The Duet(28)

She never liked the way I wrote my music, my style, my prose

But I said I’d change break rewrite it all



I thought I’d fix it all, but then she walked away

She told me to

She taught me everything I needed to say,

But still those edges started to strip and fray



I read and reread the lyrics, trying to decipher how long ago he’d written them. There were dried coffee stains across the paper and some of the lines he’d written in pencil were completely faded. It was tempting to tear the page off and take it back to my room so that I could keep studying it, but the moment I bent to grab the pad, I heard footsteps on the gravel drive below and I jumped back, fearing someone had seen me snooping. After a minute of holding in my breath, I decided to take the food tray inside, but leave his notepad. He’d come back for it and I didn’t want him to know I’d read it. Even if it was just the front page. Those lyrics felt personal, more personal than Jason probably intended to be with me.

LuAnne thanked me for the tray when I brought it to her in the kitchen and I spent the rest of the afternoon lying on my bed, breaking apart his lyrics until my mind started to unravel each word.

I wanted to know who he’d written those lyrics about— if they were real or fiction.





Chapter Nine





“We had our first writing session yesterday,” I said into the phone’s receiver.

Cammie hummed, “Aaaand?”

“Umm,” I stared up at my white ceiling, trying to find a one-word answer to that question. There wasn’t one. “It was pretty terrible. Our performance will probably be worse than a Kanye-Taylor-Swift duet. “Imma let you finish”, but we had the worst chemistry ever.”

“I see,” she said, drawing out the “e” sound like a psychic reading a fortune. “Did you get any lyrics done?”

I laughed, “Not a line.”

“Wow. You two are destined for greatness, I can tell.”

Choosing to ignore her statement, even if it was pretty accurate, I rolled out of bed and headed toward my closet to pick out an outfit for the day.

“How’s your school stuff? Have you given Grayson a call yet?” I asked, sliding sweaters and jackets aside before landing on a black tunic dress that would keep me warm enough if I paired it with my fitted leather jacket and knee-high boots.

“It’s going well. I finished that model last night, so now—”

“Oh, that’s funny. I finished off a model the other night, too.”

“Oh, God. Are you talking about that Colombian guy?”

“Um, he was Brazilian and he has a name. I just don’t happen to remember it.”

“Gross. Well, I hope you washed your hands since then. Anyway, now I’m drafting plans for an urban, mixed-use development.”

“Huh, that urban model had plenty of mixed-uses, too.”

“That’s the last sexual, architecture-based pun you get to use for the day,” she warned.

“Alright, fine. I don’t even know what half those words mean anyway.”

She laughed, “Basically, it’s a building with restaurants and shops on the bottom floor and apartments on top.”

“Ah. See, you should just talk to me like I’m a toddler and I’ll totally understand you.”

“I already do that so, no worries.”

“Har Har. Hey, you never told me if you called Grayson,” I reminded her.

“What? Oh weird, can’t hear you. The phone is cutting out, koshcshckshhhhh.”

“I can hear you just fine.”

“What? Nope. Sorry, no habla ingles.”

Then the phone went dead because my little sister is a total liarface.

I didn’t bother calling her back. If she wanted to be weird about the Grayson situation, I’d let her. It was her future career, not mine. I’d call Grayson in a few days and check with him. Maybe if he called her, she would realize that he didn’t hate her like she thought he did.

I was still contemplating that thought when I heard a knock on my door followed by another two. I glanced down to the pajamas I’d worn to bed and froze. My boobs were definitely on display, like somehow they’d fallen out of my tank top during my sleep. It’s not like I was a buxom wench from some renaissance fair, but I had my fair share of cleavage.

“Hold on!” I called as I flew toward the bathroom to grab the robe that was hanging behind the door.

Once I was wrapped up, I walked to the door and opened it to find Jason standing there. He’d been staring out the window at the end of the hallway, probably annoyed that I’d made him wait all of five seconds. When he heard the door open, he turned toward me and scanned down the robe that ended at my mid-thigh. His eyes blazed over my skin, and I swore I saw a hint of interest in his eyes, hidden deep behind his mask of cockiness. I looked down, trying to take in the view from his angle, but then my eyes landed on my toe nails and I laughed.