“Yeah,” he murmurs, more to himself than to me.“I think this works.It’s got that…” He gestures vaguely with his hand.“You know, that feeling.”
I do know.
Because it’smyfeeling.
Because this song is the closest I’ll ever come to telling him.
I bite my lip, forcing my voice to stay steady.“You think it’s good?”
He grins at me, so effortlessly Joel, like he doesn’t even realize what that smile does to me.“Yeah, Ace.It’s good.”
Oh my god, that stupid nickname.It didn’t bother me so much back then.
I tuck my chin, trying to fight back the warmth in my chest.
For a second—just one stupid second—I let myself believe that maybe this moment matters.
That maybe this song means something to him, too.
And then?—
It all shatters.
The dream shifts.Warps.
Suddenly, I’m not in my bedroom anymore.
I’m standing in the school auditorium.
The lights are low, the air buzzing with anticipation.
And he’s onstage.
Joel Price, seventeen and stupidly charming, sitting on a stool with my guitar in his lap.
He shifts on the stool, his fingers moving over the strings like he was born with a guitar in his hands.The soft glow of the stage lights casts him in warm gold, turning the world around us dim, unimportant.
And then—he looks at me.
Straight at me.
Like I’m the only person in the room.
The first chord hums through the auditorium, soft and familiar, wrapping around my ribs like a memory I never wanted to share.I know this song.Iwrotethis song.
My breath catches as his voice drifts through the speakers.
Do you see me, even when I’m quiet?
Do you hear me, when I don’t know what to say?
I don’t have the words, I don’t have the courage?—
But maybe I don’t have to, if you feel the same way.
The lyrics slam into me, knocking the breath from my lungs.
Because they’re mine.My heart laid bare, my secret stitched into every word, every aching note.