Page 44 of Shattered Chords

“So the tabloids are where we get an education now?”

She motioned at a lonely slice of watermelon on my plate. “Aren’t you going to eat anything?”

“You’re avoiding my question,” I countered.

“No, I just don’t want you to get dizzy after carrying around all that plastic furniture.” She grinned, slowly walking toward the jars with lemonade.

“Come on,” I whispered into her ear. “Go out with me.”

She came to a stop in front of the drink station and set her food on the table as if she needed to free her hands to give me an answer.

I waited, my heart rate speeding up. There were noises everywhere, swirling in the hot air around us. The faraway hum of an engine that carried over from the front of the shop, the low chatter of people seated in the park, the excited screams of kids running around the lawn, the muffled crash of plastic cups, and the distant crackle of water bottles. It was a jumble of sounds, many so unfamiliar.

“You’re right,” Camille finally said, her voice falling to a soft whisper. “I don’t know you.” She grabbed a cup and filled it with lemonade. “But I know your kind.”

“And what is my kind?” I followed her lead and poured myself a drink too.

She turned to face me, holding on to her plate. “You’re a drive-by. You do what you want. You disappear. You leave tons of damage behind. And you never come back to clean up your mess.”

Her words smacked me like a sucker punch. I didn’t know what exactly it was about this woman that made me want to keep going, keep asking until she broke. Resistance maybe? Resistance I’d never had to deal with before.

“I thought we had something,” I murmured, taking a shy step forward to erase the distance between us.

A subtle, barely there smile of acknowledgment tugged at Camille’s lips. She felt it too. We definitely hadsomething. It was in the sweltering air between us, in the playful words exchanged, and in the long stares we’d shared on more than one occasion.

She’d just chosen to pretend she wasn’t as intrigued as I was.

“You should try the chicken.” There was a waver in her voice. “Renn made it.”

I blanked. My brain was like a lightbulb that popped right in the middle of a surgery, sending everyone and everything into the dark. It only lasted a moment, but by the time my mind got it together, Camille was gone.

“So how did you two meet?” a voice asked from behind me.

I turned to see who it was. The puppy owner in pink capris stared up at me from beneath the visor of her flower-studded hat.

My panic was replaced with recognition that slowly became disappointment.

“Funny story.” I gave Renn my red-carpet smile. “We met at the guitar shop.”

“Oh, really? How interesting.” The woman began to tidy up the table. “Ally says you’re a musician.”

“That’s right. And you’re the person we have to thank for the delicious lunch.” I motioned at a sad-looking tray of what looked like a salad.

Renn leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, “The potatoes are from Whole Foods. Precooked.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” I laughed quietly.

“Oh, you’re a gentleman.” Her penciled brows quirked.

“Doing my best.”

“Well, I like you way more than the previous tutor.” Renn shoved her index finger into my chest.

“I think you might be confusing me with someone?”

“Aren’t you Ally’s new guitar teacher?”

I paused, allowing the information to settle in. “What happened to the previous one?”

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