“So I think I have the final song.” Rhyson starts tapping the iPad in front of him until the first strains of the track fill the conference room. A song I never meant anyone to hear.
“Oh, not that one.” I go into the shared folder, searching frantically for the file he’s playing so I can shut it down. “Rhys, not that one. Let’s not—”
“This one is the best option.” Rhyson tilts his head, a look of consternation on his face. “Can we just hear it?”
I don’t have to hear it. I know every word.
I fell for her before the beat dropped.
Between the verses and
After rehearsal and
In sixteen bars I was intoxicated
After sixteen bars, me and her was faded
Had our first kiss on a Ferris wheel
We was on top of the world.
I’m on top of the world
(When I love her)
Top of the World
(When I hate her)
Top of the world
(When I take her or leave her)
With her I’m on the top of the world
I roll her up tight in my blunt paper
Inhale her like smoke, in my lungs she’s a vapor
‘Cause she always on the run
Making me hunt, making me chase
Making me run like it’s a race
Making me work like it’s my job
Even when she bottom she come out on top
She be on top of the world
I’m on top of the world
(When I love her)
Top of the World
(When I hate her)
Top of the world
(When I take her or leave her)
With her I’m on the top of the world
At the last note, Max starts a slow clap. Everyone around the table joins him. Everyone except Bristol, who stares blankly at the shiny conference room table.
Shit.
“I love it,” Max says. “Rhyson, you’re right. That’s it. Man, the lyrics are so clever. It’s infectious. Now that’s a hit.”
“And what’s the song you’re sampling?” Sarah asks. “Was it Prince?”
“Uh, yeah.” I clear my throat. “’I Wanna Be Your Lover.’”
“As soon as I heard it,” Rhyson says. “I knew it was the one. Maybe we should take this one to the wide release, too? Bristol, we should see—”
“If we’re done,” Bristol says abruptly, cutting off Rhyson’s suggestion. “I need to get back to my office.”
It goes quiet, and everyone stares at her, but she doesn’t stop. She grabs her phone and walks quickly toward the door.
“Sarah,” she tosses over her shoulder. “Could you go over that last item on the agenda?”
“Um, okay.” Sarah’s wide eyes scan the agenda Bristol left. “Here we are. Bristol wants to—”
“I gotta go, too.” I push back my chair and stand. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
Before anyone can stop me or ask questions, I’m out the door and racing up the hall to catch her before she leaves. I round the corner and come to a halt. Bristol leans against the wall, head down. I approach slowly, cautiously, like she’ll run off if I startle her.
“Bris,” I say softly once I’m right in front of her.
She stiffens, raising her lashes to reveal the accusation of her eyes.
“How could you?” she asks, her whisper knife-sharp.
“It was just for me.” I grab the end of the braid hanging over her shoulder. “No one else was supposed—”
“But the song’s about us.” She jerks back, freeing her hair from my fingers. “About me. How dare you?”
“How dare I?”
Now I’m pissed.
“Those are my thoughts. My ideas. My music, Bristol. No one dictates how I express myself. Not even you.”
“Even when those thoughts and ideas are about me?” She presses her eyes closed and flattens her palm to her forehead. “What happened then was private, and you’ve put us on display for anyone shopping at Target.”
“I didn’t mean to. I’d forgotten about that track until Rhyson started playing it.” I squat until I’m eye level with her, even though she still doesn’t look at me. I lift her chin until she has to. “It was for me, not anyone else. Music, writing—it’s how I process what I’m feeling. Always has been. You know that. That’s how I was feeling, what I was thinking, and I needed to get it out.”
“How you were feeling.” Now that she’s looking at me, she isn’t looking away, and her eyes sear me even before her words do. “You hate me? In the lyrics, you said when I hate her. That’s how you feel?”
There’s startled hurt in her eyes, but I won’t lie to her.
“Maybe that day, that moment.” I shake my head. “But no. I don’t hate you. How you make me feel? I hate that sometimes.”
“How do I make you feel?”
Alive. Tortured. Exhilarated. Hungry.
“Confused,” I say instead. “Frustrated.”
“What’s so confusing about no?” She glances down at the shiny hardwood floor at our feet. “I’ve been telling you no for years. I mean it.”
“What’s confusing is that no matter what you say, I know what you feel.”
“And you know this how?” She looks up, one imperious brow lifted. “A few kisses on the roof one night when I was high?”
All those walls are firmly erected. No gaps. No cracks. We’re back at square one. Judging by the indifferent look on her face, we might even be pre-square one. Have I been fooling myself all these years?
But despite what my eyes tell me, my gut says she has no idea what to do with the way I make her feel. All my instincts tell me Bristol wants me, and fuck if I understand why she won’t give us a chance. Maybe she suspects what I know for sure. If I ever get her, no way in hell I’m letting her go. That gap last night showed me what’s behind that wall, and I want all of it.
She lures me closer without trying. Her scent, her warmth, her softness, her toughness entices me to lean into her. The feeling of last night, the want, rushes through me again. My hands find her waist, and I imprint my shape into hers against the wall.
“Grip, no.” Her breath shivers over her lips, and she turns her head away from me.
“Why not?” I run my nose up and down her neck until she shudders under me. Her body is honest with me even when she hides the truth. I want her truth. I have to know.
She wriggles free, stepping away and pacing a tight circuit in the corridor.
“Bristol, about last night—”
“The other song, ‘Bruise,’” she cuts in, stopping her pacing to face me. “It’s fantastic.”
Not-so-deft change of topic. I’m not sure if it was because she was genuinely interested in the song or afraid of what I would say next.
“Thank you.” I slip a fist into my pocket and lean against the wall to watch her
“And your cousin Chaz who was shot by his brother, the cop.” Her eyes fall to my left forearm where Chaz’s name is inked into the skin. “They’re Jade’s brothers?”
“Yeah.”
“I can’t imagine what you described. When I think about that happening, you getting stopped like that over and over again . . .”
Bristol bites into her bottom lip. She turns her head to stare at me, sadness saturating her eyes.
“Can you just tell me when all my privilege makes me clueless?”
Damn her. Every time I think I might be able to get past this girl, move on to someone who will actually tell me how she feels, she does this. Shows the tender under all that tough and reminds me why not one day has gone by in eight years when she hasn’t at least crossed my mind.
“I can do that,” I promise quietly.
“Good, I—”
“There you are. I was looking for you guys.” Rhyson strides down the hall toward us. “You both bailed on the meeting. What gives?”
“Sorry. You’re right,” Bristol says, eyes cool again when she looks at me. “I have too much to do to be standing around. Gotta go. Grip, I’ll email you about the Target spot. Should be later this week.”