I extendmy hand
Our fingers touch
My voice shook at first.The words reminded me of my teenaged years. The words reminded me of too many things I'd buried deep down.
Cold and damned
You crumble to dust
I felttears sting the back of my eyes. My voice wavered.
Only two remain
In innocent eyes
By the chorusthe crowd was cheering and clapping, encouraging me. Noah had been right that these guys weren't so bad. Once I got through the sorrow of the first chorus, I was able to cling to the hopefulness of the last verse. Cling to the words I had heard Noah Hart sing to me a million times.
I'll takeyou away
Beyond the lies
The song cameto an end and I rushed off the stage, my cheeks flushed.
Noah was there to greet me. I was about to grumble and complain at him for making me sing in public, but I stopped when I saw the look on his face. It wasn't his usual bad tempered expression. Neither was he gloating, pleased with himself for forcing me to go up there.
His head was tilted and his lips parted as he scanned my face. His eyes were bright and shining as he gave me a curious look.
"What?" I asked nervously. "Why are you staring at me?"
"It's nothing," he said with a shake of his head. "Your beer's still waiting for you."
As we made our way to the bar, a handful of biker guys and punk rock types clapped me on the shoulder with nods and whistles. I couldn't help but grin. As nerve-wracking as it had been, it had also been kind of fun. I couldn't hate Noah too much for forcing me to take part in Walt's karaoke night.
We sat at the bar again. Noah handed me my half finished drink. He called Walt over for another beer. He took his own and chugged down a few gulps. I didn't know how many he'd already had, but his eyes were beginning to fog over.
Noah and I sat and drank and watched as various guys and girls went up and did their thing. Some weren't all that bad, actually. I found that I was actually enjoying myself. It was enough to help me unwind from the stress of trying to compose.
"Did you mean what you said up there?" Noah asked suddenly after a while.
"Mean what?"
"About my music helping you."
I nodded slowly. "I went through some hard times as a teenager."
"Your mom?" he guessed. "You said she was depressed."
My chest ached, like I was picking the scab off an old wound. I could practically feel the letter in my purse burning a hole through the leather.
"Yeah," I choked out. "My mom… it was tough." I left it at that. "When your debut album came out, it spoke to me. I felt like someone understood me. Understood the pain I was feeling, the stuff I was going through."
"I never really thought about my lyrics helping someone like that." Noah glanced at me. His eyes were soft, almost unfocused. "Do you still feel that way? About me? About my lyrics?"
I thought for a moment.
"The man who wrote those lyrics doesn't always feel like the man I've gotten to know. But that doesn't mean it's a bad thing. Everyone uses art to express themselves. You put something of yourself in everything you write, even if you don't think you do. I think you're sort of amazing, actually."
He was silent for a moment before averting his eyes. "I write words and I sing them. That's it. I'm not some god."
