Page 38 of Hard Rock Muse
With a huff, I went over to the edge of the building, sitting down and letting my legs dangle over. Julian sat down next to me.
“This is as good a place to think as any,” he said.
The both of us sat side by side for several long, silent minutes. Those minutes stretched out, feeling like hours.
What was I feeling?
I was feeling a lot of things.
Annoyed and tired, sure.
Cold, yes. Julian had been right when he said it was chilly up here.
But deeper down, there was more.
Jealousy.
Bitterness.
Regret.
Anguish.
There was a throbbing hurt in the center of my very chest, spreading outwards through my veins into every limb, every finger and toe.
I looked out at the city, blinking at the harsh lights.
“You look pensive,” Julian said quietly.
“I’m thinking,” I said.
“I know. Whenever you’re concentrating really hard, you get this cute little line in your forehead. It’s the same as when you’re stuck on a tricky bit of music.”
I turned to look at him. He was looking back at me, head cocked, as if examining me.
“Are feeling all inspired right now?” he asked. “Composing your next masterpiece in your head?”
“I’m saving all my inspiration for your song,” I said.
“Our song,” he corrected. “And we need all the inspiration we can get.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “It’s going to be amazing. It’s going to be heartfelt. Powerful. Meaningful. Authentic. We’re going to speak directly to people’s souls. ” I clutched the notebook in my hand, holding it tight. “We’re going to change lives with this song.”
Julian went silent. I relaxed my grip on the notebook and looked down at my feet dangling over the edge, wondering if I’d been too fervent, too overzealous. I hadn’t realized until that moment how much I cared. I’d thought it was just a job. But being up there on the roof alone with Julian made me realize…
No matter how I felt about Julian, I wanted this song to succeed.
I wanted the same thing I’d always wanted whenever we wrote songs together.
I wanted us to touch people’s hearts.
“Let me see that pen,” Julian said.
He took it from my outstretched hand and put it to the paper. He paused, as if thinking. He cast one more look at me, then bowed his head and scribbled on the paper. He folded it up into a small square and handed me back the pen.
“Your turn,” he said.
I thought for long moments. Thought about mine and Julian’s past. Our present. Our future.
