Her fingers moved across the strings with dropped notes and squealed from the metal on metal.

My hands itched for my sketch pad. It never left my room, always locked up in my drawer. But right now, I wanted a life-sized canvas to capture this moment. As I basked in the afterglow of her holding the last note and throwing on a little vibrato on the last string pluck, the need to hear her original song burned even deeper in me.

I wanted to hear her words. Know her feelings. Know her heart.

Suddenly, the thing I’d been searching for was sitting beside me, the girl next door. That scared the shit out of me. So much to lose. So much to screw up.

I jumped up from the couch.

Bay’s smile faltered and her expression dulled before going blank.

“I need to go. I’m supposed to meet Knox in a bit and it slipped my mind.”

She stood and she nodded before turning her face away and sticking the guitar back in the case. “Right. Well, thanks for helping me with my bike. You don’t have to fix it. I can fix it.”

I backed up, racking the back of my calf on the coffee table and almost toppling over.

Her hand shot out to steady me. The barest scrape against my skin sent a jolt ricocheting down my arm.

I vaulted over the table to avoid her touch. “No, I can fix it. I’ll get it back to you by seven am. Maybe drop it off later or early tomorrow morning.”

She curled her fingers back and tucked her hands under her arms.

I was messing this up, but she was too much. In this quiet house, she was ripping me open with a damn pop song. I needed to get outside so I could breathe. Bursting through the front door, I raced down the path to the driveway.

“Okay. See you later.” The question in her voice was a lance to my side. She peered out the screen door.

I ran to my car, throwing myself inside like I’d stolen something. Without looking up, I peeled out of the driveway, my heart jammed up against my ribs and I took the long way to my house.

Sitting in the driveway, I slammed my hand against the steering wheel before dropping my head to the smooth, hard surface.

This whole time I’d been trying to get her to open up to me. I’d been nudging and prodding, getting in her space to hear the song again and get to know her. The second she shared a piece of herself with me by showing me her dad’s guitar and singing, actually singing for me, I rushed out of there leaving her confused and hurt.

Why was I such a screw up? Why did Bay make it impossible for me to act like anything other than an idiot?

“Fuck!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, hoping my voice didn’t travel far enough for her to hear, muzzled by the interior of my car.