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