“Well, not cousin, but we’re really close, yeah.” I grin at his shirt. “How’s the fire academy?”
He grimaces. “Ugh, we had the worst day. They made us run a hose advance, like, a million times.”
“What’s a hose advance?” I ask curiously.
Eddie groans and rubs the back of his neck. “Okay, so picture dragging an anaconda the size of a tree trunk and it’s thrashing around, full of water, while you’re crawling on your knees in fifty pounds of gear. Oh, and the anaconda hates you.”
Annaliese and I burst out laughing. “That sounds awful,” I inform him.
“You have no idea. By the end of the day, my arms were shaking so bad I couldn’t even open a water bottle. Had to get Dave to do it for me.” He glances across the bar and signals to the friends he abandoned, gesturing for them to join us. “You gotta hear about this prank Mikey pulled on our instructor today. Mikey, get over here!”
Three guys amble up to our booth, one of them instantly catching my attention. He’s not super tall, but he’s got a great body, a crooked smile, and flirtatious blue eyes. Eddie introduces him as Dave.
As he slides in next to me, he checks me out, but not in a creepy way.
I check him out too, also not in a creepy way.
Annaliese doesn’t miss the current of awareness that travels between us. Her lips curve in a smile.
“So,” she says brightly. “Shots?”
Chapter 23
WYATT
I CAN’T SLEEP. AND IRONICALLY, it’s not because of insomnia. After a shitty day that saw the return of my writer’s block and a general sense of discontent, I was genuinely pumped to go to bed tonight.
But then Blake went out with Annaliese. To a bar.
So now I’m lying in my bed counting the minutes until she comes home, because I can’t rest until I know she’s all right. Don’t get me wrong. I trust Blake. Annaliese too. It’s everyone else that I don’t trust. Especially all the drunk, horny dudes who are probably drooling over her right now.
What if she meets someone else tonight?
I choke down the groan that’s lodged in my throat. The idea of her with somebody else rips at my insides. I can still taste her. I can still feel the press of her lips again mine and the heat of her tongue. That kiss wrecked me. And it only whetted my appetite, leaving me craving another taste, wanting so much more. I hate how badly I want to open that door again.
Resting my forearm over my eyes, I release the groan, the frustrated sound echoing in the bedroom. I force myself to sit up. No more wallowing. It’s pathetic. Might as well put all these volatile emotions to good use.
I grab my songbook and flip it open to my latest draft of “Stop the World.” I’m not sold on the song title, so it’s a placeholder for now. I pull up Cole’s last message on my phone, the one with his most recent list of suggestions. I wasn’t able to write anything new today, but I can at least be productive and work on something I know is good.
My pencil moves quickly over the page as I try to work in Cole’s notes. He’s right. The second verse is better this way. Shorter, snappier.
Description
An image designed to look like a piece of lined notebook paper pinned to the page. It features handwritten text representing song lyrics. The text reads: ‘You smile at me / and I feel like I could love you forever / just for that. / Just for the way you say / "yeah?" / when you’re half listening. / When did you become what I measure time by? / Before you / After you’. A small heart is drawn at the bottom right.
Yes. I like that.
I sing the lines under my breath. Fits nicely with the melody too.
See? I’m not stuck. Blake has no idea what she’s talking about. Those accusations she lobbed my way have been bothering me all day, but she’s wrong. Nothing is keeping me stuck in my life, and I’m not avoiding other paths. I keep my relationships casual because it’s all Ican offer. I’m barely capable of calling my folks once a week. How the fuck am I supposed to devote time to a girlfriend?
I’m putting the notebook away when I hear the front door alarm disengage.
She’s back.
Relief washes over me, a weight lifted off my chest at knowing she’s home safe. But the tension returns in full force when I hear not one set of footsteps on the stairs but two.
Every muscle in my body coils like a spring. Hushed whispering fills the hallway, the unmistakable murmur of Blake’s voice.
