Page 45 of Composed
What if they really do hate me? Worse still, what if they’re indifferent? What if everything I thought we were was all just a teenage dream? What if they moved on with their lives and never again thought about little old Hendrix Moore?
What if…
“I think you are, yes,” Riley says, her voice anchoring me as she presses her pinkie finger against mine. “What can I do?”
I curl our fingers together, grateful for the lifeline she offers, and squeak, “Press the button?”
“Sorry, Hendrix.” She laughs, but still shakes her head when I turn to her. “I can’t do this for you.”
“Fat lot of good you are then.” I scowl, but the blank look on her face has my lips twitching.
“You can do it. I believe in you,” she says, so simply as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. “And if you don’t want to, we can turn right around, get back in the car, and pretend this never happened.”
As if her words are all the permission I need, I stumble back a step.
My gaze darts between my car on the other side of the road and the little black box. Fight or flight. It’s a feeling I know all too well.
I draw in a raggedy breath and force myself to stay at the door.
“I can do this,” I whisper.
Ihaveto do this.
A long time ago, I made a promise to four boys. Those boys may not exist now, but the promise still remains. As long as they ask, I’ll write music for them. And here they are,asking.
Chapterfifteen
Hendrix • Then
In Friends We Trust – Chunk! No, Captain Chunk!
Sixteen Years Old
Saint’spalmislockedtight around mine as he drags me down the street.
My Vans slap against the concrete, my breaths choppy as I try to keep up with his long strides.
Somewhere in the last year, he had an epic growth spurt that's taken him past my five-ten and right up over the six-foot mark. It’s almost impossible to keep up without all-out sprinting these days.
“Wai…” I tug myself free. Bending, I press down on my thighs and fight to catch my breath. “Hold. Please. Can’t. Breathe.”
“We’re gonna be late.” He stomps his foot, his lips pushed out into a pathetic pout.
I wheeze. “Better late than dead.”
He rolls his eyes, pulling a slick cardboard box from his pocket, and sticking a cigarette between his teeth. “Please. I’d just call Cole and he’ll give you the kiss of life. It’s not like you two haven’t been practicingthatskill all day every day for the last year. Your mouths are practically glued together.”
Heat crawls over my cheeks.
We’re notthatbad.
“You’re just jealous Theo won’t go near those pretty boy lips of yours.” I glare.
“Below the belt, Rix.” He hisses, smoke curling from the corner of his lips, before he smirks. “You think I’m pretty? Do you need to tell Cole we’re running away together? Better yet, can I?”
He ruffles my hair.
I swat his hand away and flick his forehead. “God. You’re annoying.”
