“Let’s get back to it,” Tanner says, putting his phone down.
I don’t move. I don’t want to lose this beat. We’ve been practicing so much lately that my fingers want to fall off. Not only that, I’ve been writing a lot more in the last few weeks. I promised the guys at least three new songs before we pack up for the summer.
Producing another pencil from my pocket, I get back to work.
My heart was hollow before you
Now it beats just to follow you
I’ll give you the sword, I won’t even flinch
I’ll let you cut me topieces, slice me open inch by inch
All you have to do is ask
You can rip me apart, make your mess
You’ve got me in your hands
But please don’t ruin my plans
I’ll make you mine, take your time
I’ll wait
Drawn to you, make no mistake
I’ll give you everything you’re willing to take
Drawn to you like we’re written in fate
Travis strolls back over and leans down to read. He hums. “She really is your muse.”
Olivia has definitely inspired me. When she asked if I’d write a song for her, I didn’t respond. Mostly ’cause I’d already been writing shit about her, for longer than she knows.
I ignore him and keep writing. Eventually, he stalks away to mess with Liam. He seems to be coming out of whatever funk he’s been in, thank fuck. If I have to spend four months listening to him and Tanner go at it, I’m going to strangle them with my guitar strings. Notmyguitar but someone’s.
“Guys,” Tanner sighs because no one listened to his first demand. “Can we play?”
“Don’t expect us to drop everything we’re doing because you’re off the phone now,” Travis says, taking another hit from the joint before stubbing it out and dropping the roach onto my lap. I flick it and it flies across the room, zooming right past him. His footsteps halt, and he whips his head around. “What the fuck?”
Ismirk, throwing up my middle finger.
“That was a perfectly good roach!” He rushes over, swipes it off the floor, blows it off, and pockets it.
I shake my head in disbelief at him.
“Let’s fucking play,” Tanner barks.
We shuffle over to the stage, pick up our instruments, and get back to practicing.
37
OLIVIA
This sucks.
This trip was a bust. I came back to my parents with high hopes, probably too high. I had a plan—a solid argument—that I thought would force them to hear me out. But the second I mentioned not coming home after graduation and exploring other interests, my mother shut herself in her room for days. It was as if the sight of me was too much to bear.
