that’s why you’re here.”
“I got that from Hollis on Sunday.”
He leans forward, and this time his smile is one of pride. “She’s a great manager, but we need to ask a favor of you. You and Mace have this thing going on. We don’t know what it is, but the bets and the eye-fucking? It’s a thing with you two. We have a proposal for you. A wager, if you will.”
“No.”
“You haven’t even heard what I have to say. Just listen. We’re going to a bar tonight for drinks. There’s another band playing there, but Hollis called ahead and asked if we could do one song.”
My shoulders hunch, and I lean back to eye him. “Why?”
“We need him to see that he can take lead. I want you to bet him that he can’t sing onstage. He never backs down from a bet, and I guarantee he’ll do it, even though it scares him, because it’ll be you setting the challenge.”
“What’s my prize?”
“Whatever you want.” He looks like he means it, but I’m skeptical.
“I’ll think about it.”
“You have about seven hours, then.” He hits the table with his fist and grins. “You’ll do it. I know you will.”
When he walks out the door, I know he’s right. Twelve days is all it has taken, and I hate that I know how long it’s been since I met Tyler.
Chapter Twelve
From the Private Journal of Tyler Macy
I write notes on her, and she still hasn’t found them. Last night I left a clef note behind her right knee. The music is getting worse every time we’re together. Louder. More cohesive. I’m craving the times I get to be alone with her and listen to her heart beat in three-quarter time. I want to record it and use it as the bass line in a song.
She calls me Tyler.
There was a time when hearing my own name made me sick.
If she were staying longer, I’d let her call me anything she wanted to. But she is leaving, and I think it’s for the best. She’s in love with the Big Apple and the Peach State. Her map is filled with lines and places that do not include coming back to Texas.
So I won’t ask her to.
—M
Chapter Thirteen
I knock on his door at eight o’clock on the dot. He yells for me to come in, and when I do, I see him tying his shoes, barely looking my way until I shut the door behind me with a click. His attention is finally on me, and the way he’s staring makes my chest grow warm and tight.
This is the first time I’ve really seen his apartment, which is ridiculous given how much time we’ve spent together over the last few days. It’s neat and tidy, everything in its place, with room enough for his drum set and a small upright piano against the far wall. It is everything I would expect and more.
“Hi.” I walk over to give him a gentle kiss on the cheek. “You know, this is the first time I’ve really seen this place. The first time I was here, I ran out pretty fast after pepper spraying you.” My eyes wander again, and I’m drawn to the drum set and notice how pristine and shiny everything is. My fingers pop the top of one of the cymbals before I take a seat on the throne and extend my foot to touch the bass pedal.
“I like the way you look on that,” he tells me, coming to rest on the other side.
I blush and swivel a little, getting a better view. “I have no idea how you got all this in here and still have room to live and eat. Kudos, Tyler.”
“Lots of practice. Video games and shit.” He chuckles, and it makes me laugh, too. Then I stand and walk to the small piano bench. There’s sheet music above the keys, and I point to it to ask, “Is this the same piece you were working on?”
“Yeah. It’s incomplete. I mean, the music is there, but I need lyrics.” He sits down next to me and lifts the piano lid. Placing his fingers on the keys and his foot on the pedal, he starts the song. I lean into him and watch him play until the last note floats into the air. He turns toward me and smiles. “Well?”
“I love it. Really, really love it. You’re so
“I got that from Hollis on Sunday.”
He leans forward, and this time his smile is one of pride. “She’s a great manager, but we need to ask a favor of you. You and Mace have this thing going on. We don’t know what it is, but the bets and the eye-fucking? It’s a thing with you two. We have a proposal for you. A wager, if you will.”
“No.”
“You haven’t even heard what I have to say. Just listen. We’re going to a bar tonight for drinks. There’s another band playing there, but Hollis called ahead and asked if we could do one song.”
My shoulders hunch, and I lean back to eye him. “Why?”
“We need him to see that he can take lead. I want you to bet him that he can’t sing onstage. He never backs down from a bet, and I guarantee he’ll do it, even though it scares him, because it’ll be you setting the challenge.”
“What’s my prize?”
“Whatever you want.” He looks like he means it, but I’m skeptical.
“I’ll think about it.”
“You have about seven hours, then.” He hits the table with his fist and grins. “You’ll do it. I know you will.”
When he walks out the door, I know he’s right. Twelve days is all it has taken, and I hate that I know how long it’s been since I met Tyler.
Chapter Twelve
From the Private Journal of Tyler Macy
I write notes on her, and she still hasn’t found them. Last night I left a clef note behind her right knee. The music is getting worse every time we’re together. Louder. More cohesive. I’m craving the times I get to be alone with her and listen to her heart beat in three-quarter time. I want to record it and use it as the bass line in a song.
She calls me Tyler.
There was a time when hearing my own name made me sick.
If she were staying longer, I’d let her call me anything she wanted to. But she is leaving, and I think it’s for the best. She’s in love with the Big Apple and the Peach State. Her map is filled with lines and places that do not include coming back to Texas.
So I won’t ask her to.
—M
Chapter Thirteen
I knock on his door at eight o’clock on the dot. He yells for me to come in, and when I do, I see him tying his shoes, barely looking my way until I shut the door behind me with a click. His attention is finally on me, and the way he’s staring makes my chest grow warm and tight.
This is the first time I’ve really seen his apartment, which is ridiculous given how much time we’ve spent together over the last few days. It’s neat and tidy, everything in its place, with room enough for his drum set and a small upright piano against the far wall. It is everything I would expect and more.
“Hi.” I walk over to give him a gentle kiss on the cheek. “You know, this is the first time I’ve really seen this place. The first time I was here, I ran out pretty fast after pepper spraying you.” My eyes wander again, and I’m drawn to the drum set and notice how pristine and shiny everything is. My fingers pop the top of one of the cymbals before I take a seat on the throne and extend my foot to touch the bass pedal.
“I like the way you look on that,” he tells me, coming to rest on the other side.
I blush and swivel a little, getting a better view. “I have no idea how you got all this in here and still have room to live and eat. Kudos, Tyler.”
“Lots of practice. Video games and shit.” He chuckles, and it makes me laugh, too. Then I stand and walk to the small piano bench. There’s sheet music above the keys, and I point to it to ask, “Is this the same piece you were working on?”
“Yeah. It’s incomplete. I mean, the music is there, but I need lyrics.” He sits down next to me and lifts the piano lid. Placing his fingers on the keys and his foot on the pedal, he starts the song. I lean into him and watch him play until the last note floats into the air. He turns toward me and smiles. “Well?”
“I love it. Really, really love it. You’re so
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