Page 15 of The Comeback

I’mitchingtogetout of class on Wednesday. Dax and I finally got a practice room booked and I’m dying to start adding a melody to the lyrics I’ve been toying with. I’ve written lots of songs before, but this one has to be special. It has to blow the judges away. No pressure, right?

The song has been slowly forming in my head and I’ve scribbled down ideas and lines all week. Dax is probably ready to kill me with the number of times I’ve texted him with a thought, but he’s replied to every single one, adding his own input. He’s sent a few ideas back as well, and I know we have something here.

The song is a love story. It starts sweet, building to a story of loss, then betrayal. It’s sad, but optimistic. An apology, of sorts. Perfect for our duet.

Dax is already there when I rush into the practice room, dumping my backpack, tote bag, and assorted tumblers in the corner. Grey fiberglass acoustic panels line the small room and matching gray carpet covers the floor. Dax is sitting behind a microphone, picking away at his guitar. I settle in behind the keyboard, giving the keys a loving stroke before I pull my notebook out of my bag.

“Sorry I’m late. Garrity doesn’t seem to understand the concept of time.” My last prof of the day was for a history of jazz class, and he seems to think everyone wants to spend all day every day talking about jazz fusion.

“Oh god, Garrity. Yeah, he’s a lot. Like, I appreciate his enthusiasm for his subject, but chill out, man.” He continues to experiment with some chords while he talks, and my body unconsciously sways to the beat.

The words start to flow as I weave my lyrics into his melody.

“This one’s a little more angsty than your usual songs. Was Connor the inspiration?” He gives me a curious look.

I snort. “Ugh no. Like I’d ever give that man child the satisfaction of inspiring music.” His words make me think a little deeper about the lyrics I wrote, but I push the thought away and let my fingers idly dance over the keys. When I think about the song, it’s a pair of brown eyes flecked with gold that come to mind, but that can’t be right.

“Anyone out there giving you inspiration at the moment?” I’m interested in what’s going on with my friend, not just deflecting his interest in my love life or lack thereof.

When I glance up after a weighty pause, Dax’s eyes are fixed on me. He’s studying me as if he wants to imprint my image into his mind, and I’m suddenly scared of what’s going to come out when he opens his mouth.

“What about this?” I drop my lids closed again and lose myself in the melody that’s finally coming together after dancing around the edges of my mind for the last few days.

I open my eyes again when his deep voice joins along with mine until we’re singing back and forth in a playful tug of war, voices melting together in an easy harmony.

“Yes!” He jumps up and throws a fist in the air. I agree. This is it. We’ve got it. This is the song that could win the competition. It’s going to need more tweaks and lots of practice, but this could be it for us. There are excited butterflies at war with the wave of nausea at the thought of performing it in front of a packed crowd at the competition.

I shove my notebooks and pens back into my bag, jumping up.

“Wait. Where are you going?” Dax half rises in his seat, his brow twisted in confusion.

“I’ve gotta get back to…” I trail off with a mutter.

“What? We’ve still got five minutes here.”

“I’ll see you later, Dax.” I call over my shoulder as I push out the soundproof door.

I rush through the building and make it out the front doors before I fall heavily against the brick wall, clutching my bag to my chest. How am I going to do this? I’m going to let down one of my best friends and make a complete fool of myself. My breathing is coming in quick gasps, and I know I need to pull myself back. I focus on the scratchy brick against my back. The solid feeling of it propping me up and I take deep, even breaths until I’m calm enough to get myself home. I pick up my phone, and type out a text, pausing for a moment before I hit send.

Chapter 12

Sebastian

Fab:Whencanwestart?

The ding of a text notification pulls me away from the dry as hell economics textbook. Start what? This is the first time she’s texted me since we exchanged numbers a few days ago. And yes, I put her old nickname as my contact. She asked me not to call her that, and I’m not. In person. But it’s hard for me to think of her by any other name.

Does she mean our deal? Does she want help? Fuck yeah. Gives me a chance to see her again. I have to check myself. Have I been anxiously waiting to see her? Somehow, I don’t think this is exactly the type of distraction Coach had in mind.

Me: How about 2nite?

Fab: Sure. When and where?

Me: I’ll pick u up. Does 7 work?

My knee bounces as the dots come and go. I hope she doesn’t overthink herself out of this. I’ve got the perfect idea to get her started. It’ll be good for both of us.

Fab: Fine

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