Love Song(68)

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 I can 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.

“We have to be quiet.”

Someone else speaks now. Someone male.

“Mmmm. Can’t wait to get you naked.”

In the blink of an eye, I go from mild discomfort to capable of committing murder.

There’s a thump, as if someone bumped into the wall. Then a thud on the way past my door, followed by a quiet moan.

This asshole’s making her moan?

Over my dead body.

I stalk out of my room and burst into the corridor, rage fueling my every step.

“Let’s get these off.” Blake. Muffled and breathy.

The hall is bathed in shadows, but there’s enough light to illuminate her door, which is wide open, providing me with a perfect view of Blake.

On her knees.

She’s on her goddamn knees in front of another man.

“You’ve got the hottest mouth,” he mutters as she unzips his pants. He reaches out to nudge the door closed. “Show me how you use it.”

A red mist obscures my vision as I charge toward them. I shove the door before the guy can close it, and the resulting crash when it hits the wall has both of them glancing over in surprise.

“Oh my God, Wyatt!” Blake cries in outrage. “Go away.”

“Get up,” I bark at her.

“Go. Away.” She stays on her knees. Her features are tight with anger.

“Get. Up.”

The guy’s wary gaze flicks toward me. “Who’s this?” he asks Blake.

“Nobody. Just a family friend who’s also staying here. And now he’s leaving.” She glares at me. “Good night, Wyatt.”

“What are you doing?” I snap at her. “You’re bringing home random townie trash now?”

“Hey,” the guy objects.

I ignore him. “What the hell are you trying to prove?”

“Get out of my room,” Blake orders through gritted teeth. She finally stumbles to her feet, advancing on me. Trying to push me out the door.

I cross my arms and hold my ground. “No fucking way. Your dad asked me to watch out for you this summer.”

“Your dad?” the townie echoes in alarm. His head swivels back to her. “I thought you said you were twenty.”

“I am twenty,” she growls. “My dad is just overprotective.”

The guy is already zipping up his pants, not even trying to be discreet about it.

“No,” she bursts out, looking annoyed. “Dave. Come on. We’re not stopping because of this asshole.”

“Yes, you are stopping because of this asshole,” I say coldly. I gesture to his fly. “Come on now. Finish up.”

Fury burns in Blake’s eyes. “Get the fuck out, Wyatt.”

“No. This is not happening. I get that you’re drunk—”

“I’m not drunk,” she interrupts in disbelief. “One shot.” She holds up one finger. “We each had one shot.”

That doesn’t faze me. She can scream at me all night long, but there is no way on God’s green earth that this man’s pants are coming off tonight. I don’t care if it makes me a possessive caveman or a psycho or whatever other accusation she wants to hurl my way.

It. Ain’t. Fucking. Happening.

“You know what?” Her date edges away from her. Guy’s not dumb, I’ll give him that. “I think this might be too messy for me.”