Page 45 of First Verse

Sunlight shifting around sycamore leaves. His frowning face as he scribbled in one of our journals. Falling asleep on his bedroom floor while he puzzled through melodies on his guitar. Rare, throaty laughter. Freckled, mood-ring eyes. The expression on his face whenever I sang, like I was the only person who mattered in the world.

Stage lights and cheers and that perfect, glowing space of our creation. Our eyes and hands and voices and lyrics. The connection between us burning like a star, infinite explosions drowning out all background noise. Everything beyond us reduced to colorless ash.

His flexing hips and supple, ink-littered skin. His tongue licking sweat from between my breasts. Eyes holding mine as he drove me toward oblivion and then commanded me to jump like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like he was and will always be the architect and master of my body’s secret codes.

“Shit,” whispers Lily.

Her face comes back into focus, as does her apprehensive expression. I quickly press my hand to her bouncing knee.

“Whatever happens with Wilder, my number one focus right now is ourfuture. If he wants to be a part of my life, that’s up to him. But I’m not going to sacrifice everything we’ve worked toward for him. I can promise you that.”

As I say the words, I hear the truth in them. So does Lily. Her shoulders relax, but she still asks, “And if he pulverizes your heart again?”

I force a smile. “What’s that Grace Cunningham quote you were obsessed with last year after that asshole dumped you?”

“‘Love is good for music, but heartbreak is good for art.’”She makes a face. “To clarify, I liked that quote beforeI knew Wilder’s grandmother said it.”

I laugh. “Fair enough.”

A knock on the door is followed by Rye’s voice. “All loaded up and ready to go!”

Lily smirks and calls back, “The gear or your dick, Henderson?”

“Date me and find out, Aoki!”

I roll my eyes and stand to gather my things from around the dressing room. Lily lets Rye inside, and they trade flirtatious comments as she does the same.

In the last month and a half—with Rye acting as our roadie, merch-man, and producer—I’ve grown used to their glaring chemistry. And ever since Lily ended her fling with Tyler from The Remnants, their banter has taken on an increasingly sexual charge.

My best friends’ private parts are on a collision course, but I’ve come to terms with it. In fact, I have a feeling when they finally give in, they’ll discover they’re actually perfect for each other.

Ten minutes later, I give Lily a hug goodbye and she hops into Rye’s passenger seat. He lingers beside my car with me, flipping his keys around his fingers.

“Thanks for taking her home, Rye. Don’t knock her up, okay?”

He almost drops the keys. “What? I wouldn’t. I mean—Lily’s not like that. Or I’m not like that. With her.Fuck.Shutting up now.”

Laughing, I open my car door and drop into the seat. Rye bends down to make eye contact, his solemn face wiping the smile from mine.

I swallow hard. “You don’t have to say it—I know. I can’t tell you this isn’t a huge mistake. But I have to find out. I hope you understand.”

He nods. “I do understand. I think it’s true for both of you. It’s time to find out.” He looks like he wants to say more, but instead smacks the hood of my car and grins. “You good to drive, grandma? It’s pretty dark out there.”

I roll my eyes. “Goodnight.”

He winks. “Night, Eva.”

He jogs toward his car and Lily. I start my car and drive home. To Wilder. Tous.

I don’t notice the darkness.

CHAPTERSIXTEEN

wilder

Bells were ringing

At the end of time

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