Wright that Got Away (Wright)

I’d spent the last eight years making sure not a damn person knew that I was the girl behind “I See the Real You.” Then, he had almost ruined the entire thing in one go. It was bad enough that Hollin and Piper had figured out that we had history. The last thing I wanted was for the entire world to know.

“Well, you were the idiot who jumped up, as if you were protecting my virtue,” I snapped at him.

He rocked back on his heels and nodded. “Yeah. I…wasn’t really thinking.”

“Whatever,” I groused.

Silence lingered between us. As if Campbell didn’t know what to say to not make me upset. And I had nothing left to say to him. I was beginning to sober up, and I just wanted Piper to hurry the hell up.

“We could…try to be friends.” He looked up at me under his long, dark lashes.

“Friends,” I said with a sardonic laugh. “In what world?”

“All of our friends are friends. It might be easier if we…acted like we were, too.”

“We’ve never been friends, Campbell.”

“That’s not true,” he said with a frustrated sigh. “We were friends in high school.”

I laughed right in his face at that. “You’re unbelievable. Please do not try to give me revisionist history. I was there. You were the most popular boy in school despite not giving a single fuck that you didn’t dress or act like any of the other popular kids and you played no sports. You just had it. You always have. And I was nobody.”

“You weren’t nobody.”

I glared at him now. The alcohol only fueling my rage. “Shut up. I was absolutely nobody. I was the weird smart kid. I wore giant glasses and had a bob haircut that my mom did herself. I was in chorus but was way too shy to ever audition for a solo. And I played soccer but not for the high school team because the girls were horrible to loser me.”

“And now, you have a million followers.”

“Three and a half million,” I corrected him.

He tilted his head at me. “Proof that it doesn’t matter who you were in high school.”

“That is a fact, but again, we were never friends. You weren’t friends with the loner girl.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “I was invisible to you…to everybody.”

“Until you weren’t.”

“Yes,” I whispered. “I was either invisible or everything to you, and I’m not going to be satisfied with a middle ground. So…just pretend you can’t see me anymore.”

Campbell was silent for a few seconds at my proclamation. Then, he said, “That sounds like a song.”

I groaned. “Fuck you, Campbell.”

He blinked at me in confusion, as if coming up from underwater. “What?”

“I’m tired of being the girl with a song.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but I didn’t want to hear it. I was tired of waiting on Piper. I didn’t want to stand here any longer and listen to Campbell’s bullshit. One thing was clear: we were never going to be friends.

So, I pushed off the Jeep and strode back toward the winery. And I was glad that Campbell didn’t follow me or try to change my mind. It made all of this easier.

Part II

Invisible Girl

6

Campbell

The next morning, I slept through three alarms and two angry phone calls.

“Fuck,” I spat as I raced out of bed and threw on a pair of ripped jeans, a black T-shirt, and tennis shoes.

I was staying in a hotel ten minutes from Hollin’s place. He’d told me to just fucking move in for however long I was here, but I was used to my own space and my own stuff. I wasn’t sure how comfortable I should get in Lubbock. And considering Bobby’s appearance last night, it seemed like I’d made the right call.

I drove across town in the Range Rover I’d purchased when I got into town. Sharing Hollin’s house was one thing; not having my own wheels was another. Truthfully, I’d thought I’d be here longer. It hadn’t felt frivolous at the time.

Hollin’s truck was parked in the driveway. My dad’s car and my aunt’s classic orange VW bug that she’d refurbished herself at the mechanic shop she worked at were parked on the street. They must have been inside because when I pulled up behind them, only Hollin was in view.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Hollin asked, carrying a giant box on his shoulder.

“Overslept.” I swiped sleep out of my eyes. “Sorry.”

“You look like shit.”

I ran a hand back through my mussed hair. It was not artfully done. It was just a wreck. “Thanks.”

Hollin dropped the box into the back of his pickup and turned to face me. “You left before I did last night. Why are you so tired?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

Which was true but not the real reason. Something had happened last night. After that very angry conversation with Blaire, a light had flickered on in my head. All those months on the road, all that time I’d been struggling with my lyrics, even while writing the last album, and last night had just changed it all.