Page 46 of Spark

“Why did you say I’m Cooper’s nemesis?” I ask midway through her song.

“I already told you: Cooper’s always been crazy-jealous of you.”

“Yeah, but nemesis seems like a more intense word than someone you’re merelyjealousof.”

Ruby snorts. “Okay, well, Cooper was jealous of you, even before I started dating him. But once we started dating, his jealousy became more like an obsession. He was convinced I wanted to break up with him and get with you.”

My breathing hitches. Lyrics flood me.Why do you want to fuck your brother?Why is he starring in your sex dreams? You said his name twice.

“W-why would Cooper think that?” Fuck it. I can still taste Ruby on my lips and tongue. Like a drug, the sensation is making me reckless, apparently.

“Because he’s a simpleton who can’t fathom a woman being close friends with a hot guy.” She exhales. “Come on, birthday boy. Open the door. I need another drink.”

“But I mean, do you know of any objective reason, other than Cooper’s own insecurities, why he’d think that way?”

Ruby grunts. “Who knows what goes on inside the mind ofan insecure, jealous ex-boyfriend? Your guess is as good as mine.”

My mind hurtles back to Ruby’s comment about Cooper airing their dirty laundry a couple days ago. Is there something she’s holding back?

“Open the door already,” Ruby says with a pinch to my neck.

I let Ruby slide off my back, fish my key out of my pocket, and unlock the door; and the minute Ruby enters my room, she takes a running, flying leap onto my bed, like she’s belly flopping into a summer lake.

I laugh at her silliness. At first. But all it takes is one glimpse of her inner thigh as her skirt rides up, as she lands and bounces, and I’m dangerously close to popping a boner. What’s wrong with me? One kiss, and I’m suddenly incapable of being around her?

I stride to the minibar, telling myself to get ahold of myself. “It’s an embarrassment of riches in here,” I report, after opening the fridge. At Ruby’s request, I list off every beverage option in front of me, expecting her to cut me off at some point with her selection. But she doesn’t make a peep. Did she pass out while I was droning on?

I turn around to face her and discover Ruby’s slowly flipping the pages of my lyrics notebook, which is laid out before her on the bed.

For a split second, the sight doesn’t concern me. During countless writing sessions, Ruby’s perused the pages of my journal, and vice versa. But, suddenly, just as she stops on a page and her eyes go wide, a thought pings my brain.

Spark.

Shit.

Did I tear those two pages out in New York like I was intending to do? Or did I get distracted? In a flash,I hurl myself across the small room and snatch the journal off the bed, causing Ruby to yelp in surprise.

“Hey!” she shouts. “Give it back. I just started reading something juicy.” When I shake my head, Ruby waggles her eyebrows and says, “Come on. I just saw a two-pager called ‘Spank,’ you naughty boy, and I’m dying to know what that’s all about.”

12

RUBY

When I land on Kendrick’s bed following my flying leap through the air, something hard bonks my belly. With a frown, I reach underneath me and discover the assailant is Kendrick’s lyrics notebook. I’ve read it countless times, but not recently. Not since our last songwriting session as a band, before the tour started. Feeling excited to see what he’s added to it, I start flipping pages toward the back of the book.

“It’s an embarrassment of riches in here,” Kendrick says, peering into the minifridge.

“What are my options?” I ask, as I flip another page. Kendrick isn’t normally a big contributor of lyrics in our band. Kai, Savage, and I write those, while Kendrick and Titus contribute riffs and musical ideas. But still, on occasion, Kendrick supplies some little snippet of a lyric or the seedling of an idea that knocks everyone’s socks off. Or at least, inspires someone else to run with it.

As Kendrick is still listing my beverage options, I flip a new page and land on something that instantly makes me tune out his voice: a two-page set of lyrics, written in urgent, messyhandwriting. I’ve never seen Kendrick write this many lyrics all at once, and I’m genuinely shocked.

My eyes drift to the top of the left-hand page—to the title. Kendrick’s handwriting is always hard to decipher for me. But here, it’s even harder than usual, which suggests these words must have poured out of his brain in a torrent his hand could barely keep up with.

“Skank.” That appears to be the title at the top of the page. But then again, I’ve never heard Kendrick use that word in my life. No, wait. “Spank.” Yeah, I think that’s it. Is spank a word Kendrick uses often? No, but I’ve definitely heard him calling masturbation “spanking the monkey,” so this song title makes a lot more sense.

I lower my eyes to the first line of Kendrick’s lyrics, eager to begin reading; but unfortunately, the rushed, jagged script is as hard to decipher as the title. Slowly, however, I’m able to make out the beginning line:

Lying awake, my body staging a coup

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