Chapter 12
Lyric
In the silence
of my soul, there is a breathless ache
desperately seeking air.
Like I’m dead, yet alive.
Breathing yet suffocating.
Then I felt your lips.
The softest touch
kissed my mouth,
and my soul sang to life.
For the very first time
you showed me a taste of life.
That’s what I wrote after Ayden kissed me. That’s what constantly floods my thoughts day and night, over and over again. I want another taste of it—of what his kiss brought me. But he’s been acting so strange since it happened. Twitchy. Smiling less. And I have no idea how to act around him other than be super happy twenty-four seven, even after what I discovered about him tonight while searching around on the internet—an article about his past.
“Are you sure about this?” I ask Ayden as I stand in the middle of the room with my eyes closed. I have earplugs in my ears, a microphone in my hand, and my heart’s thudding like a jackhammer.
“Not really!” he shouts out. “But it doesn’t hurt to try it out!”
“True.” I dither, trying to decide if I want to do this.
Suddenly his fingers circle my wrists, and I feel his face dip toward my ear. “Relax. It’s just me and Sage in the room. Two people. That’s all.” His breath is hot on my cheek, making the air sweltering.
I nod as my fingers grasp the microphone. “Okay.”
“Okay, you’re ready to do this?”
I nod then fist bump the air. I hear him chuckle, but the sound gets lost as he moves away from me.
A heartbeat or two later, the music is cranked up. Lyrics by Flyleaf surround me and it’s perfect. I know for a fact that Ayden picked out this song, because he knows how much I love the band. The thought relaxes me for about two seconds until it’s time for me to sing then my voice locks up in my throat.
Shit. I’m so going to throw up.
My eyelids start to lift up as panic sets in, but warm fingers touch my wrists again.
“Relax!” Ayden shouts over the music. “I’ve got your back, dude.”
I snort a laugh then relax.
Calm. That’s all I feel.
I don’t know why, but I open my eyes.
My gaze meets Ayden’s grey eyes.
I think about the lyrics I wrote the other day.
My inspiration.
The stuff I dreamed about for years.
Friends or not, I’m using our kiss to my benefit.
I put the microphone up to my mouth.
Then I start to sing.
I sing like my life depends on it. Sing like I’ve always dreamed of doing. Sing as though my heart is going to burst if I don’t scream out every emotion through the lyrics.
I’ll admit, for the first thirty seconds or so, my voice is wobbly and off pitch. I start to grow concerned that maybe my life dream of singing is going to be a behind-closed-doors sort of thing. I pop the earplugs out, so I can hear myself. It helps. My voice gains stability. I unstiffen. Loosen up.
I begin dancing around the room, and Ayden laughs at me, his smile so bright his eyes crinkle around the corners. There’s something in his expression, something I’ve never seen before, and it causes the room to spin. So I spin with it, jumping up and down, belting out the lyrics until I finally let go and get really crazy.
I shove Ayden back on the sofa and straddle his lap, singing and putting on a show for him. His eyes widen at my overly friendly touch, and his arms tense out to the side. I’m excited, rubbing my hands up and down his chest, thinking about that kiss, how amazing it was, how it exceeded the bar I set and then some. If only I could have him, but after what I found out ... I’m not sure I ever can.
I know I’m pushing him right now, and usually I’d stop, but I can’t stop. I love this moment. Touching him. Singing. Being in the moment. So I keep going, shoving aside any self-protest until the song ends.
And the moment ends.
And I feel so sad for him again.
I’m sweating, exhausted, and fucking content as I climb off Ayden’s lap.
“So, how’d I do?” I pant, moving the microphone away from my mouth.
Sage is staring at me with his arms crossed over his chest. I don’t know him well enough to read him, but if I had to guess, he kind of looks impressed.
Sage trades a questioning look with Ayden. “You think we could rock the girl singer image?”
I sternly point at Sage. “Don’t insult my girliness. I rocked the crap out of that song.”
He fiddles with one of his eyebrow rings. “That you did.” His eyes scroll over me then he sticks out his hand. “What do you say, Lyric? You want to be the singer of Hearts and Scars.”
I’m starting to reach out to take his hand, but withdraw. “I will, but on one condition.”
His expression twists with confusion. “And what’s that?”
“We totally change the name to something way less cliché.”
“Change the name? Are you kidding me? We spent two months coming up with that name.”
“And it sucks balls, so maybe you should let me come up with one. I can even ask my dad for input,” I add enticingly.
His eyes light up as he considers my offer. “All right, you have a deal, Lyric.”
We shake on it, and he holds onto my hand way longer than necessary. Who knows why, nor do I care.
I turn to Ayden, grinning like an idiot. He doesn’t seem as happy about the agreement as I am, though.
“What’s wrong, shy boy?” I wipe the sweat from my brow.
He collects his guitar from the couch. “Nothing.”
My hand falls to my side. “I totally should have asked you if you were okay with this, right?”
“Why wouldn’t I be okay with this?” He slides the guitar strap over his head with his head down, his black hair shielding his eyes from my view.
“Because this is your guy thing.” I gesture around the garage. “And I just crashed it with my girliness.” Or is it about my inappropriate touching?
He shakes his head. “I can assure you that’s the last thing I was thinking. I love your girliness.”
“Then what are you thinking?” I smooth my thumb between his brows, trying to erase his worry.
His fingers strangle the guitar. “Lyric, I think we should—”
Sage clears his throat from behind us. “Nolan just pulled up.” He points over his shoulder, appearing uncomfortable as fuck, like he just caught Ayden and I having sex. “You two better be ready to play.”
“Okay.” I direct my attention back to Ayden. “What were you going to say?”
“Nothing.” Ayden strains a smile. “I’m fine. I promise. Now quit worrying and go rock your ass off.” He plugs the cord into the amp and focuses on tuning his guitar.
I hate this. This last week has sucked big time, and now he suddenly seems even quieter. I want my Ayden back.
“Are you sure you’re sure?”
All he does is nod.
It hurts that he might be upset with me. Makes me want to curl up in a ball and cry.
But Nolan strolls in before I can utter a word.
“Who’s fucking ready to get this…?” He trails off mid-sentence as he kicks the door shut. “Why are you here?”
From what I understand, Nolan rocks the bass. He looks more like a lead singer in a boy band than anything. Spikey blond hair, blue eyes, these crazy full lips that don’t seem like they should belong to a guy, yet they do. He wears a lot of skinny jeans, too, and fitted shirts, more hipster than rock star.
“Wow, hello to you, too,” I joke as I rotate the volume knob on the amp.
He rolls his eyes as he shucks off his jacket then drapes it on a hook near the door. “As much as I adore you, Lyric, I don’t find your sarcasm funny.”
I pull a face. I’ve known Nolan since ninth grade, and while we’re not technically friends, I know him well enough that I can mess around with him. “Yes, you do. Don’t lie.”
He snorts a laugh as he weaves around the sofa to collect his guitar from the corner of the room. “Fine, you’re amusing.” He picks up the guitar and slides the handle over his head. “But seriously, why are you here?”