I strum a few chords on the acoustic guitar cradled in my arms. It’s the same one I’ve had since I was twelve years old and wrote my first song. For just a moment, memories of a simpler time press in at the edges. A decade ago, all I could dream about was making music and getting offered a record deal by a label. It’s what I spent every spare minute running toward.
Now, I’m doing everything in my power to escape from it.
A puff of air leaks from me.
It’s funny how life works.
Or maybe a better word would be ironic. Sometimes you get exactly what you asked for, but it’s a twisted version you could have never imagined.
It’s only when I realize that my thoughts have become mired in the past that I shake them away and refocus on the chords, listening to the notes as they vibrate throughout the silence of the apartment. I close my eyes and repeat the movement, allowing them to wash over me for a second time.
When the lyrics accompanying the notes appear in my mind, I snag the pencil tucked behind my ear to jot them down. Then I repeat the chords and sing the verse to see how it sounds.
“In the darkest nights, I stumbled, couldn’t see the light. Lost in a maze, couldn’t replace what’s right. But deep inside, a fire burned, refusing to fade away. A voice inside me whispered, ‘You’ll replace your way.’”
Pleasure rushes through me. There were times throughout the years that I wondered if I’d ever feel inspired to create more music.
It might have taken six months, but it’s finally coming back to me.
This is all I ever wanted to do.
I never asked for the other bullshit that came along with it.
The reality show.
The online haters that watch my every single move, waiting for a fuckup so they can rip it to shreds frame by frame.
So they can rip me to shreds.
That’s the hardest part and what took me the longest to wrap my brain around. As much as they love you, they hate you and want to see you fail.
Even when I tried to close myself off to the criticism, it still managed to invade my brain, contaminating it like a virus, rotting it from the inside out.
Until I started wondering where the truth really lies.
Was I just another one-hit wonder?
Were my fifteen minutes of fame long gone?
Was I now one of those celebrities famous for being famous?
I never realized how easily other people’s hatred and jealousy could be soaked up like a sponge until even the most confident individuals couldn’t help but question themselves and their talent.
If so many people held the same opinion, then it had to be true, right?
Maybe if I’d understood just how much life would change until it became almost unrecognizable, I never would’ve signed that first contract.
But you don’t know what you don’t know.
Especially when you’re a kid.
All I could daydream about was being famous and getting the chance to play my music in front of a real audience. Not one made up of family and friends.
Then again, I was thirteen. There was no way my parents would have turned down that kind of life-changing opportunity or money. They barely read through the legal document before signing on the dotted line.
The past eight years have been spent in front of a camera before finally getting fed up enough to walk away. After wrapping the final episode of All Day Long with Bebe, I’d slipped from the celebration, packed a bag, and taken off.
It didn’t matter if my family or the producers understood.
I needed a break.
From the show.
From them.
From the life we’d created.
I needed time to figure out who I was and what I wanted my future to look like. I was no longer sure if it was long days of filming and a never-ending string of LA parties.
So, I escaped to the one place I knew I was welcome.
My aunt and uncle’s house.
Uncle Sully mentioned that the fall term at Western would start soon and reminded me that I’d always wanted to attend college. It was all the incentive I needed to fill out an application and look for an apartment.
With one semester under my belt, I was even more confused about what I wanted out of life. Every day that passed, California felt less like reality and Western felt more like home.
I pluck the strings again, dispelling those thoughts and refocusing my attention on the music. Another line comes as I harmonize with the tune.
Just as I reach for the pencil, there’s a knock on the door.
I shoot a frown at the entryway.
Since moving into my apartment, I haven’t gone out of my way to make friends with my neighbors. At first, it felt safer to keep my distance. I was afraid someone might recognize me and blow my cover. The longer I’ve been absent from LA, the more speculation has brewed as to why I haven’t been seen out with my family.
Or Axel.
When there’s another, more impatient rap of knuckles against the thick wood, I set my guitar down and pad across the carpet before peering through the peephole.
It’s probably Lance, my neighbor. We’ve studied together half a dozen times or so. He’s a sweet kid. A couple days ago, he asked me out.
I told him that I’d think it over.
My eyes widen and my brows pinch together as I press closer to the door.
No.
Fucking.
Way.
What the hell is Colby McNichols doing here?
I thought I’d nipped his interest in the bud the other night at Slap Shotz.
This guy really can’t take no for an answer, can he?
Unable to help myself, I peer through the tiny hole for a second time, only to replace him pressed against it on the other side.
All I see is the blue of his iris that rings the black pupil.
With a squeak, I fall back a step. My hand flies to my chest as my heart thrums an unsteady beat.
Did he see me?
I really hope not.
I freeze, not wanting to make any noise that will give me away.
If I’m lucky, he’ll—
There’s another, more insistent knock. “I know you’re in there. I can hear you breathing.”
Well, hell.
With a huff, I straighten my shoulders and open the door. “What are you doing here?”
He thrusts a tall to-go cup toward me. “Just thought you might like a peace offering in the form of dark roasted beans.”
I tilt my head and narrow my eyes. “And you know where I live how?”
Even though he shrugs as if it’s no big deal, there’s nothing casual about the intensity that fills his eyes. “Oh, you know…asked around. Turns out that a couple of my teammates live on the second floor.”
“How unfortunate.”
