Wright that Got Away Page 5
“Yeah, that’s how I feel about the piano. My mom started me in lessons when I was five.”
Nora poked her head in. “What is going on in here?”
I shot her a grin. “I found the guitars.”
“Dear God,” she groaned. “I’m never going to get you out of there, am I?”
I affectionately looked down at the Strat. “I’ll come back for you later.”
“You are outrageous,” Nora grumbled. “Come move something.”
I pulled the guitar back over my head and handed it off to Weston. “Thanks for letting me try her out. I dig it.”
“What was that you were playing?”
“New song that I’m working on.”
“Thought it might be,” he said with a nod. “I think I know all of Cosmere’s chords, and it didn’t sound familiar.”
“Yeah? That’s cool,” I said. I forgot that I was a celebrity and that, yeah…someone this into music probably new my catalog. It was the sort of thing I had done with Weezer, Green Day, and Nirvana before I rose to fame. Sometimes, it was still surreal to think that my band could even exist beside those greats.
We headed out of the music room and back to grab more boxes for Nora.
“So, Julian said you got a job at a local studio in town?”
Weston nodded. “Yeah, it’s just part-time. But I figure something is better than nothing.”
The wheels were moving in my mind. “Any chance I could stop by and get some studio time in?”
Weston’s head jerked to me so fast that he was going to have a crick in his neck. His eyes were wide. He tried to play it cool after that, but he didn’t quite manage it. “Uh, yeah. I think…you know, I think anyone would want you in their studio.”
“I couldn’t use any of the recordings, but it might help me get some of these ideas out of my head.”
Weston nodded emphatically. “You let me know when, and I’ll be there.”
I laughed and reached for another box. “Sounds good.”
Already, ideas were swirling away in my mind. Studio time without the band, without my manager, without the record label breathing down my neck. It might be just what I needed to figure out what I wanted to bring to the table and where I wanted to take Cosmere.
There was only one problem.
If I was going to record “Invisible Girl,” I needed to talk to Blaire first. Fuck.
7
Blaire
Honey held up my phone. “All set. Ready when you are.”
Nate King stood at my side, looking as scrumptious as ever. He’d come back from New York City yesterday and driven straight into town. Before he’d left, we’d agreed to film this dance sequence together. It was a newer trend, where you walked down the middle of the street, performing this specific dance number. Soccer and track were more my forte, but apparently, I didn’t have to be a great dancer to do this kind of dancing. My followers didn’t seem to care. And they cared even less when a hunk was dancing next to me.
“You ready?” Nate asked with a wink.
He had on dark jeans, a gray T-shirt, and sneakers. I’d changed out of my everyday workout kit and into a complementary outfit—jean shorts, a gray crop top, and matching kicks. The company had sent us the same pair after we mentioned them on one of our videos last month.
“Sure,” I said, nodding at Honey. She was taking behind the scenes
“Here we go. I’ll count you in,” Honey said.
I turned away from Honey where she stood for behinds the scenes footage and faced the videographer we’d hired for this job. I took a deep breath and released it.
Showtime.
“Five, six, seven, eight.”
And then I couldn’t focus on anything but the choreography I’d crammed into my head the last few days. This was take six. One of us kept fucking it up and breaking down into laughter. We were going to have some amazing bloopers, but I was ready for this to be over.
The music started, and we strode forward. My arms and legs moving almost of their own accord. I skipped backward a step. Nate caught my arm, and I did this little jump-hop thing where I landed on his other side. We looked at each other, smiled, and walked back toward the camera. We’d added the look after one of our mess-up runs. Honey had thought it looked too good and we needed to add it in on purpose. She wasn’t usually wrong about these sorts of things.
“And that’s a wrap,” Honey called after we finished.
I laughed and bent forward to get air into my lungs. I could sprint through an entire soccer game, but walking toward a camera for one minute left me winded.
“That was the one,” Nate said. “Even that smile was perfect.”
He touched the side of my mouth, and I stepped backward. Yeah, I needed to talk to him.
Honey rushed over to show us the behind-the-scenes footage. We watched side by side and then agreed on the one that we were going to use. Everyone packed up, leaving me and Nate alone.
“Coffee?” I asked.
“Or…we could go back to your place,” he suggested with a wink.
I laughed softly. His thirst trap stuff hadn’t actually worked on me. It was the fact that underneath the persona, he was a real person I enjoyed being around. But sometimes, he forgot and tried to use his charm on me. I was sure he used it on anyone who was within range. It wasn’t on purpose. I just…wasn’t interested.
“Coffee,” I said instead.
He nodded, not seeming to care that it hadn’t worked. “All right. I’m down.”
