I should probably be working on the lyrics, but I watch him play the entire song without once opening his eyes. When he finishes, I quickly glance down to my notebook, because I know he’s about to open his eyes and look up at me. I pretend I’m writing, and he flips his guitar around the correct way, then leans back against my dresser and begins playing the song again.
I focus on the lyrics and think about what he said. Ridge was right. I wasn’t thinking about the fact that a guy would be singing them. I was focused on pouring my feelings onto paper. I close my eyes and try to picture Ridge singing the song.
I try to imagine what it would be like to be honest about what I’m feeling for him and use that to take the lyrics a little further. I open my eyes and cross out the first line of the song, then begin rewriting the first verse.
Watching him from here
Seeing something from so far away
Get a little closer every day
Thinking that I want to make it mine
I think the real reason I’m not able to write tonight is that every line that ends up on paper is about Ridge, and I know Ridge will be able to see through it. He pulled the lyrics out of the trash and already read through them, so he has to have an idea. Still . . . he’s here, wanting me to finish the song. I focus on the second verse and try to keep his advice in mind.
I’d run for him you if I could stand
But I can’t make that demand
What I want I can’t demand
’Cause what I want is you
I continue to go through the lyrics on the page, crossing out the old lines and changing them up as Ridge plays the song several times.
If I could be his, I would wait
And if I can’t be yours now
I’ll wait here on this ground
Till you come, till you take me away
Maybe someday
Maybe someday
The page becomes messy and hard to read, so I set it aside and open my notebook to rewrite everything. Ridge stops playing for a few minutes while I transfer everything onto the new page. When I look up at him, he points to the page, wanting to read what I’ve written. I nod.
He walks to the bed and sits next to me, leaning in toward me to read what I’ve got so far.
I’m extremely aware that he might see right through the lyrics and know they have more to do with him than with Hunter, which causes panic to course through my veins. He pulls the notebook closer to him, but it’s still on my lap. His shoulder is pressed to mine, and his face is so close he could probably feel my breath against his cheek . . . if I were breathing. I force my eyes to fall where his have, onto the lyrics rewritten across the page on my lap.
I try to ignore what you say
You turn to me
I turn away
Ridge picks up the pen and marks through the last line, then tilts his head to face me. He points the pen at himself and makes a writing motion in the air, indicating that he wants to change something.
I nod, full of nerves and fear that he doesn’t like it. He presses his pen to the paper, next to the lyrics he crossed out. He pauses for a few seconds before writing and slowly turns to face me again. His expression is full of trepidation, and I’m curious about what’s causing it. His eyes fall from mine, slowly grazing over me until his attention is back on the page. He inhales and carefully exhales, then begins writing the new lyrics. I watch him write out the lyrics to the entire song as I follow closely along, deciphering the new lyrics he adds in himself.
MAYBE SOMEDAY
Seeing something from so far away
Get a little closer every day