Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 60750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
“It’s a completely foreign concept.” He smirks. “Especially after we’ve been to bed together—”
“So, you were fucking her.” I groan. “Well, in that case, I’m glad she didn’t catch whatever bullshit you were trying to put in her head. She’s been nothing but focused for the last few weeks, and I really think it’s made a world of difference—”
“Fuck, do you think it’s Van?” Rhys brings a hand up to the side of his face. “Has he told you anything about her? Have they been fucking in that little side studio of his?”
“Why does it matter either way, Rhys?” I let out a tired sigh. “I don’t understand what’s going on with you. If Alyssa isn’t interested, why don’t you just go find someone who is?”
“Have you seen the woman?” Rhys scoffs. “Are you saying that you’d let a woman like that just walk right out of your life?”
“I mean, sure she’s pretty—well, she’s beautiful,” I reply with a shrug. “But so what? That’s just another part of being a lead singer. She’s not special because she’s hot.”
“You just don’t get it, Cameron.” Rhys shrugs in return. “But what else was I expecting? You’re not super into sex, anyway—”
“Just because I’m not a man-whore doesn’t mean that I’m not super into sex—”
“Whatever,” Rhys interrupts with a childish grin. “Just…let me know if she says anything about me, okay? Keep an eye out?”
“I’ve got your back, Rhys,” I reply. “To the end of the fucking road.”
“Ventura! How the hell are we doing tonight?!” Alyssa shouts into the microphone, and the crowd roars at her in response. It’s our first gig as a band. Gregory booked us at a midsize theater about a week or so ago. Even though it’s not a full stadium or anything, the energy rolling off the crowd is electric, and the excitement feels like it’s moving right through my fingers.
Fucking finally.
I smile as the lights on the stage begin to move back and forth against its length, sometimes framing my piano underneath their brightness, sometimes catching Van’s drums or Rhys’s guitar, too. My attention then goes back to Alyssa, who’s wearing a pair of cut-off jeans, a plain white T-shirt, and what look like a pair of sneakers that are a few seasons old. It’s almost like she’s basking in some sort of anti-glamour, her brown hair falling all across her shoulders, even though she’s still warming up the crowd.
And for a second, it all seems to click for me.
I can see it.
I still might not understand it, Rhys’s obsession with her, but I can see how it might’ve started. There is something special about Alyssa Smith, a light that seems to emanate from within, her huge smile only making things so much brighter. And now that I can see it for myself, it sets off a chain of hope inside of me, hope that maybe with her as our lead singer we can finally become a real band, hope that our first album is going to crush all kinds of records, hope that this music thing is actually going to come to fruition this time around.
“You know, this is my first time in Ventura?” Alyssa chuckles, pacing back and forth on the stage. “Seriously. Before I came to L.A., I’d never really been anywhere in my life. But now that I’m here, it’s about time that I start going everywhere, don’t you think?”
The crowd roars again, and Alyssa chuckles even louder.
“Hey, did I ever tell you guys about my complicated relationship with ‘Guys in Plaid’?” Alyssa asks the crowd, before signaling toward us to start playing the song she’d just mentioned.
“One, two, three, four!”
The concert goes so much faster than I’m expecting, the music just flowing right out of me, all on Alyssa’s cues. I’m not sure I’ve ever gotten so into a performance either, finding myself headbanging along with the crowd, my fingers flying across the piano keys in front of me. There’s just something magnetic about Alyssa, the songs she’s written with Van, even the way Rhys seems to have shaped up his guitar playing for the night probably in some attempt to impress her.
This is going to work.
And it’s all because of Alyssa Smith.
“Cameron!” Alyssa suddenly shouts as she turns back toward me. “Please tell me that you know how to play ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star’? G major?”
I nod in response, a little confused about where she was going with this.
“Good!” she laughs, before signaling for me to start playing the song. “Then go for it!”
I begin to play the notes, and Alyssa holds the mic close to her mouth, her voice coming out as low as a whisper.
♫ Twinkle, twinkle, little star ♫
♫ Shouldn’t’a let you kiss me in your car ♫
♫ You stopped picking up your phone ♫
♫ And now I’m left here all alone ♫