We drove separately to my favorite local coffee shop, Monomyth. Luckily, it was the middle of the day in the summer, so it was relatively empty. Students normally filled all the available spaces with their laptops and notes. I ordered a dirty chai latte, and Nate got a large black coffee. Then, we took our drinks to a seat by the large window in the converted old house.
“I think this video is going to be a huge success,” he said.
“Me too.”
“While I’m here, we could do the ‘I See the Real You’ challenge.”
“Oh yeah, I was so happy for you when I saw that go viral.”
“I’ve done a few of them now because people asked. You know how it is.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “The can you do that again because I blinked?”
He laughed and nodded. “Stuff like that. But it’d be fun to do it together.” He looked me up and down. Though he’d seen me in a lot less, I still flushed at the attention. “You’d barely have to do anything for the glow-up.”
“I don’t think so,” I said, taking a sip of my drink.
“I could even film for you.”
“I don’t want to do the challenge.”
“Why not? Don’t you know the guy?”
“Which is why it’d be weird,” I told him. Though, of course, that wasn’t the reason at all. I couldn’t imagine doing any videos to Campbell’s songs. Let alone to the song written about me.
“We wouldn’t have to do a hot glow-up. You know people have taken it to a whole new level already. Some people are switching the camera to show themselves in a T. rex costume or going from, like, a slob on the couch to still a slob on the couch. Like, that’s just who they are.” He snapped his fingers. “A perfect Blaire Blush version might just show you in your workout outfits and then switching to a different color. We could do a bunch of them and change out your hats. Obviously, you already are who you are. You don’t have to change for the camera.”
“Or get naked for it,” I teased.
He grinned. “Just for me, love.”
I snorted. “Awfully full of yourself.”
“Should I not be?” he asked, leaning back in his seat and putting his hands behind his head. His giant biceps flexed, and he raised his eyebrows.
“You should be,” I agreed easily. He was attractive, and he knew it. “But Nate, I don’t think this is working.”
“What is this exactly? Because I think our followers would disagree.”
“T
he business arrangement is working out great, but I don’t think I want more than that.”
He dropped the chair back down on all fours and leaned his elbows on the table. “Strictly business?”
“Yeah. I mean, I want to stay friends. I like hanging out with you and shooting videos. I think you’re right that our followers love when we collaborate. I just don’t feel anything…more than that.”
He squeezed my hand. “Hey, no problem. It’s not like we ever defined what we were doing. I always assumed this was casual for the both of us. It worked when it worked, and if it isn’t for you, we can keep it business.”
I blew out a sigh of relief. I hadn’t thought that Nate would be upset, but I hadn’t dated all that much, and the breakups that I’d gone through were not this chill. “Good. I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”
“Blaire, you don’t have to worry about me.”
“Friends?”
“Definitely friends.”
We chatted for another hour about our videos. He kept trying to get me to do the “I See the Real You” challenge, but I had no interest whatsoever. So, we brainstormed other videos we could do together. Figured out a way for one of us to travel to the other to do them. We’d done some stitch and duet videos, but they never performed as well as when we were in the same space. So, it was worth it to make the drive.
When we finished our brainstorming session, he kissed the top of my head and let me go. I felt lighter as I drove home. Nate King was going to get an amazing girl. But it wasn’t me.
Jennifer’s car, Cornelia, was parked in the driveway when I pulled in. Piper’s Jeep was gone. She must have still been at work or with Hollin.
“Honey, I’m home,” I called to Jennifer, who was slumped over her computer at the dining room table, clicking incessantly. She was the best photographer I knew, and she spent hours editing her images to her perfectionist specifications. I was worried, one day, she’d have carpal tunnel from all the micro-clicks.
“Hey!” She met my gaze over the top of her computer.
“Get any packing done?”
She gestured to the half-filled boxes. “A little. Julian wants to hire someone, but I think it’s a huge extravagance.”
“Aren’t you behind on editing though?”
Jennifer bit her lip. “I mean…yes. I feel like I always am.”
“How far behind will you get if you pack up all your stuff on your own?”
“I did it last time.”
“Last time, you weren’t dating a Wright.”
She huffed. “That doesn’t mean anything.”
“They’re Texas royalty, Jen,” I said with a laugh. “If your boyfriend wants to make your life easier, why not let him?”
“I don’t know. I was taught the value of hard work and…all that.”
I laughed and plopped into the chair next to her. “You work hard enough on your actual job.”
“Yeah. True.” She yawned and closed her laptop. “How did the shoot go with Nate?”
“Good.”
Jennifer waited. “And?”
I glanced down at my chipped manicure. “We broke up.”
“Oh, Blaire.”
“No, it’s not sad. I mean, technically, we weren’t even official. We’d never defined our relationship. But I decided that he wasn’t the one, and I didn’t want to settle. He was cool about it. We’re still going to work together.”
