She bounces down on the foot of the bed. “Just do it, Shy Boy.” She snaps her fingers impatiently. “Stop procrastinating.”
She’s still wearing her bikini, and the sight of her skin and curves is a nice distraction from the fact that I’m about to sing in front of someone for the very first time.
“All right, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” I lean back against the headboard and think of which song to play. My instinct tells me to go with a cover song, but then I figure, if I’m doing this, I might as well go all the way and sing one of my own songs.
As I open my mouth, I have no idea which song is going to come out.
“Stuck in the dust
Of a soul that was crushed,
I silently bleed in the stillness.
Aching inside, most days I feel like I’m losing my mind.
I’m dying inside.
And no one can help me.”
I play a few more chords as I sing the chorus.
“Stuck in a sea of pain,
I thought nothing would ever change,
That my life would always be this way.”
My fingers strum the strings.
“You blindsided me out of nowhere,
Right when I was about to surrender to the darkness,
Swallow it down with a handful of pills and sink to the bottom of the water.
Take away the pain so I can’t feel it anymore.
So close to the edge,
You offered me your hand and dragged me to the shore.”
I stop playing, even though the song isn’t finished, because Lyric is crying. Hot tears spill down her cheeks as she hugs her knees to her chest.
“Fuck, I’m sorry.” I set my guitar aside and scoot down to the bottom of the bed beside her. “I don’t know why I picked that song. I should have sung something different. Something happier.”
“Is it true?” More tears stream from her eyes and down her cheeks. “Did you really think about taking your own life?”
I want to lie to her, but she deserves better.
“I used to, but I haven’t thought about it since . . . well, since you and I became friends.”
“Oh, Ayden, I never knew it was that bad for you.” She slides her legs to the side of the bed and throws her arms around me.
“It’s not that bad anymore.” I breathe in the scent of her as I wrap my arms around her. “I promise.”
I close my eyes and breathe in the truth. Yes, there’s a ton of stuff going on in my life that is bad, but the darkness that used to grasp me by the ankles and wrists has lightened. The pain isn’t so heavy, the scars easier to bear. But, if I’d never met Lyric and the Gregorys, I’m not sure I would have ever made it here to this moment.
“Your voice is beautiful, by the way,” she whispers. “Even better than I thought it was going to be, so now you have no more excuses not to sing with me.”
I want to argue with her, tell her she’s wrong. My voice isn’t beautiful. I can’t sing with her. Instead, I decide to nod and enjoy the moment I almost didn’t have.
Chapter 13
Ayden
The week is fairly uneventful, maybe even a little on the normal side. By Friday, I no longer have a detective tailing my every move. I make sure to do everything I’m supposed to and don’t wander off. My life consists of school, band practice, therapy, family time, and Lyric.
Lyric, Lyric, Lyric. I spend all my free time with her, yet it still never feels like enough. I don’t know what’s happening to me exactly, but something is definitely changing.
“Knock. Knock. Knock.” Lyric raps her hand on the doorframe as she strolls into my bedroom with her sketchbook tucked under her arm. She’s wearing a short purple dress, her leather jacket, and black platforms. Her hair is wild around her face, and her lips are stained pink and look absurdly tempting. “Happy tattoo day, Shy Boy.”
I prop my guitar against the wall, swing my legs over the edge, and stand to my feet. “Did you finish up the sketch?”
She bobs her head up and down enthusiastically. “I did. You want to see it?”
“Of course.” I reach to take the sketchbook, but she dodges out of my reach.
A slow, conniving grin spreads across her face. “It’ll cost you.”
My arm falls to my side, and my lips twitch with amusement. “What’s the price?”
She taps a finger against her lips. “Let me think about this. Something pretty awesome, of course, since this is a freaking amazing sketch. Not money. Not anything materialistic. How about a cookie . . . ? No, that doesn’t seem very awesome. I could always make you do a striptease.”
“Lyric”—laughter bursts from my lips—“just tell me what you want.”
“Oh, fine. Take all the fun out of this.” She fakes a pout, but her smile almost instantly lights up her face again. “It’ll cost you a kiss.”
“That’s it?”
“What can I say? Your kisses are pretty valuable.”
Insert awkwardness on my part. I’ve never been good with compliments.
“I don’t think my kisses are that valuable, but if that’s what you want, then I’ll give it to you.” I step forward, slide my hand around her back, and reel her in for a kiss.
The kiss is quick, but leaves me breathless. When I start to move away, Lyric’s arm snakes around my back, and she pushes me right back against her.
“A little bit longer, please,” she begs, arching her chest toward me.
I easily give her what she asks and slip my tongue inside her mouth, kissing her the way she deserves. The kiss goes on for seconds, minutes, hours . . . so long I lose track of time.
Out of breath, I finally have to pull away, giving her bottom lip a gentle nip. She shudders in my arms, and I nearly stop breathing.
God, how can I be alive when my heart is beating so quickly?
“Okay, that definitely earned you the reward of seeing this.” Her voice is gravelly. She clears her throat before opening the sketchbook and hands it to me. “So, what do you think?”
Lines trace the pages and form shapes and swirls, dark and bright shades and vivid colors, patterns that all surround a fiery gold and red bird with its wings spread wide.
God, this must have taken her forever.
“It’s a phoenix,” she explains, “which is supposed to mean rebirth and strength. I thought it was pretty fitting.”