Wright that Got Away (Wright)

No. One take was going to have to do.

“I have to get changed for the second shot.”

“All right,” he said, strumming a different tune. One that I’d never heard before. His eyes focused on the strings. “What should I do?”

“You’re going to be in this one with your guitar, singing. Maybe put your leather jacket back on.”

“And you?” he asked, meeting my eyes, still playing that strange melody.

I liked it. It was catchy. Not like anything I’d heard from him before. I wondered what it was.

“You’ll see.”

I hurried into my bedroom and leaned back against the door. This was harder than I’d thought. Frankly, I hadn’t had much time to think about how it would affect me. I’d pay for this later.

But I didn’t have time now.

So, I pulled on my big-girl panties and got to work. I curled my hair into long, voluminous waves and worked my signature fringe bangs for all they were worth. My makeup wasn’t heavy, but it was still statement makeup. Smoky eyes, winged eyeliner, a cherry-red lip. I considered wearing a sexy outfit to complete the official glow-up, but that wasn’t what I was going for. Instead, I reached farther back in my closet and pulled out a long, flowy black skirt with a million pleats and an ash-gray crop top. I tugged on my Docs just to give it enough of an edge. It wasn’t sexy in the traditional sense. But it was me…and it matched Campbell.

I swallowed hard before stepping out of my room to find Campbell had added lyrics to the tune he was messing with. I didn’t catch them before he came to an abrupt halt, his eyes fixed on me.

He didn’t say a word. Just devoured me with his eyes.

I turned in place. “You think this works?”

“It looks like what you wore in high school.”

“That’s the idea,” I muttered. I hated the next words that came out of my mouth. Even though I knew they were what I should do. “I thought we could record it a couple of times in a few different outfits, and then I could cut them together. To show I’m always the same girl. In this, in my athleisure kits, in my soccer uniform, that sort of thing.”

“And I’ll just be like this?”

“Isn’t that exactly who you are?”

He could barely drag his eyes away from me long enough to look down at himself. “I’d probably change the guitar.”

I laughed, a soft, melodic thing, and he jerked his gaze back up to me.

“What?” I asked warily.

“I just…haven’t heard you laugh in a while.”

“I laugh,” I said defensively.

“Not around me.”

I bit my lip and hurried toward the camera. Well, if I didn’t laugh around him, I had good reason.

“Let’s do a test run, yeah?” I said, going straight back to business.

“Sure. Whatever you want.”

He adjusted himself on the stool I’d brought over for him so that he was in the shot. I set up right where I had been, and he drew in tight next to me. I swallowed at his nearness. Fuck, he was so close. And I’d signed up for this.

I could back out. I could bail on what was happening. But, damn, it would be good for my career.

So, I gritted my teeth and ignored the yawning, gaping need that had formed in Campbell’s presence. The want that millions of girls worldwide felt around him. And I was only different in that I’d had him before he was famous. I needed to keep reminding myself of that fact. It wasn’t real. This wasn’t real. It was just history. Nothing more.

“Okay. We’re set up. We’ll try this take.”

“Start over from the chorus?” he asked, settling into the stool.

“Sure. Or right before the chorus.”

He nodded as his fingers moved effortlessly across the guitar. I pressed the red circle on my phone to record and then stood next to him. For a moment, I let my eyes drift up from the guitar and to his face. His eyes were fixed on the guitar as he hummed the lyrics to get us into position.

Then, he started to sing, and everything in the entire world fell away as I catapulted back in time.

My body might have been in the present, standing before Campbell as he sang “I See the Real You.” But I was no longer there.

I was sitting on my bed, back at my parents’ house. Campbell waited outside in the cold, frantically texting me to see when my mom would be gone. Then, he tumbled in through the window, laughing as he worried more about his guitar than the gash at his knee.

“Shh,” I whispered even though I had the house to myself.

He sat up and drew me to him, kissing my lips so hot and fierce and needy that I almost forgot what he was doing here. His hands were halfway up my sweater before I giggled and shoved him backward.