Page 35 of Now Their Starlet

“Dude, you have the same one for all of your accounts,” Ezra shrugs. “Wasn’t hard. Made sure to download everything on my own personal wifi so that Stuart doesn’t see a new device connect to the wifi here. Let me know if you want new books and I can get them for you, but you’ve got like, hundreds so I think you should be fine for a while, right?”

“Thank you,” I say, my voice tight as I blink up at him. “I’ve been so fucking bored, you have no idea.”

“Sure, it’s nothing.” He averts his gaze from mine, staring down at the floor between us.

It’s a really sweet gift. Honestly, I think it’s in the top five of the sweetest gifts he’s given me throughout the time we’ve known each other, including our relationship. He was never that big of a gift-giver back then. Most of the time, we just did things together. At first, it was nice, but towards the end of our relationship, the only things we’d do together would be for him.

“That’s... not all.”

“You have more?” I blink at him. I probably look like an owl with how big my eyes must look.

“Yeah, I’ve gotta show you something.”

I nod mutely, trying to wrap my head around Ezra of all people practically showering me with gifts. Sure, his gifts range in consideration from the bottom of the totem pole with chalky protein bars I know he just had lying around to something as considerate as the Kindle with my entire library pre-downloaded, but that only makes the whiplash of the situation worse.

“So is this another gift-gift or are you just showing me something?” I say, taking another bite of the protein bar.

“The actual gift has to do with what I’m gonna show you,” he says, pulling his phone out. He hands me his earbuds, which I pop into my ears, before he presses play and hands the phone over to me.

My breath hitches in my throat when I hear the first hint of a building synth.

I know this song.

The song playing through Ezra’s earbuds is the demo of the song Beck played for me in the studio, the day I first met Everett.

It has a title now, it seems, according to the music video playing on the phone screen in front of me.

Drowning (I’m coming for you, please wait for me)

It’s a style of song titles that’s been popular in the industry for a little bit, but I can’t help but feel like the part in the parentheses is a message for me.

That thought solidifies the moment the music video starts playing. It’s built up of cinematic shots of the field we stargazed in together. Shots I helped Cameron film.

They don’t show any of our faces, just the grass and the treeline before panning up to the sky as the synths in the beginning of the song build.

And then there Beck is. Sparkling, diamond-like eyes and effortlessly tousled hair.

The camera pans, and my breath catches in my throat. Whatever camera they used to film this is fancy as hell, because I can see every single detail in my dad’s backyard, clear as day.

My mind reels as Beck’s voice fills my ears. The music video is of Beck playing the song live, building up layers with the beat pad and the looper pedal at his feet. The electric guitar he plays is dreamy, adding a layer of sound that echoes with the hint of a touch because of the amp it’s connected to.

This live version is worlds better than the demo. Because I can practically feel the emotion in Beck’s voice. There’s a separation there, almost like he’s begging as he clings to his guitar, his eyes shut and the cords of his neck sticking out as he sings.

They say the last thing you should do when you see someone drowning

Is help them

But how can I not

When I look at you

Even though I’m drowning too

The familiar lyrics sink deep into my bones.

And then the bridge hits. He’s changed the lyrics.

I’m coming for you. I’m coming for you.