Page 66 of The Pucking Grump

I open my eyes, drawing harsh breaths. It’s hard to admit it, especially here. Blake has made fun of me countless times for daring to think of romance as a real concept. Enjoying a good romp doesn’t mean that he’s changed his mind.

I look down on the empty page, suddenly recalling what a lyricist said to me once: “What do you feel? Put it in writing.”

I grip my pen harder. Truth is, I can’t figure out what to do with my emotions tonight. It might take a couple of weeks, maybe even months.

But I can turn them into an amazing song.

My hand flies across the page:

Colors:

Had my life in shades of black and white,

Black studios, white walls, day and night,

Back and forth, from home to the studio light,

Trapped between the walls, in an endless flight,

Moving on without a stop, caught in this plight,

But you walked in with colors, oh so bright.

Your smile’s a pink sunrise, soft and warm,

Your touch, a yellow glow, a gentle storm,

In your care, purple hues, a love transform,

Red shadows when you’re gone, a heart torn,

Colors in my world, a new form,

Do you see them, in this love we’ve sworn?

I read it again, satisfied with the first draft. The last two lines are a little needy and might raise a few brows from people who are certain Blake is in love with me already. I wonder whether to delete them, but I decide against it. If I want to be as honest as possible, I can start by saying what I feel for a change.

I write two more verses before I flip the page and start another song titled “Betrayal,” this one about my father. I’m about halfway done when I hear a faint rustle outside.

“Hello?” I say, heart jumping to my throat. The cabin is out in the middle of nowhere. Which means that I’m totally defenseless if someone barges in here.

My mind starts to spin as the rustling grows louder. Who could it be? Someone who saw the lights and wanted to check in on Blake? The possibility’s quite slim, seeing as Blake never had a single visitor while we were here. What if it is someone else who saw the car parked outside and thought he found easy prey to rob?

The movement is nearer still. This time, I also hear footsteps coming closer, stopping at the door. I wait for a knock, but then the sound of the lock being opened reaches me, and a sliver of realization hits me.

“Faye?”

I blink. Blake is standing in front of me. He looks tired, sweat matting his hair to his forehead, his shoulders slumped and his eyes dull. But it’s him, all six-foot-three inches of him, looking as close to a Greek god as he did the first time I saw him.

“Faye?” he says again. He shrugs his bag onto the floor. Then he opens his arms wide. It feels natural to run across the room and sink into him. His sweatshirt is damp with sweat, but a hug has never felt so good.

“I thought I’d surprise you,” he mutters against my hair. “I drove here from the complex because I wanted to see you.”

“I started working on a song.” I nod at my notepad.

Blake grunts. “Good.” He pulls himself away from the hug. “I’ve got to take a shower, but then I’ll be back.”

I watch as he strides away, my relief giving way to a stronger sense of elation. I’d been okay with spending time here alone, but I have to admit that I prefer being here with him.

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