I give him a mocking look. I love harassing him about Lucy the surfboard.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m stupid. Whatever.” He’s waving his hands in front of him like he’s heard it a million times. Which he has. “What I did find here are more beach musicians.”
“So you brought me to get my first joint. That’s so sweet.” I know that’s not why we’re here, but it actually feels like the lesser of two evils at this point.
“You’re not as cute as you think you are.” He grabs my hand and starts to lead me toward the wooden stairs that stretch up into the dunes. “We’re here to play.”
“In front of people?” I plant my feet on the concrete, bringing us to a stop.
“Forpeople. Baby steps.”
Before I can protest, Cam’s face is in front of mine and he’s tugging on the ends of the long black wig I’m wearing.I’m fully embracing Dakota Gray.
“No one knows you here. We’ll start out playing by ourselves, okay?” He’s giving me these pleading puppy dog eyes he’s so good at. “I really want to play with you. Will you let me play with you?” He’s smirking and I can’t stop the smile that’s creeping onto my face as he teases me.
“You can play with me,” I tease.
We make our way up the steep steps and take a seat on one of the wooden observation decks. We’re two levels up from where a group of dirty-looking guys—and maybe a girl?—are gathered with bongos and guitars. I can still hear the soft beat of their music, but we’re above them now and I can’t see them.They can’t see me.
Cam takes his guitar out first, and starts strumming a rhythm he’s been working on for weeks, playing in his living room while I sit on the couch doing homework or watching movies. He hums along as I do the same. My guitar is sitting on my lap, but I can’t bring myself to join him yet. I’ve known this song almost as long as he has. As soon as he had started playing it, I wenthome and learned it on my own. I’ve even added to it, and changed it.
“I know you have lyrics in your head,” he says over the music. “I can practically see them on your lips. They want out.” I get the puppy dog eyes again. “Theyneedout, Vee.” He gives me a huge smile, and I start to lose my resolve. I don’t know if he even realizes it, but Cam doesn’t smile much. Not like Logan or Anders, who walk around with perpetual grins on their faces. Cam makes you work for it. Each smile he gives me is like a carefully wrapped present. And he’s right; there are absolutely lyrics trapped in me. But inmymind, the song he’s singing is different.
I take a deep breath and steel myself. “In my mind it’s actually a duet,” I say. “A two-part call-and-response.” Cam is looking at me with so much hope and excitement that I forget I’m supposed to be scared. I forget about that hidden fear, and that I don’t play in front of anyone. “Like this.” I pick the first few notes. “You keep playing, and I’ll add.”
Cam plays and I add a new rhythm line, and by the time the sun has fully set, Cam has started to add words and I’m beginning to feel alive. I didn’t even know I wasn’t, until this moment, when everything inside me began to open up, blossoming into something so much bigger. My heart starts to pound in rhythm to this song.Ourfirst song.
There’s this girl, yeah this girl,
who makes the world seem
brighter than it’s ever been.
There’s her smile and her eyes
and I just wanna make her mine—
The lyrics Cam is singing aren’t the ones in my head. They’re better. I add my own response that mirrors his, and we trade verses back and forth, telling each other all the things we haven’tsaid. With the kind of honesty only lyrics can offer. And it’s not Dakota telling Parker how she feels; it’s Vee telling Cam. When it’s just the two of us and our guitars, there’s no room for anyone else.
When we play the final notes we’re staring at each other and it suddenly feels too quiet. I can hear the blades of dune grass scratching against each other, and our heavy breathing. The soft rush of the water as it rages toward the shore. I think I hear Cam blink. And then a strange rhythmic sound that doesn’t fit. I’m still staring at him. I wonder if this is what falling in love sounds like. Like butterfly wings in my ears and trumpets in my stomach and like the pound of bass in my chest. Until I realize it’s the sound of applause. I lean over the railing and the group on the deck below us is clapping and cheering. One of them is shaking a tambourine overhead. Cam gives a dramatic bow and I follow. And I know; this isexactlywhat falling in love sounds like.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
NOW
CAM
Sometimes I forget that the whole reason I’m on tour is to win a competition. To walk away with a recording deal and make an actual living as a musician. The first two shows had felt like every other gig we’ve played in the last two months. We went onstage, did our thing, and the crowds loved it. By the second show, a few of the girls in the crowd were wearing the purple Future X shirts. But now, for show number three—the first live show—I can tell that something has changed backstage. The air is crackling with a certain amount of aggression. Everyone’s on edge. The bands are all focused on the fact that two will be leaving soon. After nothing more than a tallying of public opinion, dreams will be ended. The drunken horseplay that had been filling the back rooms of the previous shows is now just drunken nerves.
As we exit the stage from our performance, I see Pax and Sid—our two bus mates from Caustic Underground—sitting on a ratty couch in one of the club’s two back rooms. Two guys from The Phillips sit in metal folding chairs across from them. Between them is a large wooden trunk being used as a table, andit’s covered with a colorful assortment of guitar picks. The perimeter is lined with glasses and bottles.
I tap the lead singer of The Phillips on the shoulder. “You’re in the pit, man. Jenn wants you up front.” He throws back the shot in his hand before sauntering toward the stage, his drummer following behind.
“What’s this?” I say, taking a seat in one of the folding chairs while Reese grabs the other.
Pax waves a long arm over the table like a magician. “Sit down and find out.”
“I’m in,” Reese says, rubbing his hands together. “Whatever it is, I’m in. What are the rules?”
