My songbook keeps me company wherever I go—an important lesson I learned years ago after inspiration struck and I realized I'd left it at home. It’s like a spontaneous orgasm. An idea can come at any time, and my songbook is my condom, catching my word babies as they fall. I’ve had this particular book for only a few months now, but that’s because I fill them quickly. I have stacks of them in my storage unit back in Seattle.

As my feet soak in the warm pool water and my songbook rests beside me, I’m overcome with inspiration. I knew I would be. San Diego is a beautiful place filled with beautiful people, and I see stories everywhere I’m aching to write.

It’s been a few days since I’ve gone there. To that place in the deep, dark part of my mind where emotions and words collide, sparking honesty and vulnerability. My songbook is my private place—my only place—to unleash these emotions. Because of that, it’s safe to say this is my addiction. My obsession.

A shriek and giggle—a shriggle—fills the air, turning my attention to the couple at the other end of the pool. There he is. My new boss, the rock god himself, threatening to toss a cute and entirely too willing victim into the deep end of the pool. My stomach rolls. I don't want to watch, but I'm unable to take my eyes from the scene. Such noncommittal happiness. It’s not like they’re doing anything inappropriate. He’s not even groping her yet, but it’s a painful reminder of what I left in Seattle. Tony and Joanna. Fucking assholes. Despite their betrayal, I can admit that they happen to be perfect together.

Joanna had been my best and only friend since I moved in with my mom. I asked her to tour with me and even found her a job on the road so she had a good excuse to take a break from college. As it turns out, I am shit at choosing friends. I had been dating Tony for two years when Joanna decided to jump into an affair with him.

To make things worse, I hadn’t even considered that Tony would be capable of cheating on me. Bad boy rocker and all, I thought our connection was mutual. We’re both cut from the same cloth. Born into the industry. Emotionally detached, but not in ways that make us cold. We’re just both able to separate emotion from all the other bullshit going on.

At times, our relationship felt more like a business transaction than anything else. There was a friendship there, and he made my heart beat fast in the beginning, but over time, he only wanted me around when it would look good for him. He got too busy and too big for our relationship. It wasn’t about us anymore, it was about the music. But the sex was good. I guess. I’ve never been the easily stimulated type, but he could still get me to climax some of the time.

Whatever. In the end, he followed his heart—or dick—even though it meant damaging mine. My heart, that is.

I stare across the pool and shake my head as Wolf wraps his arms around the girl’s slick body. At least I’m not the only one with issues. That bad boy might just be worse off than I am. At least I’ve made the decision to abstain from sex until I figure my shit out. Wolf doesn’t date. At all. And it sounds like he’s perfectly content hopping from one girl to the next. His heart is destructive. Dangerous. The last thing I need. Like Tony. Like Joanna. Fuck all of them.

A tingle races up my spine as an idea strikes. My hands fly to my songbook and the words splatter onto the page. I can barely write fast enough to keep up with the lyrics racing through my mind.

 

Two wrongs don’t mend hearts like ours

Two wrongs can never break our fall

I give, you take, it’s no mistake

We’re in too deep, losing sleep

Trying to forget what started it all

 

Angry eyes and a brick wall armor

Lessons learned, paths paved

Shield unyielding, it’s a heavy weight

One you’ll never penetrate

It’s hopeless, no use trying to be saved

 

You ruined us from the start

Your soul is black, your heart is dark

You tear me up like it’s an art

Stay away with your dangerous heart

 

Can’t rely on second chances

Since the first one ripped my heart apart

You’re not welcome here anymore

’Cause there’s no going back to the start

 

By the time I’m done, my heart is racing and my palms are sweating. That was probably the most therapeutic thing I’ve done since the breakup. It feels damn good. I’ve never written a complete song that fast in my life—not that it’s perfect. What first draft is? In my opinion, even final drafts aren’t really final. How can they be when every moment of every day, we’re learning new things and taking on new adventures? Stories change, just as we do.

I stare at the words on the page in front of me. No matter how healing they may have been, I’m not sure they’re words I want to hold on to. Tony was a mistake. One that I don’t want to remember. One who doesn’t deserve my words. Which is fine. Not every written piece is meant to be saved.

Slowly, I rip the page from my songbook, cringing at the tear line I’m creating. Who knew trashing something so personal would feel so painful. When the page is torn completely, I take a deep breath and walk it over to the nearest trash can, which is already exploding with waste. Without another thought, I add my lyrics to the pile because whatever heartache I feel over Tony is just that—waste.

The quiet night is startling when I finally come out of my songwriting haze. I hadn’t noticed Wolf and his lady friend taking off at some point during my writing spell, but the shriggles are gone and I’m alone by the pool. Daylight is fading and my stomach is going crazy with hunger, so I pack my things and head inside. Without bothering to change, I sit at one of the hotel bars to order dinner and a glass of wine.

When the bartender slides my first glass in front of me, I reach for it eagerly.

A throat clears behind me and I freeze, the glass nearly to my mouth. “A pretty woman should never eat or drink alone. I’d offer you company but I wouldn’t want your head to grow larger than it already is.”

The teasing voice should be grating, but it’s familiar and warm, and it is nice to not be alone for a moment. Wolf slips onto the stool beside me.

“Ha, ha.” I face him with a smirk. My eyes have a mind of their own as they flicker between his face and over his shoulder, expecting to see the woman from the pool with him. There’s no one there. The speed at which Wolf moves through women is impressive and disturbing.

