Stand By Me: A Sweet Lesbian Romance

“Are you sure?” I asked, turning my hand palm-side up before taking her hand in mine. “No one’s around, so—”

“I’m fine.” Her face flushed, and when she averted her gaze, I knew the words were because of her nerves instead of me. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Take all the time you need.”

Starting the car, I put the music on low in case she needed something to calm her mind. It worked. Her hand eased under my touch, her shoulders relaxing once she released a long breath, one of which she’d probably been holding back since we first arrived.

“Is this okay?” I asked, referring to the song I’d turned on.

It was mostly instrumental with a handful of vocals, but nothing too sad or crazy.

“Yes, thank you.”

“So, this is going to sound strange, but I have to ask… does being a songwriter and singer make you appreciate other music more or less?”

She looked at me and laughed. “Just because I sing, that doesn’t mean I’ve lost the enjoyment from listening to someone else. To be honest, I get tired of listening to my own music, but I kind of have to in order to find any issues with the track before it gets shipped.”

“I can understand that. I mean, we all get tired of listening to the same song over and over again eventually, so I can only imagine what it must be like when that music is your own.”

“My big issue is that I can always improve, you know? I eventually have to settle on my music being just good enough,

but there’s always something I could nitpick if I really wanted to.”

“You’re a perfectionist and good at your craft. I’d expect no less. I’m glad you get to enjoy other music, though.”

“It inspires me,” she said, looking past me at her mother’s gravestone. “New lyrics pop into my head all the time when I’m listening to someone else. They almost never make sense and don’t really go well together, but I write them down anyway just in case I can use a few of the words in a future piece.”

“I know we all listen to music to get an emotional high, to relax, or let go, but how does it feel to sing?”

She released a contented sigh and leaned back in the passenger seat. The look she got on her face just then was almost angelic. “Truthfully? If humans could fly, it’d probably feel a lot like that. When I hit those high notes and really push it out, nothing comes close to the way it feels. There’s a sadness there, of course, especially with a few of my older songs, but it’s usually a good feeling.”

“And if it isn’t?” If the song had the reverse effect while she was on tour, what did she do?

“If the song’s too overwhelming or if I can’t get out of my own head, I thank the crowd, get a drink of water, then take a short break. By the time I get back on stage, the gunk in my head’s no longer there.” She offered me a partial shrug, then undid her seatbelt. “The best thing I can do when it gets really bad is to push through it because, like it or not, the feeling is always temporary. Just like right now.”

With that, she opened her door and walked to my side of the car.

“Would you like some company?” I asked once I rolled down my window.

“I’d love some.”

Chapter Ten

Cass’ spirit improved the moment we walked into the shop.

Mine, on the other hand, was a different matter entirely. My stomach churned and my heart ached at the thought of her going on tour again. I’d known about it from the very start, and yet, I’d grown attached. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, her almost-daily visits had become a part of my routine, one of which I looked forward to every single day.

The entire time my sister’s told me to get laid, all I needed was a friend. I needed someone to talk to, someone who’d always have my back if I ever needed the support. Someone like Cassidy.

It wasn’t just our loss that made her easy to talk to. She was understanding, kind, and seemed as interested in my life as I was in hers. She didn’t act like a big-name celeb at all, not that I ever met any of them, but she didn’t fit the image. Sure, she concealed herself the best she could whenever we went out to eat, but once we were back in the shop or up in the tower, she was just like everyone else.

She had dreams, aspirations, and a great deal of stress pressing down on her. She didn’t talk about it, but I could tell the upcoming tour worried her, especially considering how her manager treated her. Instead of being her friend or working for her like I’d imagined, he was demanding, impatient, and rude.

Some of the texts he’d sent her while we were out to see her mom were above and beyond the worst I’d ever seen. He sounded like an angry ex-boyfriend instead of the manager he was supposed to be.

“I should probably go,” Cassidy said as we neared the front of the shop. She had her phone in front of her, her fingers tightly gripping the device.

“If you ever decided to change managers, would it interrupt your touring schedule?” I asked, curious as to why she kept him around.