I gripped at the wooden armrest of the chair I was sitting in. “No, they’ve been … fine.” A lie, but I didn’t want to talk about them, because then we would have had to talk about other stuff—Lyric stuff.
He had set the pen he was writing with down. “What about flashbacks? Are you having any of those?”
I shook my head. “No, not for a while.”
He overlapped his fingers on top of his organized desk, considering something. “You know I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”
I wiped my sweaty palms on the front of my jeans. “I’m just stressed out over school,” I had lied, to avoid what was really bothering me. Lyric. That kiss. The way our lips touched. The way my heart races in panic every time I even think about it. I could only imagine what would happen if I spoke about it aloud.
He sighed, something he did when he was letting my silence slide, yet wasn’t thrilled about it.
An hour later, I’m running around my room like a chicken with its head cut off, searching for my guitar. I can’t remember where I left it last night, can’t remember much of anything over the last week. My thoughts are scattered, my dreams more vivid, my control gone.
All this from a kiss I can’t get out of my head.
But it wasn’t just the kiss. It was …
Lips. Aching. A touch.
The contact. The connection.
The rush.
It brought my soul back
to life.
And I’m fucking terrified.
I haven’t kissed anyone since before I was put into the system. Haven’t kissed anyone because I wanted to. I’ve been kissed a few times—I remember that much about my past—but I can’t remember exactly how they happened. Won’t remember.
I had cracked open Pandora’s Box with the dancing at the club, but it flew right open with the kiss. A kiss I clearly wasn’t ready for, even if it was the best kiss I’ve ever fucking had. Life would have been a lot simpler if all my kisses were like that.
But they weren’t.
And life isn’t simple.
Now, I’m trapped in a scarred body that cringes whenever it has to endure human contact, except for when it comes to Lyric. I didn’t cringe during that kiss. Not once. Which was good. The whole point of it was to try and erase the pain William caused from her eyes. If I could just get over the helpless, out of control fear I feel whenever I’m around her now, things will be golden.
But my soul is out.
Surfaced above the years of pain.
Fuck. I need to stop thinking.
Focus on finding my guitar. Yes, find the guitar. Much more simple.
I look out my window toward Lyric’s house. Maybe that’s where I left it. But am I that desperate to go over there and find out?
Lyric suddenly appears through her window, jumping around and singing at the top of her lungs. I still have yet to hear her sing, but I can imagine the warm sound of her voice and those incredibly soft lips of hers creating striking songs.
Amazing songs.
That I want to drink out of her.
Taste.
Fuck, I’m losing my Goddamn mind.
My phone rings from my back pocket, and I let out a breath in relief at the distraction. I fish it out, figuring it’s Sage calling to see if I’m on my way to band practice.
“I’m on my way now,” I answer without checking my screen as I reach for my wallet on the nightstand.
“That’s super awesome.” It’s Lyric’s voice that fills the line and my heart flutters. Actually fucking flutters, like I’m some lovesick puppy. “But I just called to ask why on earth you’ve been staring at my bedroom window. You’ve been doing it for like five minutes, and it’s starting to get a little bit creepy.”
I frown when I spot her waving at me through her window.
“What’s wrong?” she asks. “You’ve been acting a little strange lately. More and more like the shy boy I first met, the one who would barely utter a few stray sentences to me. I’m not losing you, am I? Because we made a deal to be friends, and my deals are unbreakable. If you want out of them, there’s this big huge test I have to give you, and I know how much you hate tests.”
Lyric has never mentioned a single word about the kiss, which I’m both relieved and upset about. She’s been her light, full of sunshine self, acting as if she’s completely unaffected.
“I’m fine. Our friendship is fine. Everything is fantastic. I promise.” I turn my back to the window, silently begging for my guitar to miraculously appear in my room, but it doesn’t. “I just can’t find my guitar anywhere.”
“That’s because it’s over here, you goofball. Remember, last night at family dinner when you were playing with my dad and me, which FYI totally made his day. Although he’s never actually said it, I think he secretly wishes he had a son sometimes. Or at least a daughter who doesn’t suffer from stage fright.”
“I’m sure he loves you, Lyric, whether you get over that or not.”
“Of course he does. That’s not what I meant. I think he’s just super stoked that you could become his protégé.” She lets out a wicked laugh at the end, the effortless sound splintering the weight on my chest.
“Hey, could you bring my guitar down to the driveway? I’m late for practice, and I know Sage is going to be sending me nasty texts soon.”
“Sure thing, shy boy. I’ll be right out.”
She hangs up before I can say anything else.
I feel like banging my head on the wall, because now I’ve got to go down and see her again for the fiftieth time since the kiss, and I know I’m going to get all awkward again.
Get it together.
Get it together.
I grab the car keys and jog down the stairs and out to the driveway. Lyric is already waiting for me on the fence with her long legs dangling over the side and my guitar case on her lap. Her blonde hair is braided to the side, and she doesn’t have a drop of makeup on, revealing her freckles and perfection.
God, she’s beautiful.
“So, I was thinking,” she says as I approach her, “that I could go to your practice with you.”
I pause at the fence line, stuffing my wallet into my back pocket. “Why?”
She frowns as she hops off the fence. “Well, I didn’t expect that sullen reaction.” She shoves my guitar at me then adjusts the bottom of her purple shirt lower so her stomach is covered up. She’s done that a lot over the last week. She’s also worn a lot of jeans, as if trying to cover herself up more, like she blames how she dressed on what happened.