My fingers flew across the strings. A new melody unfolded. I had my notebook beside me and scribbled down words and phrases, erasing and rearranging them until I could sing the whole chorus.

The fence shuddered and I knew he was there too. Whether it was all in my head or not, I could feel his back against mine, the heat of his body, and the thumping of his heart. A new rhythm took over and the words poured out of me, flowing over the notepad and out my fingertips.

I stopped to scribble down a whole verse, pinning the guitar against my side and the fence and using my thigh as a makeshift desk. Singing other people’s words spurred my own thoughts and opened up avenues that had once been dark and blocked off.

“Don’t stop now, Bay.”

The way he said my name, I couldn’t move from this spot. My body swayed with the fence when a weight was added from the other side.

“Any requests?” My voice was whisper quiet.

“Play the one you played the first night you sat down.”

A simple enough request. But I couldn’t choke out the words.

“I forgot it.”

“You forgot it? It went like this.” He hummed the melody back to me.

Whether because he remembered it or the smooth cadence of his voice, my heart and stomach were in a tug-of-war for which was about to be ejected from my body first.

I swallowed, my throat coffee-straw tight. “I’ll try to remember it. The bonfire’s going on right now.” I dropped my head against the fence. It shuddered gently.

“I know.”

Fighting the face palm, I searched for something more to say. Of course he knew.

“Shouldn’t you be out partying in the woods with everyone else or something?”

“More like ‘or something.’ I’d rather not drive out to the woods where drunk people fuck with my car. I usually only go because Knox needs me to keep him out of trouble.”

“Is he going to shave half his head and dye the other half blue again?” Knox was hard to miss. He was Dare’s wingman, never too far away. He had a nose that looked like it had been a casualty of a bad tackle, but he’d preferred to leave it that way instead of getting it fixed. His rough-and-tumble had smooth, polished edges, unlike Dare’s, which were ragged and cutting.

“You remember that?”

“He doesn’t exactly blend in.”

“With the blue hair, he would’ve. Half the school did it.”

“You didn’t.”

“Blue isn’t my color.”

I laughed. Dare’s dry humor surprised me. “I’m sure you could wear anything you want.”

The fence shifted like the compliment made him uncomfortable. “Why aren’t you at the bonfire?”

“It’s not my scene.” I brushed my fingers over the strings. The metal was cold after only a few minutes. Was this damaging my dad’s guitar? The cold might be shocking the wood, maybe warping it. I looked to the back steps and chewed on my lip.