Page 85 of Playing With My Heart Strings

She pushes her ass against me, matching me thrust-for-thrust in rhythm and intensity.

“I’m close,” I choke out.

Our bodies work in unison, claiming each other as her sweet cries pierce the room and we both come undone, the warmth of my release filling her.

My head finds the crook of her neck, and we stay there, neither of us wanting to separate. My chest heaves against her back and sweat rolls down my cheeks, but I need this moment with her to last.

“Baylor,” I press my lips against her neck, humming her name.

“Yeah?”

“Nothing.” I let out a content sigh. It’s not nothing, though. There’s always beensomethingbetween us, and I think I realize what it is then.

Baylor’s always felt familiar. Whether it was our back and forth banter, or singing together, or just lying in the dark, holding each other. She reminds me what I want my future to look like. What my futurecouldlook like.

She feels like home.

the confessionals

Producer:You look happy.

Baylor:I am. I really am.

Producer:Do you think you’ll make it to the end?

Baylor:I’m not sure. But I’m starting to think maybe I could.

34

baylor

Scandal

I haven’t seenDusty all morning. After our night in the dressing room, he walked me back to the hotel. We shockingly didn’t run into any producers. But this trip, the contestants all have roommates, so Dusty wasn’t able to sneak into my room and I wasn’t going to try to sneak into his. It was too risky.

When I got back to my room, Sage was sprawled out on her bed, drool rolling down the side of her mouth. She left the lights on, so I got ready for bed, turned them out, and went to sleep. It’s probably best she wasn’t awake. Allowed me to avoid a potentially awkward interrogation.

We don’t have to be at the concert venue until four this afternoon. Doors will open around five thirty and the show starts at seven, so it gives us plenty of time to relax. The producers offered to accompany us if we wanted to walk around and explore, but we’re all exhausted from the day before, some of us (me) more than others and in different ways. The spot between my legs is still sore, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I found small purple marks peppered around my body.

Katherine, Valerie, Sage, and I all sit at a table in the hotel restaurant.

“I can’t believe it’s already been eight weeks,” Valerie mumbles between bites of her eggs benedict. “It feels like we just started.”

“It’s kind of bittersweet that there are only two weeks left of the show. But then again, that’s only for two of us,” Katherine replies a bit sadly.

“I wish all of us could get record deals and go on tour with Dusty,” Sage adds, but there’s some humor to her voice. “We could all just be country music sister-wives.”

That gets a laugh out of everyone, at least for a brief moment. But it ends when Katherine whispers, “Who do you think will go home this week?”

It’s the question everyone’s been thinking, but we’ve all been too scared to ask.

The group falls silent. If Aspen were here, she’d have an opinion and would unabashedly share it. But she’s not here, and there’s an air of mutual love and respect within our group.

“It could be any one of us,” I dare to answer. “It’s going to be a tough decision.”

The girls all nod in agreement.

“We’ll all have to do our absolute best,” Valerie agrees. “Luckily, we’ve already performed the set once, though.”

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