Chapter Thirteen - Scott

So. It was official. Scott had been friend-zoned. He’d known but hadn’t been ready to give up hope. He hadn’t exactly been helping his case when he offered to help Julianna get Blair back. He’d wanted to see her reaction, though—gauge her response so he would know if she was really that hung up on the guy.

Sure, the guy was buff, and girls probably thought he was good-looking. But what did that guy have that Scott didn’t?

A normal high school experience, that was what. From what Jules had told Scott, Blair had been on the swim team. They had worked on a school project together. She’d nearly asked him to one of the school dances but had chickened out at the last moment.

Blair was relatable.

Scott was the guy that was so out of touch with reality that girls could imagine flings with him, but not more. How could they when he himself lost track of what state he was in, and where he’d be a week later? He’d been fine with that kind of life, to be honest. All the benefits without the consequences.

But now?

He was starting to care. He was starting to want to have something beyond one night.

The problem was that Scott was beginning to have different expectations of himself—of relationships—but no one else was. They still thought of him as the player.

He knew it had been desperate, purposely leaving his pillow back at the ranch, and then hoping it wouldn’t backfire.

But if he could get Jules in a situation where she couldn’t run away like she always did, maybe he could get her to see that side of him.

The real side.

The side that hadn’t come out since he and his friends had been discovered playing rock music in his garage.

But he couldn’t do that when he was sitting sadly next to a campfire that he hadn’t even realized existed until that moment. Andy and Penny had finally got it going after trying for the better part of an hour—thanks to someone remembering they had some lighter fuel in the back of their car. Guess the guy really hadn’t known how to start a fire.

Everyone surrounding Scott was laughing and talking, goofing off, but he just stared into the flames. He wiped his palms on the sides of his pants. Could they hear the thumping of his heart against his ribcage?

He could.

His gaze found Jules, sitting on the opposite side of the fire. She wasn’t goofing off with everyone else. Like him, she sat alone. Quiet. And her gaze was on him.

Maybe people back home were right. He’d changed. And not for the better. His friends too. He wondered if it was too late to go back to who he had been—what he had been.

Scott knew what he needed.

Music.

It was the one thing that helped him anymore.

He’d spotted a guitar lying on a tree stump, and he asked if anyone minded if he borrowed it for a bit. No one answered, so Scott took the guitar back to where he’d already laid out his sleeping bag. He sat down and leaned against a fallen tree, plucking at a few strings and playing a couple of chords to see if it was in tune.

And then he sang.

It wasn’t a song that he’d recorded, or one that he’d slaved over for days and weeks, trying to find something he thought the recording studio would approve of.

It was impromptu, and it held all the grief and longing and love that had been dormant for so long, he’d forgotten they existed.

When he finished, silence sat heavy among the trees. Scott realized that everyone had stopped talking—that they were all listening. And he hadn’t noticed that sometime while he had been singing, Jules had come over and sat on the sleeping bag next to him. Her eyes were moist.

No one said anything. Like they didn’t dare to. There were no phones out this time—no cameras. Like they had all forgotten about them.

This would be the first time Scott could be accused of breaking up a party, and he realized how dumb it had been to pull out the guitar and sing, as if he were alone. Just because he needed some music therapy didn’t mean that everyone else wanted to be a part of it.

“That was incredible,” Jules said, breaking the silence. As if that were a cue, everyone slowly turned away and went back to what they were doing. The chatter rose to its original volume, though not without several backward glances.

Scott gave Jules an embarrassed smile and set the guitar back down where he’d found it. He pulled out a twenty and stuck it in between the strings as a rental fee and a thank you.

“I don’t get to play for me very often,” he said, returning to the sleeping bag. “Always what other people want me to play. Whatever is going to make money.”

“Why can’t you have both?”

He sighed. “According to the record label, it has something to do with market trends. Which I don’t fall into.”

Jules stared. “Are you kidding me? You just captivated an entire campsite. How can that not be in line with whatever these ‘market trends’ are?” She did air quotes around the last part.

