Page 14 of Forbidden Lyrics

“Soooo,” I drag out the word, tapping my hand against my upper thigh in rhythm with my racing heartbeat. “What’s new with the band? Anything fun and exciting?”

He gives me the side-eye. “Not much.”

“Aw, so you’re only chatty when we’re discussing my life. Noted,” I quip.

After rolling his eyes, he mutters, “I’m working on a new song.”

“And?”

“And it’s going okay,” he hedges.

I bite my lip to keep from smiling. He’s cute when he’s sheepish. And for a guy who radiates confidence and surety, it’s fascinating to watch him squirm.

“Just okay?” I press.

“There’re a few kinks I’m trying to figure out.”

“Like what?”

“So, you’re allowed to be nosy when we’re talking about me?” he challenges.

“You and music,” I clarify, a shameless grin plastered across my face.

And for some reason, he humors me with an answer. “Fine. I have two versions of the song in my head, but they’re from two different perspectives. It feels weird to have them both sung by Fen on the track. Plus, it’s impossible at a live show. And the live shows are where we make our money, which means I’m trying to figure out a workaround.”

Fen. The lead singer and guitarist. Also known as Fender, who happens to be Gibson’s half-brother, though I’m not sure if that’s common knowledge. I definitely didn’t know about it until Gibson brought it up the other night at his house. Still, it feels surreal to have him talking to me about anything, let alone music, and I don’t want to ruin it by saying something I shouldn’t.

“Have you considered singing it with him?” I offer, carefully.

He laughs and shakes his head. “Wouldn’t work. And before you tell me that I belong on the stage, I’ve heard it a hundred times, and that’s not why it wouldn’t work. The melody only works if it’s higher. And the lyrics I came up with are from a woman’s perspective,” he adds. “If we were bigger, I’d probably find someone to collaborate with, but most people don’t want to work with an up-and-coming band. They want to work with an established one.”

“Hmm,” I hum, crossing my arms while biting my tongue. We’re in dangerous territory right now. Not because I’m touchy about talking about it, but because he is. I already feel like I have to walk on eggshells enough around him. No need to poke the bear. Not when he’s my ride home.

His knuckles tighten around the steering wheel, though he doesn’t look at me as he orders, “Spit it out, Dove.”

“You sure? It’s about music, and––”

“Tell me.”

“Fine,” I growl under my breath. “I’m simply curious if you understand how up-and-coming Broken Vows really is. Have you even looked at your account on Spotify or anything? You have hundreds of thousands of listens. I mean, have you ever looked around when the band is playing at SeaBird? You guys are doing really well.”

“What’s your point?”

“My point is that you might be surprised at who you could collaborate with if you put some feelers out. Just a thought.”

Again, he glances over at me before pulling into the apartment complex. “Which building are you in?”

“It’s coming up in a second. Keep going straight.”

“Okay.” As he follows my order down the narrow, winding parking lot littered with old buildings, he offers, “Why don’t you go grab your spare keys? I can drive you back to SeaBird tonight so you can pick up your car.”

My eyes widen in surprise before I wave him off. “Oh, you don’t have to do that. I’ll figure it out tomorrow.” I point to the building on the right. “And it’s this one.”

His forehead wrinkles as he parks near the sidewalk, staring at the building like it’s haunted.

“Is something wrong?” I ask.

“What’s your sister’s name again?”

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