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“Yeah. It’s a habit to bring it with me wherever I go. I may be the lead singer now, but nothing soothes me quite like playing my guitar.”
“Will you play for me?” she asks, her voice not quite timid but also not as confident as I’m used to hearing from her.
“What do you want me to play?”
She shrugs. “Anything you want.”
Getting up, I grab my guitar case and then lovingly pull my instrument from the soft red lining. When I sit back down, the guitar rests comfortably on my knees as my fingers glide over the strings, pulling the pick from the place at the top of the neck where I keep it tucked under the strings. With the pick clasped between my thumb and pointer finger, I strum a couple of chords, the sound vibrating throughout my whole body and calming me in a way that nothing else ever has.
Well, almost nothing.
Becka’s coming damn close.
“You know, when my uncle gave me this guitar, I looked at him like he was crazy. I wasn’t very good at school. I’d gotten in a few fights, mostly because it was the only way to deal with all the feelings I couldn’t name from all the shit with my mom. I didn’t think I could be good at anything but taking care of my brother. I’d gotten really good at keeping Tris alive, even when it meant stealing money from my mom’s purse before she could spend it all on her drug of the week. I always made sure he was fed, warm, and safe—or at least as safe as I could make him.
“I don’t know if my uncle realizes that he saved my life the day he placed this guitar in my hands. He gave me something that I’d never had before—an outlet, a drive, a way to work through whatever I needed to without getting anyone else involved. He gave me something I could be good at if I practiced enough. He changed the entire trajectory of my life, and I don’t really know how I can ever repay him for that.”
Becka’s soft hand lands on my arm, pulling my blurry focus from the instrument in my hands to the woman next to me.
I didn’t even realize tears had formed in the corners of my eyes, and I easily brush them away before they’re able to spill down my cheeks.
“Your uncle is proud of you, Trent. Anyone with eyes who knows your family can see that. He was proud of you in high school well before you ever got famous, and I can only imagine how proud he is of the man you’ve become.”
Doubt snakes through my gut. “I don’t know about that. I wasn’t exactly a saint when we first started hitting it big.”
“Maybe not, but it’s part of what’s made you the man you are now. It’s not always about the choices we’ve made in the past that define us, but how we let them shape the person we turn into. For what it’s worth, I’m proud to know you and call you my friend.”
My gaze connects with hers. “It’s worth a lot.” More than I could ever tell her. Her friendship is saving me in a way I didn’t even know I needed.
12
The bar is crowded with people eager and excited for us to perform. We try to do a few small local shows whenever we can, and tonight happens to be our last one before the tour starts in a couple of weeks. I peek out from the curtain, but the lights are bright and it makes it hard to see too far into the crowd. I invited Becka to the show and told her she should come hang out backstage with us, but she’s still not here and I’m feeling something I haven’t felt in a long time.
Nerves.
Not the small hit of nerves I get before every show, but a full-on gut punch which makes me feel like I’m going to puke. I already know she likes our music, but it’s different performing in front of someone you know and respect. I want to impress her.
“She still not here?” Tristan’s voice calls from behind me. I hear Kasen laugh and Miles let out a little chuckle but I don’t turn around.
Fuck those guys.
They’ve been teasing me mercilessly about Becka, even though I’ve told them we’re just friends. But they don’t believe me.
Maybe they shouldn’t.
We had a moment the other night at the beach house. I can’t describe what happened, but it felt different than what I’m used to. It felt real.
Which is why I need her to be my friend—and only my friend. The only real I get anymore is from the guys. If Becka and I dated and things didn’t work out, I’d lose her completely. She never stays friends with exes—she’s been that way since her first boyfriend. No matter how good a friend she might’ve been with a guy before they dated, once they broke up, he might as well have been dead to her.
I don’t think I could stand to lose her, not now. Not when I need her warmth and realness more than I think I’ve ever needed anything. She’s made me feel a kind of contentment I didn’t think I’d ever feel. All those nights feeling lost and alone in a sea of people fade into the background whenever I’m around Becka and see her smile, or hear her laugh, or the way she gets really serious and animated when she’s talking about something she’s passionate about.
She’s real, and genuine, and pure. And I can’t lose her.
So what if I want her to be impressed with me? That’s a totally normal feeling. I’m supposed to want to impress my friends with how kick-ass I am.
I feel Tristan, Kasen, and Miles move to my back and then see their heads pop around me to peek out of the curtain.
“What’s she look like now? It’s been fucking forever since I’ve seen her,” Kasen says.
