Chapter 39
Rayne
Someone, Somewhere (Acoustic Version)—Asking Alexandria
“Rayne! Where are you going?” The reproachful tone in Mae’s voice makes me pause in the middle of the hallway. I slowly turn around.
“Uh, nowhere?” I say. It sounds too much like a question as I quickly try to slip my bag behind me so she doesn’t notice it. I should have known this wouldn’t work.
“Rayne,” she says warningly, just like my mom used to when she’d come into my room in the middle of the night and catch me watching one music video after another on YouTube.
The memory hits me completely out of the blue. My heart tightens. But this time it hurts just a tiny bit less. Realizing that hurts even more.
“You’re going back to the practice building already?” Mae puts her hands on her hips, distracting me from the emotion building up inside me.
“Yes,” I admit meekly. There’s no point in lying; she’ll see right through me anyway. “I wanted to go over my choreography again.”
“You’ve been doing that nonstop since Monday. You need to take a break sometime.”
“I know, but I had an idea earlier, and I think . . .” I go silent as she shakes her head and giggles. “What is it?”
“Nothing. I’m glad you’re having so much fun. But you have to take care of yourself, okay? If you overdo it and get hurt, you won’t be able to do what you want.”
“I’ll be careful.”
“Please do. Otherwise, everything Skye is planning for your music video will be a waste, and she’s really putting her heart into it. I don’t know how she finds the time.”
“That’s a very good question.”
Over the past few days, Skye has sent the guys and me countless short clips of what she thinks our music video could look like.
Well, sort of, because my choreography will be different, of course.
But she was more concerned with the camera angles, the lighting, a thousand other details that none of us would have even thought about.
“Well, as long as she’s enjoying it,” Mae says with a shrug.
“That’s the most important thing. I’m going now. See you later, okay?”
“Want some company?”
“Thanks, but I really need to go through it alone.” I give her an apologetic smile.
“All right.” She laughs. “See you later. Or tomorrow. Don’t stay up too late.”
“I won’t,” I promise, then turn and run down the stairs.
Mae is right, I’ve probably been working a little too hard on the choreography over the last few days, but once I get started, it’s almost impossible to stop.
Every time I go through the steps again, I notice something I want to change.
Sometimes a step, a turn, or an arm movement isn’t quite right yet—not the way I want it to be.
I still want to keep working on it, even though Easton said my choreography was good and I could tell he meant it. But maybe that’s exactly why it needs to be a little better. I’m not quite sure. Either way, I can’t stop.
The air is clear and smells a little like spring as I leave the dorm and walk across campus.
It’s still cold, but not as freezing as it was a few days ago.
Most of the dorm rooms have their lights on, and I can hear bright, cheerful laughter somewhere.
I’ve almost reached the practice building when my phone vibrates in my jacket pocket.
I know before I even take it out that it’s Easton.
“What are you doing?” he asks when I answer. He sounds so excited that my heart skips a beat.
“I’m just about to go over the choreography again. Why? Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, it’s fine,” he says quickly. “I’m in the parking lot. I want to show you something. If you want to see, that is.”
“No.” I roll my eyes, even though he can’t see me. “Of course I don’t.”
“You don’t even know what it is.”
“Are you trying to talk me out of it?” I ask, my steps quickening of their own accord.
I’ve already turned and am walking in the opposite direction from the practice building, away from the dorms. “It’s a little late for that.
I’ll be right there.” I walk through the gate and spot Easton’s van.
The headlights cast bright beams of light onto the asphalt.
“I don’t want to pressure you.” I can hear the smile in his voice.
“That’s so dumb I won’t dignify it with an answer.” I reach the van and open the passenger door.
Easton hangs up and grins at me. He looks so good that I can’t breathe for a moment. Something is different today and I can’t quite put a finger on it, but he’s positively glowing, and that makes me happy.
“You answered at least,” he says as I climb into the car.
This time I don’t get a chance to reply, but that’s his fault because he pulls me in for a kiss. If I weren’t already struggling to breathe, I would be now.
“Should I ignore you next time?” I ask as we pull away from each other, breathless.
“Please don’t. I like your voice.” His eyes light up, and I really am hopelessly in love.
“Thanks.” I can’t fight the smile spreading across my face. “What do you want to show me?”
“I’ll tell you in a minute.” The engine roars to life, and Easton turns the van out of the parking lot.
“You’re mean.” I say with a pout. “First you lure me into your van, and now you kidnap me?”
“Do you want to get out?” He glances at me, and I shake my head.
“Of course not. I’m far too curious.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
“Will you at least tell me where we’re going?”
Now he’s the one shaking his head. “It’s a surprise.”
* * *
We drive to the beach. Easton tries to distract me the whole way there, asking me how my day was.
He asks whether I’ve started studying for exams yet, and is clearly going to great lengths to keep me from figuring out what he’s up to.
But I notice, because the route is somehow familiar, even though this is only the second time we’ve driven to the beach together. And because I know Easton.
He parks the car in the same spot as last time.
It’s dark, just like it was before. Except everything is different.
The sky is clear, clear enough to see the stars.
It definitely won’t start snowing tonight.
It still smells a bit like spring, especially here, because the sea always smells like summer.
That doesn’t actually make sense, but it does to me.
Easton takes my hand as we get out and walk down to the water. The sand gives way under our feet, and it’s quiet apart from the sound of the waves crashing.
“Phil sent us the songs today,” Easton says, breaking the silence between us.