Scott laughed and scooted so his and Jules’s sides were touching. He hesitated, then took her hand in his. “There’s something about the ambience of a campfire that lends emotion to music. But imagine hearing that over the radio while driving to school with your friends, or at a party. No one wants this kind of stuff.”

Jules intertwined her fingers with his and squeezed. “That’s the problem. People are afraid of feeling—of showing emotion. But you could help do something about that.” She tilted her face toward the sky and shouted, “Free us from our emotional constipation, Scott Dallenforth.” She paused, then burst out laughing. “Can you pretend I didn’t just do that?” She made a sound he thought was supposed to indicate they were rewinding time, but it sounded more like a broken robot. “Free us, Scott Dallenforth. You’re our only hope.”

Scott laughed as Jules frowned.

“You’re right. Too cliché.” She heaved a dramatic sigh. “The point is that was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever heard. Most real, too. And music like that shouldn’t be hidden just because a fat guy in a suit says it doesn’t meet market trends. The guy must be emotionally dead to not be moved by that song.”

It was cute the way she was getting all riled up, ready to take on his recording studio. Maybe he should hire her to be his manager. “My contact at the studio is actually a woman, and she hasn’t heard that song. No one has. I made it up on the spot. Don’t know if I could even play it again.”

Jules yelped. “Are you serious?” She jumped up from the sleeping bag, causing a few heads to turn, then grabbed a backpack from behind the log.

“Coming to the rescue with your toothbrush?” Scott teased.

“Not yet. My phone to record you. Though with us sharing a pillow tonight, I may need to sacrifice my toothbrush for the greater good, considering you didn’t bother bringing your own.”

“I have naturally minty breath,” Scott said, attempting to sound offended. It had exactly the effect he’d hoped for.

Jules smiled and sat back down next to him. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

“And how do you plan on doing that? I have a thing where I don’t like people smelling my breath. Makes me feel weird.” He cocked an eyebrow and gave her a crooked grin, knowing he was going into dangerous territory. Not only was he flirting, which was a sure way to scare her away, but he had subconsciously moved toward her and grabbed her hand again while doing it.

Her smile flickered. Her gaze searching.

Oh, crap.

Why couldn’t he just not flirt with a pretty girl? Why did he always jump to this stage of things, even when he knew he shouldn’t?

Scott could give a crap explanation about biology, but he knew it had nothing to do with that. At least, not in this case.

It was because Jules wasn’t just any pretty girl.

She was the only one who left him tongue-tied, searching for words. The only one who kept him up at night, his thoughts unable to settle on anything, or anyone, else. The only one who made him second-guess himself.

“You’re the only one who sees me,” Scott murmured.

He froze. He hadn’t meant to say that part out loud. Two vulnerable moments in the past ten minutes—he didn’t like this feeling. Like he was losing control.

But then Jules did something unexpected.

She smiled. It was soft, like she understood what he was trying to say—or not trying to say.

“Maybe that’s because I’m the only one you’ve allowed to see you.”

And then she kissed him. But it wasn’t like at the paintball field—impulsive.

This time, Jules took her time, placing a hand behind his neck. She pulled him in closer, and he readjusted his position, so he leaned against the fallen tree.

When their lips met, there weren’t fireworks. There was an orchestra. Every movement deliberate, and beautiful. Their lips waltzed together as her hand combed through his hair. His breath hitched. Scott had never had a kiss like this before—one that mirrored the emotions he’d expressed in his song minutes before.

A kiss that meant so much that the only way to express it was through music, because words would never be enough.

Scott didn’t know how long they sat pressed up against that tree, but when they finally pulled away, nothing in the world mattered. There was only Jules. And him. And the music they’d created together.

His breaths came ragged, and Jules seemed similarly short of breath.

“That was…” She didn’t finish, so Scott finished for her.

“Yeah.”

And then they both laughed.

“Guess sharing a pillow tonight just got a lot more awkward,” Scott said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Jules snuggled in close and leaned a head on his shoulder. “Nah. You were right about having naturally minty breath.”

He smiled and rested his head on top of hers.

Whatever was happening here—he didn’t know if it could last. But right then, he didn’t care.

Because finally, for the first time in a long time, he understood happiness.