I finally fixed it, finally fixed it
And Liam says, “You’re right, that does sound totally different.”
“Yeah, that one has a pre-chorus.”
He smacks his forehead. “Of course, the pre-chorus.” I laugh. With his beer, he nudges my shoulder, smiling softly. “What’s next?”
I play him one more song, another variation of my breakup angst. Liam thoughtfully comments again, and I think my heart might be on Saturn.
Then he says, “That lyric, about your first date being on Halloween.”
“What about it?”
“Is it true?” he asks softly. “Or artistic license?”
“No, that was true,” I say. “We watched a movie at his place and handed out candy. Why?”
He frowns, looks at the ceiling. “I was under the impression you got together right when you moved to Knoxville.”
“No,” I say. “He didn’t start at Emilia until a month after I did.”
Liam nods, says nothing. I want to stop thinking about Evan, singing about him, and before I think twice, I say, “There’s one more. On the piano.”
“What’s it called?” he asks.
I shift the guitar off my lap and grab my beer can. “Um, it’s called ‘The Pitcher.’”
My throat is closing. Obviously, my voice box is rebelling, and I don’t blame it.
Liam stares, and stares, and stares. “Did you write a song about me, Paige?” His voice is low, throaty.
“No. About the other pitcher I know.”
He doesn’t laugh. Liam gets up, takes purposeful strides toward my bedroom.
Toward. My. Bedroom.
I follow him, scrambling, and take a massive chug of my beer. When I enter the room, Liam is pulling the chair back from my desk. He looks at me, then dips his chin at the chair.
I sit, turning on the keyboard. Liam walks away, giving me space.
My fingers flutter over the keys, shaking. I can’t see him, but Iknowhis eyes are pinned to my back.
I actually don’t think I can do this, not tonight. I stand and turn back, an apology on the tip of my tongue for teasing him with this and then refusing to share the song.
“That’s okay,” he says first, his eyes patient. “I can wait.”
All of a sudden I’m panting. My chest feels like it’s been stuffed with a live jackrabbit.
“Another time,” I promise him.
Liam nods. “I should go. I actuallyamsupposed to ice a few body parts.”
I grin, and so does he. “Okay.”
He hasn’t tried to kiss me, despite him verbalizing his desire to and me verbalizing my permission, and if I know Liam, it’s because he’s trying to set me at ease, disprove Maisy’s claim that as soon as I give in, he’ll give up.
We walk back to the living room. Liam scoops up his bag and I follow him out to the hallway. “I’ll see you soon,” he promises.