“You can join me if you’d like,” I say despite my better judgment. “I promise I won’t assume you’re crossing an arbitrary line.”

He settles in without hesitation and steals my menu. “Sounds good.”

A deep breath later, I force myself to apologize. “I’m sorry for getting the wrong idea the other day. I just got out of something, and it messed with my head a bit.” I don’t want to give him more than that. He probably doesn’t want to hear it anyway, and it’s not an easy conversation to have, especially with someone who reminds me of the problem.

He doesn’t respond. I’m sure I just made things way too awkward.

“Weren’t you with someone earlier?” I ask. Because that’s not awkward.

He peers up at me with a tilt of his lips. “If you’re referring to my sister, she has a thing against driving at night, so she already took off.”

Oh. There’s an unwelcome flutter in my chest. “You amaze me,” I say before taking a sip of my wine.

This gets his attention. He turns his body toward me. “Please continue.”

I chuckle. “You’re a big, bad rocker with girls who follow you into elevators and trample you after every concert, yet you’re here alone, you declined an offer to party the other night, and, according to you, you haven’t hit on me once. Either I’m losing my touch, or you are.”

He throws back his head and laughs. It’s nice and throaty, making me wish I could take back my frustrations with the male species and shove my tongue down his throat.

“First of all, I’m only refraining from flirting with you because you laid down the law the moment we met. But don’t let your head inflate. My natural instinct is to flirt. It’s what I do, whether you’re my type or not. Second, I’m not alone. I’m with you. Which means you’re not alone, either.”

I let his words settle in before changing the subject. “Were you born in San Diego?”

“Born, bred, and raised.”

“And you’re staying in a hotel?”

His response is a shrug. That’s strange.

It’s his turn to change the subject. “Where are you from?”

“All over. Most recently, Seattle.”

He sets the menu down and orders a whiskey water from our bartender before continuing. “My second favorite place in the U.S. Seattle kicks ass.”

“Agreed.”

“So then why are you touring? There are plenty of music jobs where you’re from.”

Coming from a musician, his question isn’t that odd. Life on the road is a necessity for him. I have a choice. “I don’t want to stay in one place. That’s what I was doing when… Anyway, I want to travel. The road is where it’s at for me. Visiting a new city every couple days. Always a new adventure.”

“So was I wrong about you? When I said you didn’t enjoy life?”

He doesn’t have to elaborate. That conversation has been replaying in my mind—haunting me—ever since. “Life moves fast while we’re on the road. Isn’t that how it is for you? Watching life pass you by while you sit behind the glass of a tour bus?”

When he doesn’t respond, I keep going. “We’re just passengers on the road. We’re life’s bitch, and I rarely take detours. Never stop to smell the roses.” I shrug. “Life isn’t stopping for me, so I just keep moving through it. Isn’t that what people call drive? Music is the one good thing. It carries me, and then it catches me when I fall.” I stare into my plate, refusing to meet his eyes. That got a little deep.

“That’s so … sad.”

“Says the lonely rock star.”

“I’m not lonely. Just because I turn in early one night doesn’t mean I’m lonely. I’m surrounded by people. Constantly. How can you possibly call that lonely?”

I give him a look that asks if he’s joking. He’s either got a great poker face or he's in denial. “Wolf—is that really what people call you?”

“That’s my name.”

“Okay, then, Wolf. Being a musician—writing, traveling—it’s the loneliest job ever. It doesn’t matter that you’re surrounded by thousands of people a day. Who knows you? Beyond the music. Who really gets you? Who can you trust and talk to every day? Who spends their days giving back to you what you give to the world?

Besides all that, you’ve got to be in your head most of the time and you miss out on everything else. Don’t tell me you’re not lonely. And don’t tell me your band does it for you. They can’t possibly be your everything. I’m sure it gets lonely as hell without having someone to share your stories with, to bounce lyrics off, to go sightseeing with you, to just get away for a while.”

I’m not so sure I’m talking about Wolf anymore.

“I remember asking a certain someone to go sightseeing with me and she rejected me. If I really am lonely, it’s not my fault.”

I laugh, relieved the tone of the conversation has lightened. “It’s my fault you’re lonely?”

His upper lip curls at one corner. “Well, yeah. I guess so.”

“Huh. I see. Well, then, I’m sorry,” I say dryly.

He’s smirking into his glass now. He thinks he’s won. And I’m finding myself relaxing around him a little more than I’m comfortable with, so maybe he has. Damn it.

We order food and eat in silence as we watch the sports news channel above the bar. Even through the silence, my thoughts are loud, and so is my pounding heart. Wolf is a charmer. Even when he’s just minding his own business, I’m a flurry over his presence. I took this job to get away from trouble. Not to run into more of it. I swallow my last bite and reach for my purse.

“I should get to bed.” I shuffle out of my seat and throw cash on the bar.

His eyes move to my half-empty plate and then to me. He hands me back my money. “I got this, Lyric. I love your name, by the way.”

My hand wraps around his fist to clamp it shut and refuse the money, and I know immediately that wasn’t the best idea. Just the touch of his skin against mine alerts the swarm of flutters in my chest. I yank my hand away and step back. “Keep it for the tip.”

He doesn’t look up, just nods. “Goodnight, Lyric.”

“Goodnight, Wolf.”