them often, but when he did have them, I understood. I mean, the kid had virtually no parents, and he was raising himself, so I thought he was pretty damn mature despite the sporadic tantrums. I told the guys I wanted to think on it for a while. I tried to come up with names that I thought would mean something to everyone, but mostly to Brennan. I thought back on what got me into listening to music in the first place.