Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88218 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88218 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
He sings the opening verse, and I join in harmonies at the right spots. I don’t take my eyes off him. He’s concentrating on the guitar, but then when he sings about needing more than words, he looks up at me, and our gazes lock.
In my peripheral, I see a producer bring the other contestants to gather behind the cameras so they can witness this also. This will probably go viral once it airs.
We’re in sync. We sound amazing, if I do say myself, but the words cut deep.
It makes me realize saying sorry to Mason will never be enough after what I did to him. I shouldn’t have let my embarrassment and confusion get to me the way it did. I neglected him when he really needed me.
Sorry will never be enough.
Maybe a big fat check from the show will help, but I still need to give him more.
I want to give him everything. I just don’t know how to go about it without getting heartbroken again when he ultimately only wants to be friends.
Chapter Fourteen
Mason
I’m starting to think the universe is playing a sick joke on me. Either that or the producers for this show are choosing songs for their contestants to purposefully hit me in the gut.
From “Jealous” to “More Than Words,” all I can say is thank fuck the other three are singing Tracy Chapman, Coldplay, and ironically James Blunt, which is being performed by the guy who doesn’t look like him. Go figure.
Yesterday when Isla was trying to sing “More Than Words,” it didn’t hit me the way it did today, and that’s because of one glaring difference: I wasn’t performing it or looking into Denver’s eyes while words about love were floating around the room.
While singing, all I could think about was the number of times the lyrics to that song have applied to Denver and me. It’s no secret between us that we love each other. I’ve never questioned it. What I’m trying to understand now is if those actions ever meant more than platonic love.
Did I lead him on? Am I being an oblivious dumbass here?
“Tomorrow’s your actual performance,” Denver says to everyone around the dinner table while I’m still stuck on my almost revelation.
It’s been gnawing at me since last night when for the first time in years I’ve been that close to Denver, and my body reacted in a way it never has to him before.
Denver continues. “I want you all to know that no matter what happens tomorrow, you’re all talented and have the potential to make it if you work hard enough.”
“Have they told you how many of us are going to the live performances in the studio?” Declan asks—the James Blunt lookalike.
I hate to say it, but I don’t think he’ll be one of them. He’s talented, but he’s missing that oomph. That … spark.
My gaze travels to Denver. Performing with him today set my body on fire, and there was that definite spark. But the song made me question everything. Every motive, everything I’ve ever done for Denver, and everything I get from making him happy.
Instead of explaining it all away like I usually would, I saw it for what it actually was.
We’re connected.
I don’t know when that formed.
The hurt he left behind when he walked out of my life was so intense, I know I’ve never felt that way about anyone else before. It hurt less losing my fiancée than it did losing Denver.
And I’ve been blind this whole time. Friends come and go—especially in this industry—but what we have? I understand all the confusion he went through years ago because I can recognize it in myself right now. There’s this emotional attachment I don’t want to lose, but physically …
We’ve always had a certain level of affection that’s probably more than the average friend, but thinking back to when we kissed … if it were to happen again, maybe I wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss it.
Reggie turns to me. “I know this is, umm, probably crossing a line and everything, but, uh, I’ve been wanting to ask, and uh, we leave tomorrow after filming, so I’ll never get this chance again—”
“Ask it.” That’s a risk. This could be anything. From asking who my fiancée cheated with—I know better than to rat out another famous person, so I would never answer in fear of starting a Twitter war—to why I ran away from Hollywood. I’ll have no problem answering that one.
“What went wrong with your solo album? It had some great songs.”
Ouch. Okay, that stings a little, but it’s fair.
Denver eyes me across the table, and it’s as if I can read his mind. I can get you out of this. Just say the word.
I take a sip of my water and give everyone at the table a valuable lesson. “When Eleven split, I was determined to have my own sound. I got a whole new team. A new manager, producers, assistants, songwriters. I told them, ‘This is what I want,’ and they happily complied. That’s where I messed up.”