Brennan: If I agree to help you, will you STFU? What do you need me to do?
Me: Just carve out some time for me between now and then to run through some new songs.
Brennan: Is someone over his writer’s block?
Me: Yeah, well, someone once told me heartache is good for lyrical inspiration. Unfortunately, he was right.
Brennan: Sounds like a smart guy.
I close out my texts to Brennan and open one up to Warren.
Me: March 18. I need a local venue. A small one. Then I need you to get Sydney to go there with you that night.
Warren: Is she supposed to know you orchestrated this?
Me: No. Lie to her.
Warren: Not a problem. I’m good at lying.
I set my phone down, pick up my guitar, and walk out onto my balcony. It’s been almost a month since I last saw her. Neither of us has texted the other. I know Warren still keeps in contact with her, but he refuses to tell me anything, so I just stopped asking. As much as I miss her and as much as I want to beg her to just let this begin with us, I know time is better for both of us right now. There was still too much guilt rolled up in the thought of starting something too soon, despite how much we wanted to be together. Waiting until we’re both in a good place is definitely what needs to happen.
However, I feel as if I’m already there. Maybe it’s easier for me because I know where Maggie and I stand, and I know where my heart stands, but Sydney doesn’t have that reassurance. If time will give her that reassurance, then I’ll give her time. Just not too much. March 18 is only three months away. I hope to hell she’s ready by then, because I’m not sure I can keep myself away from her for longer than that.
I scoot my chair to the edge of the balcony and fold my arms over the railing, then look over at her old balcony. Every time I come out here and see her empty chair, it makes all of this so much harder. But I can’t seem to find anything inside my apartment that reminds me of her anymore. She left nothing when she moved, and she really never had anything while she was here. Being outside on this balcony is the closest I can come to feeling her since it seems we’re so far apart.
I lean back in my chair, pick up a pen, and begin writing the lyrics to another song, with nothing but her on my mind.
The cool air running through my hair
Nights like these, doesn’t seem fair
For you and I to be so far away
The stars all shimmer like a melody
Like they’re playing for you and me
But only I can hear their sounds.
I pick up my guitar and work through the first few chords. I want these songs to be enough to convince her that we’re ready, so every single thing has to be perfect. I’m just nervous that I’m relying too much on Warren to help make it happen. I hope he’s more reliable in this situation with Sydney than he is with his rent checks.
Chapter Twenty Five
Sydney
“I’m not going.”
“Yes, you are,” Warren says, kicking my legs off the coffee table. “I’m bored out of my mind. Bridgette works all weekend, and Ridge is off doing God knows what with God knows who.”
I immediately look up at him with my heart caught in my throat.
He laughs. “That got your attention.” He reaches forward, grabs my hands, and pulls me off the couch. “I’m kidding. Ridge is at home working, being a mopey little shit, just like you’re trying to be. Now, go get pretty and come out with me tonight, or I’ll sit on the couch with you and force you to watch porn.”
I pull my hands from his and walk to the kitchen. I open a cabinet, then grab a cup. “I don’t want to go out tonight, Warren. I had class all day, and it’s my only night off from the library. I’m sure you can find someone else to go with you.” I grab a container of juice from the refrigerator and fill my glass. Leaning against the counter, I take a sip as I watch Warren pout in my living room. He’s kind of adorable when he pouts, which is why I always give him such a hard time.