I stop abruptly. “What?” I stare at him in disbelief. “Wow, already?”
“Yes.”
“You’re only telling me this now?”
He shrugs, but he seems pretty pleased with himself. “Otherwise you would have wanted me to play them for you in the car.”
“Uh, yeah! It’s a little rude that you didn’t.” I nudge him in the side.
“I know, but it’s so much nicer here.” He points to the sea in front of us. The waves are higher this time, and I can’t tell if the tide is coming in or going out. “After all, this is where we wrote the song.” He rubs his nose and suddenly looks so embarrassed that I have to laugh.
“I guess that makes sense, even if it is a little cheesy.”
“Good cheesy or stupid cheesy?”
I wrap both arms around his neck and beam at him. “Good cheesy. Actually, it’s extremely sweet.”
“That’s just how I am.”
“You are.” I brush a strand of hair from his forehead. “But please tell me you’ve listened to the songs already.”
“I have. The guys came to the store. They were too impatient.”
“Understandable. I would have been too.”
“I wanted you to be there too, but I think if I’d made them wait, Colin and Jax would have killed me. And besides . . .”
“You wanted to be a little romantic,” I tease him, stretching and kissing him on the tip of his nose.
“That too.”
“Are you happy with them?” My stomach starts to flutter with excitement. The songs are finished. They’re finished, and they have to be good. Please.
“Yes.” The single word comes out of Easton’s mouth as a sigh of relief. “They’re absolutely amazing. They don’t sound like us at all. Well, they do, but the recordings turned out so well, the whole thing is pretty surreal.”
“The songs are good. You guys are good. And that’s why every single song sounds like you.” I kiss him again. I can’t help it.
“Do you really not mind that we already listened? I wanted to wait for you and I figured you wouldn’t mind, but—”
He stops when I put my hand over his mouth. “Easton, this is your thing, not mine. You guys wrote and recorded these songs. You’re the band.”
He breathes a sigh of relief, and I realize that he was probably a little unsure. “Okay.”
“It’s really okay,” I reassure him.
He pulls his headphones out of his pocket, opens the case, and hands them to me. “Ready?”
I put the buds into my ears and nod. “Go.”
For a couple of seconds there’s complete silence, then he pulls his phone out of his pocket, and the first notes of our song begin to play. Soft but somehow stormy. Between Easton’s voice, our words, and the guys’ instruments, the song is everything, everything I could have imagined.
The lyrics feel familiar, but somehow new.
Even though it’s not the first time I’ve heard Easton sing our song, this is different.
It does something to me. I can only look at him while I hear his voice in my ears.
His words and mine, our thoughts. Darkness and fear, hope, courage, and everything in between. This song is as much us as it can be.
I won’t turn back
I won’t give up
I’ll make it fucking right
Get lost in music
Lost in you
And dance with you ’til midnight
Tears well up in my eyes and I can’t hold them back. My head hurts because I suddenly remember that Dad will never hear this song. He would have loved it, I know that. He would have loved that I wrote it with Easton.
I know you can do it, little Bird. Believe in yourself. You were born to make music.
I’d blocked out the memory of him saying that, the morning before the accident.
A few hours before he left with Mom to go to that party.
I sat in my room, countless pieces of paper and dozens of pens scattered around me on the floor, trying to take what was going on in my head and put it down on paper.
I was frustrated and angry at myself, convinced that I would never, ever be able to write a song that was really good.
And now here I am, and I’ve done it. With Easton. This song is truly everything, and that’s exactly what I want. I want to put my thoughts and feelings down on paper, shape them into words and verses that come together to create something whole.
It’s exactly what I’ve always wanted. I just forgot along the way, or I didn’t let myself remember.
I suppressed my desire to write. But now I can’t do that anymore.
Easton reaches out to me, gently wiping the tears off my cheeks.
He knows what’s going on inside my head, even without me saying it.
The song fades away, and I give the earbuds back to Easton.
“It’s so, so beautiful,” I say, my voice choked. “Honestly, I didn’t think it would be this good. I mean, I did, but this is—”
“Everything,” he says, finishing my sentence. Yes, he definitely knows what’s going on in my head.
“I wish my dad could hear it.”
“Me too. He’d be so proud of you.”
“Yes.” I try to swallow the lump in my throat and fail. I sigh. “He would have been.”
Easton pulls me close, his lips brushing my temple. We stand there for a while, his arms wrapped around me, my face buried in his jacket. Then I lift my head.
“When we shoot the music video . . .” I begin.
I’m captivated by his gaze, and for a moment I think I see the stars reflected in his eyes, but that’s impossible.
I want to believe it, though, because somewhere up there is the star that Mom and Dad gave me.
That makes me feel a little like they’re still here, as long as I can see it.
“What?” Easton whispers softly, his breath brushing against my skin.
“Will you dance with me? It’s our song, right? Then let it be our dance. Please.”
I need him to say yes because he has to know that it’s all or nothing.
Dancing with him on Monday felt so right.
Besides, it was fun, and maybe that’s exactly how it should be.
Maybe that’s all dancing needs to be for me.
Something I do because it brings me joy.
Not necessarily something I want to spend every day of my life doing.
Could it be that simple?
I have no idea, but I don’t have to decide right now.
Easton smiles and nods, and for the first time in months, for the first time since that night that changed everything, I believe that someday I might be totally happy again.
And that being happy would be okay.