Page 63 of Before You
CHAPTER TWENTY
Marley
MY SONGBOOK IS lying flat in front of me open to the song I’m working on as I strum the chords of my guitar a few times. I’ve been stuck on it for the last hour after getting off the phone with Kaden, and all the phone call accomplished was making me miss my little brother, especially after seeing everyone else this weekend.
“I’ve tried to fight this feeling.
The one making my knees weak and my head spin.
I didn’t understand before.
But I understand now.
It’s only been you.
It’s only ever been you, even before you,”I sing softly, strumming the chords while following along with the scribbles and notes in my songbook, trying to find my footing.
“I think you’re the only one, the only one that’s ever seen me.
Now I’m here, singing a stupid song about stupid you and stupid me . . .”I trail off, dropping my guitar next to me as I flop backwards into the pillows of my bed. I groan, dragging my hands over my face as my door creaks open.
I jump half out of my skin, nearly slipping off the edge of the bed as I turn to see who’s there. I instantly smile at the sight of JJ, his massive frame filling the doorway, my heart skipping abeat as he fixes his smile on me. I knew he was coming over, but I must have lost track of time.
“Personally? Your song about stupid me andprettyyoumight be my new favorite, but I think I have a bone to pick with the writer who never locks her front door,” JJ says, crossing his arms over his chest as he raises an eyebrow.
“Would it make you feel better if I said I unlocked it specifically for you?” I ask, sitting up as JJ takes steps toward me to close the distance between us.
“No. I’m perfectly capable of standing out there by myself until you come let me in. You and Bria need to start locking your door.”
I stick my tongue out at him. “You’ll be happy to hear my dad has a locksmith coming by in the morning to install one with a five-minute auto lock timer, ergo, problem solved.”
“You could have led with that, sweetheart,” he says, taking a seat next to me, leaning in to brush his lips over my cheek, his stubble scratchy. “How was your night?”
“It was fun. My dad and Tessa made dinner, and then Bria got a text from Asher when her dad had her phone,” I say, a quiet laugh bubbling from me.
JJ laughs, shaking his head. “Of course he did. What did it say?” he asks, and I try not to get distracted by the bags under his eyes.
“Something along the lines of she’s the most beautiful girl in the world, but it’s pretty obvious he’s not the best at drunk texting,” I say, and JJ laughs, the sound a deep rumble from his chest.
“Sounds like something he would do. What did Bria say?”
I raise my eyebrows skeptically because JJ’s spent enough time with Bria to know exactly what she did next. “Denied everything, of course.” I roll my eyes because she’s acting ridiculous, but after what our fathers put JJ through, I don’tblame her. “How was your night? It sounded like you had fun.” I didn’t expect him to answer last night when I texted, but I wanted him to know I was thinking about him. Charlie said he spent the night sleeping on the bathroom floor.
JJ smiles, but it looks forced. He reaches for my hand, and I’d be lying if I said anxiety wasn’t creeping in. “Honestly, I would rather have been here with you,” he says, a soft exhale escaping his lips. “I’m sorry I wasn’t.”
“Are you okay?” I ask, wondering if there’s more he’s not saying.
His thumb swipes over the back of my hand, and he nods after a moment. “Better now that I’m with you,” he says, and JJ lifts my hand, pressing his lips to my knuckles. “Didn’t mean to interrupt you, but I couldn’t have my girl calling herself stupid in a song.” JJ’s eyes twinkle, meeting mine through his dark lashes, and I feel a flush crawl up my neck. My god, I’m not sure which wreaks more havoc on my heart—being called his girl or sweetheart—but either way, they do a number on me.
“It’s still a work in progress,” I say, willing myself to not hide this part of me from him.
JJ glances at the open songbook, and I reach for it before he can try. I’ve written too many songs about him to have it sitting out. I have no doubt if I asked him to leave it alone, he would in a heartbeat, but if I knew JJ had a notebook lying around with songs he’d written about me, I can admit it’d be tempting.
“Do you write a lot of songs about me?” he teases, and I roll my eyes, trying to feign nonchalance when my heart is actually galloping at the speed of a racehorse.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I say, getting up to move the guitar to its stand in the corner, setting the songbook on the shelf nearby. My queen bed somehow looks small with JJ sitting on it, watching me with his dark hair waving messily in a way to make me want to tangle my fingers in them while I kiss him.
Will being with him ever stop feeling like a dream?
