Wright that Got Away (Wright)

“God, what was in those emails, Campbell?”

He met my gaze evenly. “Nothing. I just asked if we could meet up, and then you—she—agreed. I never mentioned anything about the past, and clearly, she doesn’t know that we know each other.”

“Well, that’s a relief at least.”

“Yeah,” he said, his gaze darting away again. “I guess I should go then. I can’t imagine you actually wanted to see me today.”

I hadn’t. And…I had.

I absolutely would have told him no if I were the one who had gotten the email from him. But now that he was here, I just couldn’t send him away either.

“Might as well come inside.”

“Really?” he asked, straightening in surprise.

“Yeah.” I opened the door wider. “You said you wanted to talk to me?”

“I do.”

“Then, come on in.”

Campbell glanced at me uncertainly one more time before stepping across the threshold and into the house. I closed the door behind him, releasing a quick breath. I was doing this. I was inviting Campbell into my house when no one else was home. It felt like a recipe for disaster or just a remembrance of that girl who had been wild enough to sneak him into her bedroom every night. Carefree enough to fall in love.

“Sorry about Honey again,” I said, suddenly self-conscious with him so close.

He propped his guitar against the dining room table. Then, he shucked off his signature leather jacket, draping it across the back of one of the wooden chairs. I couldn’t imagine how he could have been comfortable in this heat in that jacket. I knew it was what he always wore, but still.

“I probably should have guessed. I don’t usually check my email either unless my publicist tells me to,” he admitted.

“What a life.”

“Yeah.” He shrugged.

“Why were you wearing that?” I blurted. “You do know it’s a hundred degrees outside.”

“A hundred and two actually.”

“That’s outrageous. You don’t have to live your LA life here in Lubbock. No one cares if you survive by wearing shorts.”

His eyes finally found mine. “You—well, I guess, Honey—asked me to wear it.”

“She did?” I asked, horrified. “Oh God.” I sank into an oversize armchair. “I am so sorry.”

He brushed it off. “It’s no big deal. I wear it onstage until I’m sweating through it most shows anyway. I’ve kind of gotten used to it.”

“Still.” I shook my head. “Why did you even agree to any of this? I thought you weren’t even on social media.”

“I’m not. Not really. I have it. It’s mostly managed by someone else, but I find it difficult to navigate and be creative.”

“No kidding.” I exhaled harshly. “So…why would you film this challenge?”

He stared fixedly at the floor. As if he couldn’t even meet my eyes. Couldn’t get the words past his teeth.

I crossed my arms across my stomach, bracing myself for his answer. It couldn’t be good. There had to be a catch. Something that was going to hurt me. I didn’t know what, but he was silent for a reason.

Then, finally, with a practiced slowness, he looked at me. “For you, Blaire? Anything.”

I swallowed around those words. Dear God, those words. If only they were true. If only he had been willing to give me everything. We wouldn’t be sitting here in this hollow moment, aching for something we could never have.

I jumped to my feet. “Fine. Then, let’s do it.”

“What?” He stumbled over the word. “Do what?”

“Record the video.”

Confusion clouded his features. “I thought you didn’t want to.”

“Well, I don’t, but Honey, as wrong as her actions were, was right. The followers are clamoring for me to do this challenge. I’ve been avoiding it—for obvious reasons. But you’re here.” And he was here. So close to me. Closer than he had been in years. I had no idea what he wanted to talk to me about, but I just knew that I didn’t want him to go. “So, we might as well.”

“What do you want me to do?”

And that was all the answer I needed.

10

Blaire

The challenge itself was simple. Especially how Nate had started it out as a glow-up to “show the real you.” But that wasn’t my message, and I knew that it wasn’t what Campbell had meant when he wrote the song. He’d meant that I wasn’t the girl I showed everyone else. I was his girl. He had seen the truth.

Which meant that in the video…Campbell had to see the real me again.

I set up the camera with him out of sight. Just me in the first frame, staring off into the distance. I pulled my hair up into a high pony and brushed my bangs out of my face. Campbell strummed the tune of his most popular hit, and I lip-synced the words to the camera. Coy and distant. The girl I’d been in high school.

Then, I cut the camera. I didn’t even watch it to see if it needed a second take. I didn’t know how many times I could hear him sing that song. Let alone on an acoustic guitar with just his rich vocals a foot away from me. It ripped through every layer of the walls I’d put up around myself.