AllFreeNovel
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“Yeah, it is pretty chilly out here,” I agree with her, patting Bear on the head as I scoot past the two of them and take a seat across from her. It puts the fire between us, and while I don’t like the distance from her, I do like the way the glow of the fire illuminates her face—she looks like heaven.
And even Bear looks pretty cute.
“Okay, so how do we write this song?” she asks, flashing me a nervous smile that makes my heart jump. “I really hope you’re not expecting something great out of me. I only just broke through my writing block a couple days ago, and before that, well it wasn’t good—”
“You mean your last book?” I chime in. Her face drops, but I continue anyway. “I read it, and honestly, I don’t understand why it got such bad reviews.”
Her eyebrows raise at the remark, and she tilts her head at me. “You read the whole thing? Or just the synopsis?”
I laugh, shaking my head at her. “Yeah, I read the whole thing. I stayed up late the first night in the hotel and read the whole thing. I was going to read your other book too, but I wanted to read the one that didn’t do as well first—you know, to see you at your worst. But it just ... it wasn’t bad at all. Like I said, I thought it was good.”
A thoughtful smile stretches across her face. “I really appreciate you reading it—or really anything that I wrote. I actually really enjoyed writing that novel, and I thought that it was going to do well,” she pauses, her smile fading to a frown, “the bad reviews shocked me.”
I nod, sympathy filling my chest. “I know what you mean. I don’t write books, but I do write songs. My last album didn’t do as great as others, and my favorite song on the whole thing got the worst reviews. I’ve gotten used to people not liking—or even hating my music, but there’s still some sort of disappointment and feeling of failure that goes with it. My songs are an expression of myself, and it can feel personal when they don’t like them.”
Callie nods, her face full of understanding. “It does feel personal, doesn’t it? It’s kinda crazy, too, because I always just thought my stories were just ... stories. I mean, I usually expect that my books won’t be for everyone, but totally flopping was something I never expected. It really killed my confidence, and I’ve been trying to get it back before my career falls apart.”
“You’ll get it back with this next book—I’m sure of it.”
“So, this song...” Callie clears her throat. “Why don’t you show me what you have? I don’t know much about the process of songwriting.”
“Well, that’s the thing with songwriting,” I say with a smile. “I don’t think there’s a right or wrong way to do it. I do have a good basis for the music structure of the song though. I came up with a melody when we first got here, and then I have my chord progression already. It’s mainly just filling in the words.”
She nods, perking up. “Okay, I think maybe I can do this.” A small giggle escapes her lips, and I catch myself staring at those full, soft lips.
Man, what I’d do to kiss those supple lips again.
Clearing my throat, I push the thought away and readjust the guitar in my lap. I place my capo on the third fret and begin plucking out a sweet and soft tune in the key of C. My gaze shifts to Callie and my mouth grows dry as I prepare to sing the first verse I’ve written.
What the heck is wrong with me? I never get nervous.
“I like this,” Callie remarks, leaning her elbows on her knees. Bear’s already snoozing, probably exhausted from his long run out into the woods.
“Yeah, that’s the intro,” I choke out, before shifting to the progression of the first verse. My nerves rattle around in my chest as I start to worry about whether she’ll catch on that it’s all about her.
Just sing it, Wade.
And so, I do.
There’s something about an old place and an unfamiliar face that can wake you up, leave you battered in the middle of the night.
My head spins when you walk in, and suddenly everything feels right.
You’ve got something about you, makes me want to be a better man, makes me want to make big plans.
I move to the chorus and then drop off, running out of words. “And that’s all I’ve got.”
Her eyes light up. “That was beautiful. I loved the riff—or whatever you call that, during the bridge. I think it added to it.”
She knows more than she lets on.
“Ah yeah, thanks. I was thinking that it might make a good duet, what do you think?” I rest my arms on my old guitar, the pick guard and wood thoroughly scratched to pieces from hours of writing songs.
“A duet could be pretty,” she says, narrowing her eyes at me as I shoot her a smirk. I’m almost positive her cheeks are turning red, but it’s too hard to tell with the glow of the fire.
“I think you should sing it,” I say confidently, still holding her eyes. There’s something about them that lights a fire inside of me, but I know there’s no way that I can act on it—we only just got back on speaking terms. Those two days of silence felt like the longest days of my life.
She probably deserves better than me, anyway.
