Page 59 of Pink and Country

I couldn’t see the light

I thought I had it all figured out

But I didn’t, I had no clue

And then you came my way

You disrupted everything I’ve always known…

I kept my eyes closed, letting my voice and my guitar do the talking.

… Girl, I just want you to know

I want my life to be pink like yours

Babe, I’ll never let you go

You’re my absolute favorite color.

On the last words, I blew out a nervous breath. My voice and fingers, steady and self-assured, were a far cry from the way I felt inside. My stomach was a puddle of jelly and my heart a mushy ball.

The applause from the small crowd filled the room, and it tugged at my heartstrings. I cocked my head, and April captured all my attention. She wiped the tears rolling down her cheeks with the tips of her fingers and sent the most awesome smile my way.

Yeah, I put my heart on the line.

The only way I knew how.

13

April

C arter sang the last verse of my song. My song. Carter Hills, the one and only, wrote me a song. My heels glued to the floor, my fingers laced, palms pressed together in a prayer, resting under my chin. I stood straight, my body rock solid, a contrast to the jittery chaos inside me. A flow of tears streamed down my face, and my heart danced around in my chest. A tingling sensation traveled throughout my body, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind, like raindrops on cobblestones. Carter couldn’t feel this way about me. We barely knew each other. However, the idea I inspired him to write a song made me all kinds of emotional.

A Premenstrual-syndrome-I’m-crying-when-I-see-a-puppy-on-TV mess. Me, April Simmons, the girl who always ended up alone, had inspired the song lyrics to a famous country star. I pinched myself—thrice, just in case. The pain didn’t wash the dream away. Euphoria rooted inside me, and all my thoughts dissolved, my eyes and ears consuming the emotionally charged, it-won’t-happen-twice, best-four-minutes of my life.

Carter wrapped up his show, and I heard the applause and cheers, but my feet refused to move. People talked to me—June, Riley, and a bunch of other people—but I didn’t register anything they said. The idea Carter Hills saw me, really saw me, fractured a boulder the size of Australia, sitting deep inside me for as long as I could remember.

The one I pushed down years ago after I met Saunders and Travis. The one that made me believe, for a long time, I wasn’t worthy of anybody’s else time and affection, thanks to my parents. Now it was gone. For good. My eyes raked over Carter from the side of the stage.

Carter waltzed my way backstage. My body shut down. I couldn’t breathe. My heart was frozen. My limbs were numb. His hands circled my waist, and I snapped out of my daze. I cupped his cheeks, my eyes wet with a mix of confusion and amazement. My thumbs grazed his shorter stubble, and my lips crashed on his. I forgot about June next to me and ignored everybody else around us.

Jitters tickled my spine.

My emotions locked the words in, so instead of speaking, I let my lips express the avalanche trampling my heart, leaving it raw and unguarded. Our mouths feasted on each other. My knees buckled, and I tightened my grip around his neck. Carter Hills wrote me a song. His mouth tasted like mint and sweat. A deadly combination wreaking havoc on my hormones. With a swirl of his tongue around mine, Carter ignited me and turned me to ashes in his arms. Our friendship—I cringed, lacking a more proper term to describe us—made no sense, although our lips fused together felt as natural as breathing. Carter leaned back, one large hand curled around the back of my neck and the other hooked on my hip, holding me upright. The heat in his eyes scorched me alive, and the smug grin on his face glistened, giving him a devilish vibe.

Hours later, in Carter’s suite, sitting amongst some of his closest friends and his managing team, I still couldn’t believe this night wasn’t a dream. A fantasy world. A parallel universe.

Carter introduced me to people he cared about as if I were a permanent fixture in his life. As if I belonged with him.

I took a sip of my champagne, the aftermath of the concert sinking in.

In the folder of “crazy things that happened in my life,” tonight stole the top spot. By far.

A foreign sensation blistered inside me, and I rubbed the pipe of my throat to ease the air coming in and out of my lungs. I closed my eyes and inhaled through my mouth, hoping to erase the crippling feeling knotting my stomach. My memory would fade over time, and I wished I had the first time Carter played my song captured on video. One I could replay over and over every time I had a bad day or the urge to listen to it, the exact way he sang it tonight, not the one he’d record or the tenth time he’d sing it, but that one time. The very first time. I wanted to bathe in Carter’s words and drown in his melody.

All my senses heightened as I listened to Carter’s friends telling stories about the good old days, as they called them. When the world wasn’t ruled by social media and cell phones were a shit substitute for cameras. Carter’s pine and cedarwood scent, now that he’d showered and changed, filled my nostrils and made me lightheaded. His calloused fingers skimmed my skin, making me wish we were alone. The taste of him lingered on my tongue, hours after we kissed, and I wished it’d never fade away.

Carter Hills possessed me in a way I never thought possible. He rocked my world with a song and a kiss. A pretty memorable kiss, though. My toes curled up, and a twitch rumpled deep inside me. Ohmygod.