Maybe Someday (Maybe 1)

I continue to go through the lyrics on the page, crossing out the old lines and changing them up as Ridge plays the song several times.

If I could be his, I would wait

And if I can’t be yours now

I’ll wait here on this ground

Till you come, till you take me away

Maybe someday

Maybe someday

The page becomes messy and hard to read, so I set it aside and open my notebook to rewrite everything. Ridge stops playing for a few minutes while I transfer everything onto the new page. When I look up at him, he points to the page, wanting to read what I’ve written. I nod.

He walks to the bed and sits next to me, leaning in toward me to read what I’ve got so far.

I’m extremely aware that he might see right through the lyrics and know they have more to do with him than with Hunter, which causes panic to course through my veins. He pulls the notebook closer to him, but it’s still on my lap. His shoulder is pressed to mine, and his face is so close he could probably feel my breath against his cheek . . . if I were breathing. I force my eyes to fall where his have, onto the lyrics rewritten across the page on my lap.

I try to ignore what you say

You turn to me

I turn away

Ridge picks up the pen and marks through the last line, then tilts his head to face me. He points the pen at himself and makes a writing motion in the air, indicating that he wants to change something.

I nod, full of nerves and fear that he doesn’t like it. He presses his pen to the paper, next to the lyrics he crossed out. He pauses for a few seconds before writing and slowly turns to face me again. His expression is full of trepidation, and I’m curious about what’s causing it. His eyes fall from mine, slowly grazing over me until his attention is back on the page. He inhales and carefully exhales, then begins writing the new lyrics. I watch him write out the lyrics to the entire song as I follow closely along, deciphering the new lyrics he adds in himself.

MAYBE SOMEDAY

Seeing something from so far away

Get a little closer every day

Thinking that I want to make it mine

I’d run for you if I could stand

But what I want I can’t demand

’Cause what I want is you

Chorus:

And if I can’t be yours now

I’ll wait here on this ground

Till you come

Till you take me away

Maybe Someday

Maybe Someday

I try to ignore what you say

You turn to me, I turn away

But Cupid must have shot me twice

I smell your perfume on my bed

Thoughts of you invade my head

Truths are written, never said

Repeat Chorus

You say it’s wrong, but it feels right

You cut me loose, then hold on tight

Words unfinished, like our song

Nothing good can come this way

Lines are drawn, but then they fade

For her I bend, for you I break

Repeat Chorus

When he’s finished writing, he sets the pen down across the paper. His eyes turn to mine again, and I don’t know if he’s expecting me to respond to what he just wrote, but I can’t. I’m trying not to allow myself to feel as if there’s any truth behind his lyrics, but his words from the first night we wrote together flash through my head.

“They’re your words, Sydney. Words that came from you.”

He was telling me then that lyrics have truth behind them, because they come from somewhere inside the person who wrote them. I look back down at the page.

For her I bend, for you I break

Oh, my God, I can’t. I didn’t ask for this. I don’t want this.

But it feels so good. His words feel good, his closeness feels good, his eyes searching mine make my heart go haywire, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out how something that feels like this can be so wrong.

I’m not a bad person.

Ridge isn’t a bad person.

How can two good people who both have such good intentions end up with feelings, derived from all the goodness, that are so incredibly bad?

Ridge’s expression grows more concerned, and he pulls his gaze away from mine and picks up his phone.

Ridge: Are you okay?

Ha. Am I okay? Yeah. That’s why my palms are sweating and my chest is heaving and I’m clenching the sheet beside me on the bed so I don’t do something to him with these hands that I’ll never forgive myself for.

I nod, then gently push him aside as I stand up and walk to the bathroom. I shut the door behind me and lean against it, closing my eyes and silently repeating the mantra in my head that I’ve been repeating for weeks now.

Maggie, Maggie, Maggie, Maggie, Maggie.

Ridge