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“I know you think, I just meant to ask you…” I let out a sharp exhale. “Could you maybe help me find a bodyguard? I don’t know where to find them.” I couldn’t bring myself to ask him to supply me with one. I didn’t want him doing anything for me—even if he was the reason for it all.
“Of course,” he said, his voice losing humor. “I’ll have one sent over to the school today. Does that work? Or do you need one sooner? I can come if there’s something wrong. Is someone harassing you?” His voice gained a startling edge.
“No, no one is harassing me.”
“Good, I’m the only one allowed to do that. I’ll send a bodyguard over—and he can bring you to my house tonight. We need to talk about some things.”
“Okay,” I said with a sigh. Great.
30
JACKSON
“So I think the verse should start like this.” Tyson cleared his throat, messing around on the piano. “ When I saw you, I just knew, that there was going to be something there.”
I groaned. “That sounds fucking ridiculous. We don’t write this kind of shit. That sounds like something that should be played on pop radio or something.”
“I think it’s good,” Aaron commented, messing around on one of the guitars. “I think there can be something heavy in the mystery that comes with love.”
“You must’ve smoked weed before you showed up,” I snapped at him, holding my guitar in my lap. “I just don’t think we’re the kind of band that writes shit like this. I know they want us to put out a love-themed album, but there’s got to be a way to add more grit.”
“Okay, so what do you have then?” Tyson stopped playing, folding his arms across his chest.
“I don’t have anything at all. You know that. You know that I don’t do love.”
“Okay, then I guess we’ll just fucking circle back to what Genna was saying this morning. Hypothetically, what would you do if you were in love.”
“I would jump off a cliff,” I laughed, shaking my head and tearing into a riff on my guitar. “And it would be fucking great, letting the water swallow me right up.”
“Okay, well that’s great, but not for this album.” Nel facepalmed. “Come on, we’ve all been in love or thought we were at some point. You gotta dig deep, Jackson. If you’re scared of love, write about that. Write about losing someone you love, or the pain that comes from it.”
“Yeah, I bet we could put that at the end of the album,” Tyson added, running his fingers through the scruffy beard he’d recently started growing. “It could be like the alternate side—bonus track.”
“Can I play on that?” I asked him, nodding to the piano.
“Sure.” He shrugged, switching me places. “Are you going to write something? Or just fuck around?”
“I write things by fucking around,” I chuckled, starting to play a riff—and then without even thinking, I started playing the song that Lena wrote.
Everyone went silent, listening as I worked my way through it.
“Whoa, what’s that?” Tyson asked, his eyes wide. “That’s something else.”
I nodded. “Lena wrote it. I heard her play it when I went to her classroom, and then she played it again at my place. It’s been stuck in my head ever since.”
“Does it have lyrics?”
I shook my head. “Not yet. She’s got a killer melody for it, but she hasn’t put any lyrics to it.”
Aaron perked up. “We should use it and credit her.”
“No fucking way,” I snapped, growing defensive. “It’s her song. I don’t want to take it from her. If anything, she should get to sing the whole thing.”
“Yeah, so feature her,” Tyson urged. “Talk about the epitome of a love album. The two of you sound so good together.”
“Then when we break up, it’ll be a reminder,” I grunted, my heart actually dropping in my chest. It was startling. It didn’t belong. I shouldn’t be sad just thinking about when Lena and I would end our fake relationship. I bit down on my lip, drifting from the song that Lena wrote to something else.
“That’s good.” Tyson listened closer, picking up the progression on his guitar. “I like the way this is going.”
