Jessica POV

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If she hated them, the least she could have done was send a thank you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I know it shouldn’t bother me, but it does.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Especially because I never wanted to send them to her in the first place.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I wasn’t expecting her to praise me, but the fact that she begged so hard for them and then just ignored them sort of irritates me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And she hasn’t been outside at her usual time in almost a week.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’ve wanted to text her about it so many times, but if I do, then it’ll seem as if I care what she thinks of the lyrics.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I don’t want to care.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But I can tell by how disappointed I feel that I do care.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I hate that I want her to like my lyrics. But the thought of actually having a hand in a song is a little bit exciting.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Food should be here in a little while. I’m going to get the clothes out of the dryer,” Dara says.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She opens the front door, and I perk up on the couch when I hear the familiar sound of the guitar from outside.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She closes the door behind her, and as much as I want to ignore it, I rush to my room and quietly slide out onto the patio, books in hand.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If I sink far enough into my chair, she might not notice I’m out here.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But she’s looking straight at my balcony when I step outside.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She doesn’t acknowledge me with a smile or even a nod of her head when I take my seat.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She just continues playing, and it makes me curious to see if she’s just going to pretend our conversation last week never happened.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I sort of hope so, because I’d like to pretend it never happened.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She plays the familiar songs, and it doesn’t take me long to let go of my embarrassment over the fact that she thought my lyrics were stupid.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I tried to warn her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I finish up my homework while she’s still playing, close my books and lean back, and close my eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s quiet for a minute, and then she begins playing the song I sent her lyrics for.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In the middle of the song, the guitar pauses for several seconds, but I refuse to open my eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She continues playing just as my phone vibrates with an incoming text..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yuri: You’re not singing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I glance at her, and she’s staring at me with a grin.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She looks back down at her guitar and watches her hands as she finishes the song.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then she picks up her phone and sends another text.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yuri: Do you want to know what I thought of the lyrics?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Me: No, I’m pretty positive I know what you thought. It’s been a week since I sent them to you. No worries. I told you they were stupid.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yuri: Yeah, sorry about the silence. I had to leave town for a few days. Family emergency.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I don’t know if she’s telling the truth, but the fact that she claims she’s been out of town eases my fear that she hasn’t been out on her balcony because of me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Me: Everything okay?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yuri: Yep.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Me: Good.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yuri: I’m only going to say this once, Jessica. Are you ready?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Me: Oh, God. No. I’m turning off my phone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yuri: I know where you live.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Me: Fine.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yuri: You’re incredible. Those lyrics. I can’t even describe to you how perfect they are for the song. How in the hell does that come out of you? And why can’t you see that you need to LET it come out of you? Don’t hold it in. You’re doing the world a huge disservice with your modesty. I know I agreed not to ask you for more, but that was because I really didn’t expect to get what I got from you. I need more. Give me, give me, give me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I let out a huge breath. Until this moment, I didn’t realize exactly how much her opinion mattered.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I can’t look up at her yet.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I continue to stare at my phone for much longer than it takes me to read the text.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I don’t even text her back, because I’m still relishing the compliment.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If she said she loved it, I would have accepted her opinion with relief, and I would have moved on.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But the words she just texted were like stairs stacked one on top of the other, and each compliment was like me running up each step until I reached the top of the damn world.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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