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Oh, what a feeling, I’m on this ride
She’s the prettiest thing I ever did see
What the hell does she want with a guy like me?
Red in the face, shy as can be
Maybe she’ll want to run away with me
Oh, Scarlett, my Scarlett
You’re a beautiful thing
Oh, Scarlett, my Scarlett
Will you make my wishes come true?
Oh, Scarlett, my Scarlett
I just want to be with you
The crowd is clapping and cheering the moment I stop singing, and I wonder if Scarlett could even hear my ass when she leaps from her seat and practically runs through the restaurant, heading toward the exit doors. She’s outside in an instant, her steps slowing when she draws closer, her expression vaguely confused.
“Did you just sing me another song?” she asks.
Damn it, I knew she didn’t hear me.
“You didn’t hear it?”
“Not really,” she admits, her expression turning shy. “But I want to.”
Her friend stops just behind her, a cheesy grin on her face. “Sing it again, Tate! The restaurant was too loud for us to hear you.”
I launch into the song once more, knowing that it’s not the best, lyrics-wise, but I busted it out in a matter of minutes per Simon and Roger’s suggestion. An addition to the “Red” song, in celebration of it breaking the top ten on its debut.
“Go sing to her,” Roger said. “Like you did for your little girlfriend back in the day. Remember how you used to do that?”
Yeah, I definitely remember. Can’t believe they actually made me recreate the moment I wrote a song for my ex-girlfriend when we were first in Five Car Pileup. That was a song I only sang a handful of times, eventually becoming too embarrassed by the simple lyrics. Yet the moment is forever captured on film thanks to the reality show I was on.
The song was called “Jess, You Make Me a Mess.”
Talk about foreshadowing, goddamn.
My gaze never strays from Scarlett’s as I continue to sing, hoping she can understand what I’m really trying to tell her.
That this is a complete publicity stunt. They made me do this. The words to this lame-ass song mean nothing. We’re just trying to keep the interest on social media going.Please don’t think I’m a cheesy asshole.
Scarlett’s lips curl up when I get to the “Oh, Scarlett, my Scarlett” line, and I stumble over the strings of my guitar, making them twang out of tune. I find my rhythm again; it’s a quick mishap, but she notices, her eyes sparkling, her body subtly moving to the music.
I could never admit to her it was the glow in her gaze that threw me off. The faint smile curling her lips. That beautiful face of hers. It’s like she’s actually enjoying the song, buying into the entire moment and falling for it.
Falling forme.
The song ends with me drawing out the last word, and I strum the guitar before clamping my hand on the strings, making the song stop. There’s actual silence in the air. I don’t even hear a car horn honk or the nonstop drone of a siren like usual. These last few seconds feel downright...
Magical.
And then the entire crowd erupts into applause. There’s clapping and screaming and whistling. Scarlett’s face turns the prettiest shade of pink, and her friend Rachel grabs her shoulders from behind, giving her the lightest shake.
