Page 1 of First Verse

prologue

EVA 15 | WILDER 17

Late afternoon sunlight dances among leaves in the giant sycamore tree, polka-dotting Wilder’s dark, messy hair and broad shoulders with flares of gold. His face is downturned, his focus on the open notebook in his lap. As I watch, he pulls a pencil from between his teeth, scratches a few words onto a page, then tucks it back in his mouth.

This has been going on for ten minutes. Write-chew-write-chew. The anxiety of not knowing what he’s writing, coupled with the fact I can’t seem to look away, makes me feel like I’m being sunburned in the shade.

I can’t take it anymore.

“Stop chewing on my pencil. What are you, five?”

“Better than chewing my nails,” he mutters without looking up.

I tuck my hands discreetly under my crossed legs. “Whatever. Are you done yet?”

Speckled green eyes lift from the notebook. He pulls the pencil from between his teeth, the wet eraser briefly depressing his lower lip. My breath catches and my thoughts turn hazy.

“Why do you care what I do with my mouth, Evangeline?” he asks teasingly.

Snapped out of my trance, I glower at him. “I care about my pencil, dumbass.”

He wipes it off on his chest, then offers it to me.

I make a face. “Forget it. It’s yours now.”

His grin is a sunrise that begins in his eyes and spreads across his face, so bright it scorches my cheeks.

“I’m done,” he says lightly, tossing the notebook into my lap.

Seizing the distraction, I flip to the page of lyrics we’re working on. He left most of them untouched but rewrote the chorus. When I read his messy words in the margin, my stomach flips.

I look up to find him smirking, his eyes narrowed as he waits for my reaction.

“No way. I’m not singing this.”

His brows lift. “Why not? Besides, we’d sing it together.”

A breeze skips around us, rustling leaves and shifting the paths of sunbeams. My gaze bounces between the words and him. He’s not looking at me anymore, his face upturned to the lush, arterial beauty above us.

“It’s…”Incredible,I think. But what comes out instead is, “Cheesy.”

His eyes cut to me sharply. “You think it’s cheesy?”

Instant regret fills me. I clear my throat, shaking my head. “No,” I say softly. “I don’t know why I said that.”

But I do.

The words are unlike any he’s written before. I don’t know how to feel about them—or maybe they make me feel too much. I’m surprised. Flustered. Curious. My heart is racing. There’s a knot in stomach I can’t explain.

I read the lyrics again.

Baby, this is destiny

I’ll follow you into the sea

I’ll come for you, you’ll see

Set us free — You and me

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