He pretends to wince. “Ouch.”
Or maybe he’s not pretending at all.
My gaze settles on the coffee as the rich aroma wraps around me, tantalizing my senses. I’m operating on fumes and could really use a midafternoon pick-me-up. I chew my bottom lip before reluctantly reaching for the cup. My fingers brush against his, and a zip of electricity sizzles across my skin.
I jerk away, but not before wrapping my hand around the warm container and taking it with me. Unsure what to say, I bring the coffee to my lips and take a sip. My eyelids feather close as a tiny sigh escapes from me before I can reel it back in.
It’s like crack in the form of coffee.
I take another taste before inspecting the tan and white container. “What’s in here?”
The smile that spreads across his face makes his dimples pop. “The Roasted Bean has a McNichols special on the menu. Sorry, I’m not at liberty to tell you what the ingredients are.” He winks. “It’s top secret.”
My mouth falls open. “You’re joking.”
“’Fraid not.” He steps closer and drops his voice. “If I told you, I’d have to tie you up and—”
I roll my eyes and shove him back a pace or two. “I meant that the coffee shop on campus has a drink named after you.”
When his grin intensifies, it becomes necessary to stomp out the arousal attempting to bloom to life in my core. This is exactly how he slides into bed with so many girls. A killer smile coupled with a charming personality—which he has—can work wonders on the female species.
But not me.
I’m the exception to the rule.
“It’s delicious, isn’t it?”
I force my gaze to the to-go cup and grumble, “Yeah, it is.” There’s a beat of silence before I clear my throat, strangely tempted to take another sip.
I give in to the urge.
Damn him.
It really is amazing.
I clear my throat and force myself to remember that I don’t like this guy.
“Well, it seems like your objective has been achieved. You rather creepily found out where I live and delivered your peace offering.” I raise the cup. “Thank you and good day.”
As I take a step in retreat, ready to slam the door in his face, his hand springs out, the palm smacking against the wood.
With a frown, I glance at it and then him.
“I thought we could chill together. Maybe get to know one another a little better.”
Spend time with Colby McNichols?
No way.
I have zero desire to spend another second in his company.
All right…maybe that’s not one hundred percent true, but being alone with this guy would be a mistake. It’s disturbing to realize that I’m not as immune to his charms as I’d originally thought.
“You realize that it’s super stalker-like to just show up at my door, right?”
His face scrunches for a second or two as if seriously pondering the question. “I think what you meant to say is that it’s super romantic I took the time from my busy schedule to track you down and make my interest known.”
Laughter gurgles up in my throat as I shake my head. “Nice reframe, bro. But no.”
He cocks his head. “Did you just call me bro?”
I smirk. “Guess I did.”
“Huh. Is it weird that I kind of liked it?”
The corners of my lips tremble before I flatten them.
Ugh. This guy is completely dangerous.
He needs to go before I cave.
“So…like I told you the other night, I’m not interested. Even with this tasty coffee, my opinion hasn’t changed.”
He flashes another high-wattage smile. “I figured that you couldn’t possibly mean it.”
“Actually, I’ve never been more certain about anything in my life. I am most definitely not interested in you.”
“Wow. It’s a good thing I have such high self-esteem or that might actually hurt.”
“Oh, I think your self-esteem will be just fine. You can replace someone else to kiss your fragile ego.”
“I’d much rather you kiss—’
“Hey, Britt!”
I drag my attention away from Colby, only to replace Lance standing beside him. I try not to notice how my neighbor is both shorter and less muscular in comparison to the brawny hockey player.
With a frown, Lance looks Colby up and down before dismissing him.
His expression brightens as he turns his attention back to me. “Have you given any more thought to getting together this afternoon?”
Unsure what he’s talking about, I rack my brain. “Getting together?”
“Yeah. We talked about making plans last week while studying.”
“Oh, right.” I nod, remembering that he floated the idea after I’d picked up my guitar and played the song I’ve been working on. From everything Lance told me, he wasn’t into pop culture and didn’t watch reality TV.
I’d become so absorbed in the music that I’d forgotten he was sitting across from me until he clapped and whistled, asking for an encore. He’d gone on to say that I was good enough to play professionally. That’s when I shut down the convo.
“When were you thinking?”
Lance looks at his watch. “I’m free if you are.”
“Ummm.” I give Colby a bit of side eye. This would certainly be the easiest way to get rid of him. “Yeah, sure. That works.”
“Great!” Lance beams before pumping his fist in the air. “This is going to be epic!”
I wouldn’t go that far.
But at least I won’t have to spend time—
“Hey, would you mind if I tag along?”
Lance blinks at Colby.
Say no.
Say no.
Say no.
“Sure! The more, the merrier I always say.”
Well, shit.
“I’m sure you’re super busy with hockey and…” My voice trails off.
Screwing groupies?
He grins. Almost like he can hear the thoughts running rampant through my head. “Nope, I’m all yours for the next couple hours.”
My shoulders sink as I frown. “Lucky me.”
“I know, right?” Laughter dances in his eyes. “Isn’t it amazing when everything falls neatly into place?”
I press my lips into a tight line and glare. “When that actually happens, I’ll let you know.”
Before I can think of an excuse to wiggle out of this impromptu date, Colby says, “You know what? I have a great idea.” He flashes another smile. “Make sure you dress warm.”
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