Page 25 of Yearn

“Thanks for coming out. I’m a songwriter at heart, and I’d love to play a few of my newest for you.”

A scattering of applause echoed in the room. I glimpsed a few girls at the bar who immediately perked up, taking him in with hungry interest. Great, more groupies. He seemed to cultivate them everywhere he went. At least, Gabriella wasn’t here. Maybe she didn’t even know about it, which would mean they weren’t hooking up like she hinted at. I hoped that was the case.

He strummed the guitar like a tender lover, and began to sing. My drink froze mid-air as I listened, beginning to shake.

I’d heard this song before.

Dear God, it was about me.

Chapter Eleven

Landon

Listen to Honest

by Song House & Kyndal Inskeep

The rich texture in his voice caressed my ears, and the room seemed to still, as if recognizing they were hearing something special. I fell into the song about waking up in the middle of the night with a hunger for more, yet not knowing what you wanted or how to get it. The lyrics were both poetic and real, tangled up with the bittersweet ache of the unknown. At heart, it was a song about finding yourself. The ragged edge questioning who you are throbbed in his words, reminding me of Matchbox Twenty 3am, yet even more haunting as it was stripped of the background band.

And it had come directly from a conversation I’d had with Adam months ago.

We’d been partying hard and I’d desperately needed some air. I stumbled outside, feeling light and a bit loopy, gulpingin the blustery wind of March. Adam’s voice stopped me cold. “Didn’t think you were a smoker, princess.”

I wrinkled my nose and turned. One boot rested on the ledge of the window. Hair loose around his shoulders, clad in a leather jacket and black jeans, he practically exuded a dark, sensual cloud. “Nah, I’m here for the air, which you’re screwing up. Like you do everything else.”

Instead of insulting me back, he laughed, taking another drag. “Do you ever stop poking and get real?”

I gasped. “I’m the one who’s real! You’re stuck in the same role of broody, pissed-off creative.”

“I’m not pissed-off. I just don’t have much patience for bullshit.”

“I don’t bullshit.”

He arched a brow. “Now, you’re just a liar. You play a role bigger than me. The happy, perfect leader of the group. The supportive, trusted friend. The loyal yet demanding girlfriend. I’ve known you for almost a year and still feel like you’re a stranger. You’re a chameleon.”

“This is why I don’t talk to you.” Frustration from his challenge sparked. “You never take the time to get to know me, Adam. Don’t get all high and mighty thinking you’re any better.”

“You’re right.” I jerked in surprise. “Let’s fix this right now.”

I watched his as he ground his butt on the concrete and faced me.

“Tell me on thing that scares you.”

Uneasiness took root. I tried to take a step back mentally. “Spiders. What about you?”

He shook his head, a smug smile on his full lips. “Knew it. You’re chicken shit. Forget it.”

He walked past me but I grabbed his arm. My fingers clutched around leather and he tilted his head to look at me. Thescent of smoke, musk and whisky hit me. “Why don’t you tell me one?”

I thought he’d keep walking but he focused on my face, probing my gaze, as if looking for something I didn’t understand. “I worry I’ll die without making any type of a difference. The idea I exist in an empty void that will never make sense; that I’ll never do anything with my music to change anyone; it makes me fucking terrified. You?”

The raw truth stung like I’d stepped on an angry bee hive. He was probably drunk and wouldn’t remember the conversation tomorrow. We’d hardly spent any time alone together, choosing to always be in a group or avoid one other. But right now, confession was practically a dare to not only meet him, but beat him at his own game.

Or I could walk and leave him with a tad of vulnerability. I’d own the high ground and have a slight edge with his confession.

I was tempted. But the words escaped my lips before I could reign them in. “I wake up in the middle of the night on a regular basis. It’s like I’m having a panic attack—my heart is pounding and my mind gets jacked up and all I can think over and over is that I’ll never be truly happy, because there’s this empty place inside of me no one else knows about. It’s an unending void that needs filling but I don’t know how to do it.” My voice slowly broke. “I keep trying but nothing works. Maybe nothing ever will and I’ll die never knowing what I needed.”

My cheeks grew red under his hot stare. My fingers still gripped his arm, and he leaned in, so I saw the stubble on his jaw, and the lush curve of his lower lip and the intense heat burning in his dark eyes.

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