Me: I’m planning a show, and I need your help. We’ll do it locally.
Brennan: What kind of show? Full band?
Me: No, just you and me. Maybe Warren if he’ll sign for us.
Brennan: Why do I feel like this has to do with Sydney?
Me: Why do I feel like I don’t care what you feel like?
Brennan: The ball is in her court, Ridge. You really should just leave things alone until she’s ready. I know how you feel about her, and I don’t want
you to screw it up.
Me: March 18 is still three months away. If she hasn’t made up her mind by that date, then all I’m doing is giving her a little shove. And when did you start giving relationship advice? How long has it been since you were in one? Oh, wait. That would be never.
Brennan: If I agree to help you, will you STFU? What do you need me to do?
Me: Just carve out some time for me between now and then to run through some new songs.
Brennan: Is someone over his writer’s block?
Me: Yeah, well, someone once told me heartache is good for lyrical inspiration. Unfortunately, he was right.
Brennan: Sounds like a smart guy.
I close out my texts to Brennan and open one up to Warren.
Me: March 18. I need a local venue. A small one. Then I need you to get Sydney to go there with you that night.
Warren: Is she supposed to know you orchestrated this?
Me: No. Lie to her.
Warren: Not a problem. I’m good at lying.
I set my phone down, pick up my guitar, and walk out onto my balcony. It’s been almost a month since I last saw her. Neither of us has texted the other. I know Warren still keeps in contact with her, but he refuses to tell me anything, so I just stopped asking. As much as I miss her and as much as I want to beg her to just let this begin with us, I know time is better for both of us right now. There was still too much guilt rolled up in the thought of starting something too soon, despite how much we wanted to be together. Waiting until we’re both in a good place is definitely what needs to happen.
However, I feel as if I’m already there. Maybe it’s easier for me because I know where Maggie and I stand, and I know where my heart stands, but Sydney doesn’t have that reassurance. If time will give her that reassurance, then I’ll give her time. Just not too much. March 18 is only three months away. I hope to hell she’s ready by then, because I’m not sure I can keep myself away from her for longer than that.
I scoot my chair to the edge of the balcony and fold my arms over the railing, then look over at her old balcony. Every time I come out here and see her empty chair, it makes all of this so much harder. But I can’t seem to find anything inside my apartment that reminds me of her anymore. She left nothing when she moved, and she really never had anything while she was here. Being outside on this balcony is the closest I can come to feeling her since it seems we’re so far apart.
I lean back in my chair, pick up a pen, and begin writing the lyrics to another song, with nothing but her on my mind.
The cool air running through my hair
Nights like these, doesn’t seem fair
For you and I to be so far away
The stars all shimmer like a melody
Like they’re playing for you and me
But only I can hear their sounds.
I pick up my guitar and work through the first few chords. I want these songs to be enough to convince her that we’re ready, so every single thing has to be perfect. I’m just nervous that I’m relying too much on Warren to help make it happen. I hope he’s more reliable in this situation with Sydney than he is with his rent checks.
Chapter Twenty Five
Sydney
“I’m not going.”
“Yes, you are,” Warren says, kicking my legs off the coffee table. “I’m bored out of my mind. Bridgette works all weekend, and Ridge is off doing God knows what with God knows who.”
I immediately look up at him with my heart caught in my throat.
He laughs. “That got your attention.” He reaches forward, grabs my hands, and pulls me off the couch. “I’m kidding. Ridge is at home working, being a mopey little shit, just like you’re trying to be. Now, go get pretty and come out with me tonight, or I’ll sit on the couch with you and force you to watch porn.”
I pull my hands from his and walk to the kitchen. I open a cabinet, then grab a cup. “I don’t want to go out tonight, Warren. I had class all day, and it’s my only night off from the library. I’m sure you can find someone else to go with you.” I grab a container of juice from the refrigerator and fill my glass. Leaning against the counter, I take a sip as I watch Warren pout in my living room. He’s kind of adorable when he pouts, which is why I always give him such a hard time.
“Listen up, Syd,” he says, walking toward the kitchen. He grabs a bar stool and pulls it out, then takes a seat. “I’m about to lay things out for you, okay?”
I roll my eyes. “I doubt I can stop you, so go ahead.”
He lays his palms flat on the counter in front of him and leans forward. “You suck.”
I laugh. “That’s it? That’s what you needed to lay out for me?”
He nods. “You suck. So does Ridge. Since the night I gave him your address, you’ve both sucked. All he does is work or write music. He doesn’t even play pranks on me anymore. Every time I’m over here, you’re just focused on studying. You never want to go out. You never want to hear my sex stories anymore.”
“Correction,” I say, interrupting him. “I’ve never wanted to hear your sex stories. That’s nothing new.”
“Whatever,” he says, shaking his head. “My point is that the two of you are miserable. I know you need time and blah, blah, blah, but that doesn’t mean you have to give up fun while you’re figuring your life out. I want to go have fun. No one wants to have fun with me anymore, and that’s all your fault, because you’re the only one who can put a stop to the misery you and Ridge are going through. So, yes. You suck. You suck, you suck, you suck. And if you want to stop sucking so much, then go get dressed so we can go out and not suck together for just a few hours.”
I don’t know how to argue with that. I do suck. I suck, I suck, I suck. Only Warren could put it in such a simple, straightforward way that would actually make sense. I know I’ve been miserable the past few months, and it doesn’t help to know that Ridge has been miserable, too. He’s miserable because he’s sitting around waiting for me to get over whatever it is that’s keeping me from contacting him.
The last thing he said in his letter to me was Just say when.
I’ve been trying to say when since the moment I read that letter, but I’m just too scared. I’ve never felt about anyone or anything the way I feel about him, and the thought of our not working out is enough to keep me from saying that one little word. I feel as if the longer we wait and the more time we have to heal, the better chance we’ll have at our maybe someday.
I keep waiting for the moment when I know for sure that he’s moved on from Maggie. I keep waiting for the moment when I know for sure that he’s ready to commit fully to me. I keep waiting for the moment when I know for sure that I’m not going to be consumed with guilt for allowing myself to trust someone with my heart again.
I don’t know when I’ll get to that point, and it hurts to know that my inability to move forward is holding Ridge back.
“Now,” Warren says, shoving me out of the kitchen. “Get dressed.”
• • •
I can’t believe I’ve let him talk me into this. I check my makeup one last time and grab my purse. As soon as he sees me, he shakes his head. I huff and throw my hands in the air.
“What now?” I sigh. “I’m not dressed appropriately?”
“You look great, but I want you to wear the blue dress.”
“I burned that dress, remember?” I say.
“The hell you did,” he says, pushing me back toward my bedroom. “You were wearing it last week when I stopped by. Go put it on so we can leave.”
I spin around to face him. “I know how much you like that dress, and wearing it tonight while I’m out with you is a little too creepy, Warren.”
He narrows his eyes. “Listen, Syd. I don’t mean to be rude, but all this moping around for the past few months has caused you to put on a little weight. Your ass looks huge in those jeans. The blue dress may be able to hide a little of that, so go put it on, or I might be too embarrassed to go out with you.”
; I suddenly feel like slapping him again, but I know he’s just got a peculiar sense of humor. I also know he might have a completely different reason for why he wants me to wear this dress and I’m trying not to let