25
The next morning, I woke up to bright sunlight hitting my eyelids. I threw my arm over my eyes to shield them, but the damage was done. With a grumble I rubbed at my face and sat up in bed.
Liam was sound asleep next to me, sheets and blankets tossed to the side. I let myself thoroughly enjoy the view of his broad back and naked ass before stretching and climbing out of bed.
I made my way downstairs to get some coffee. Once I had a large mug, I wandered around the house as I sipped at the life-saving liquid. Liam had never actually given me the tour.
It was a mostly normal house, with a living room, dining room and fully furnished basement den. The thing that struck me most were the guitars in almost every room. Not all of them were in stands. Some were just lying around, as if they'd been haphazardly set down and forgotten.
One acoustic guitar in particular called to me with its shiny-smooth dark wood finish. I set my mug down, took my place on a sofa in the den and pulled the guitar into my lap.
It felt like I hadn't written a new song in ages. I'd been so focused on recording old songs for our album and getting ready for the tour.
But now I felt a trickling of music notes and the stirrings of lyrics begging to be let out.
I began strumming and humming, not fully aware of what I was doing, just letting my subconscious take over.
"Was the sex that inspiring?"
I jumped, guitar strings screeching.
"Sorry," Liam said as he finished coming down the stairs and took a seat beside me. "I didn't mean to scare you."
"You walk like a cat," I accused.
He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and kissed the side of my head. "I didn't realize you were so absorbed in the music. Do you usually get that way when you compose?"
"Sometimes. Depends on my mood, depends on the type of music."
"And what type of music are you writing now?"
"I'm not sure," I said. "It's sort of uplifting, but melancholy at the same time. I don't know. I can never really tell how my songs are going to come out until they're done. It's like my brain shuts off and my instincts take over."
"Makes sense," he said. "They say music comes from the heart, from the soul. Maybe we can write a song together sometime."
My chest twinged. Harper was the only one I'd ever written songs with. Ever since he'd died, I'd composed all my songs by myself. It had been too painful to do otherwise, even with Gael. Writing was too personal, too private, to do it with just anyone. I had to let down my barriers, had to open up and let all my thoughts and feelings rise to the surface. Harper had been the only one I'd ever felt comfortable enough to do that with.
"What do you think?" Liam asked expectantly.
"I don't know," I said, hesitating. "Writing is kind of a solitary thing for me."
"You don't co-write songs?"
"I used to." I looked down at the guitar in my lap. "It's been a while."
"Do you maybe want to try again?" Liam asked.
The thought of trying to write a song with Liam, with anyone really, sent a spike of panic shooting through me.
"I don't—" I swallowed hard. "I don't think so. Not yet." I set the guitar down and stood up in a hurry. "What are your plans for the day?" I asked. "If you're free I have an idea for our second date."
Liam studied me, disappointment almost palpable. He nodded once, as if to himself. "My day's open."
"There's this fun fair going on at that youth center I told you about. A fundraiser. It's mostly for kids and families, but after our science center date, I figure you won't have a problem with that." I flashed him a wavering smile, hoping he wouldn't press me.
"Sounds fun." He got up from the sofa, too. "When should we head over?"
I was glad he wasn't going to press me on the issue.
