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Riding a wave of impulsiveness, I add my voiceovertop.

Her words.The ones she just sang, but the music’sdifferent.

She doesn’t say anything for a verse, thenanother.

Finally, I stop playing and meet her gaze, my heart hammering in mychest.

Her lips are parted, her expression coloring in awe. “What did youdo?”

“I changed it alittle.”

I half expect her to freak on me, like the guys at the studio do when I mess with theirwork.

Instead, Annie grabs a pen from her bag and drags the piano bench over to my stool, close enough our thighstouch.

If she feels me tighten next to her, she doesn’t acknowledge it. My sleeves are rolled up, and she takes my arm, holding my hand, and starts towrite.

“I have more words since I took those pictures,” she explains as she works. “Betterones.”

Her skin’s warm on mine as she fills my bare forearm with ink, wrist to elbow. I don’t stopher.

Each phrase has my heart thudding dully in my chest, has me looking between her bent head and my skin, has me longing for something I don’t understand and don’t needto.

“There.” She shifts back onto thebench.

I want to reach for her, but instead I reach for myguitar.

Then Iplay.

The words are music, flowing from my fingers likewater.

My thigh’s still touching hers, our bodies inches apart, as she joins in singing at thechorus.

Her attention is on me, not the guitar. I can feel her gaze—I’ve always felt hergaze.

It’s like the sun on a summerday.

I thrill to it, thrive onit.

When we finish, we both exhalehard.

“Tyler,” she murmurs. “Thatwas…”

Spectacular. Raw. Fuckingincredible.

I can’t voice the words because they’re too big and too small for what I’mfeeling.

She straightens in her seat, pressing her lips together. Her face is tight, but her eyes are bright, expressive. “I can’t perform that. It’s yourmusic.”

“Sure youcan.”

Annie seems to wrestle with it. “If I land the closing spot, I’ll give you the money. You said you have bills from your dad. That wouldhelp.”

“No. It would be yours.” Still, the fact that she’s thinking of me makes my guttwist.

There it is. The reason I can’t ignoreher.

She makes me feel that I’m more than I am, like I matter just for beinghere.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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