“Well, that’s…good. Very grown-up of you,” she said, but I wasn’t sure if it was a compliment. “Why the change of heart?”
“No change of heart really. I’d been trying to feel something and decided it wasn’t there.”
“And it has nothing to do with Campbell salivating over you this weekend?”
My eyes widened. “He was not!”
“I thought it was obvious,” Jennifer said with a small smile.
“Ugh,” I groaned. “Not you, too.”
“You don’t have to tell me anything you aren’t comfortable with, Blaire, but I have eyes. I see the way you two look at each other.”
I blew out a harsh breath. “We knew each other in high school. That’s why anything with Campbell is a big no.”
“If you say so.”
She grinned knowingly at me and then returned to her work.
I wished it were as easy as snapping my fingers and declaring all the stuff with Campbell in my past. That I could just say it didn’t matter and we could go on that date he’d asked me out on—very clearly not joking. But there was no magic wand to wipe away our history. There was no fairy dust to make the world reshape itself around us. And going on a date with Campbell would be like asking for my heart to be ripped out of my chest and shredded.
Nate might have been the safe choice. But Campbell was absolutely the most reckless decision I could make.
8
Campbell
There was one of many problems with telling Blaire about the new song. The first being that I didn’t have her number. The one that she’d had in high school no longer worked, and I had no interest in asking Hollin for her current one. I could just imagine how that conversation would go. The last thing I wanted was for other people to know anyway. So, that was out.
I also didn’t use social media. I had accounts that my publicist sometimes updated. She wanted me to post more, to be active, but it hurt the creative process. Pretty much everything online was utterly draining. Not that I could imagine sliding into Blaire’s DMs. That felt too casual, even for us.
The one thing I did have was her email. Mostly because it was readily available on her website. I felt ridiculous, sending her an email, but besides just showing up at her house, uninvited, or waiting until I saw her in person again, I thought this might be the easiest route.
I hardly checked my own emails since they were constantly inundated with fan mail. Even though I had a personal private address that only the record label was supposed to have, it didn’t keep people from figuring it out. But it was the best that I had. So, here I was…writing Blaire an actual fucking email and hoping it reached her.
To: blaire@blaireblush.com
From: campbellsoup@cosmere.com
* * *
Subject: Don’t hate me
* * *
Blaire,
* * *
I know you don’t want to talk to me but…
Nope. That wasn’t going to work.
To: blaire@blaireblush.com
From: campbellsoup@cosmere.com
* * *
Subject: A quick request
* * *
Blaire,
* * *
It’s Campbell. I…
Yeah, she would see my email address. She wasn’t stupid. Fuck.
To: blaire@blaireblush.com
From: campbellsoup@cosmere.com
* * *
Subject: I’m a fucking idiot.
* * *
Blaire,
* * *
I’m probably the last person on the planet you want to talk to. After all, I was the douche who broke your heart. But still, won’t you be so kind as to spare me a few minutes of your time because I’m a selfish asshole?
Fucking fuck fuck. Just what I wanted typed out and sent into the ether. One tip-off to any tabloid, and I’d be fucked. I needed to get it together. This wasn’t personal. I didn’t have to make it about what had happened before. It was just meeting up to discuss something. Business, not personal.
To: blaire@blaireblush.com
From: campbellsoup@cosmere.com
* * *
Subject: Meet up
* * *
Blaire,
* * *
Can we meet up sometime this week to talk? I want to run something by you. I’m free anytime this week.
* * *
Best,
Campbell
Best. Fuck. Was I really going to sign it best? I guess I was because what else could I put there? Fuck it. Good enough.
I pressed Send.
&
nbsp; If she even looked at her emails, she wasn’t going to respond. She had made it perfectly clear last weekend that she wanted nothing to do with me. I’d actually fucking tried to stay away from her. I’d given her the space she so clearly wanted. It had just all unraveled. And with it had come back my creative process.
Now, it felt like a flood had been opened in my mind. I hadn’t written another song, but over the last couple days, there were at least snippets that I’d been able to jot down and not hate.
Sometimes, songs came to me fully formed, like “Invisible Girl” had, but most of the time, it was just a bunch of lines that became a bigger idea. I could feel all of these smaller catchy lines coalescing into something, and it was going to be great. When I found the key, it was going to shine.
And that was because of Blaire.
Not that I intended to tell her that exactly. If she hardly wanted to look at me, then she wasn’t going to want to know that one conversation with her had clicked something back into place inside me. I didn’t even know how I could explain it to anyone else, let alone her.
I swiped down to refresh my phone, not expecting anything, except more fan mail, and then there it was. A response.
I clicked on the email, momentarily stunned.
To: campbellsoup@cosmere.com
From: blaire@blaireblush.com