Love Struck (Miss Match #2) (6 page)

Shut up. How would you mess it up?
He was the one who should be nervous. What if
he
mucked it up by choosing a movie that didn’t hit her at all creatively?

I feel like the only songs I can write right now are silly. Remember Glen Hansard’s Broken Hearted Hoover Fixer Sucker Guy? Yeah. Me.

You shut up. That song is kind of brilliant. It expresses every single thing he’s feeling, in an unconventional way. And you know the movie Once. And that makes me so happy.
Maybe this was a sign that it was the flick to choose.

One of my favorites. Doi.

Yeah, LoveCoda was pretty much perfect.

And he suddenly changed his mind about what they should watch together. He was surprised he hadn’t thought of it earlier—a sappy classic bound to inspire anyone. Plus it had a songwriting B character that he just knew LoveCoda had to admire.

So tell me, Love, how long has it been since you’ve seen Say Anything?
He held his breath while he waited for her answer. It would be fine if she said she’d never seen it, but what if she hated it? That would put a dent in the image he’d created regarding this mysterious stranger.

It’s been ages.
There was a pause before her next words appeared.
But it’s definitely a favorite. So are we watching?

He was wrong. LoveCoda wasn’t
pretty much
perfect. She was
completely
perfect. He was grinning as he typed his response.

Already got it cued.

Chapter Six

“
I wrote…”
Lacy sang a capella before tearing into the guitar, “
sixty-three songs about you. I’m gonna play them, whoa, all tonight
.”
Nope.

That wasn’t even lyrics. That was just taking lines directly from a movie and attempting to put them to the most generic chord pattern possible. Blocked or not, she was better than this.

She moved on to “Take Nineteen,” though she was pretty sure she’d hit “Take Nineteen” several times over now. “
It’s all working out like we planned, it was all working out like we planned, until it stopped working, and now, hey isn’t life grand
.”

Double nope.

Maybe she needed to retune. She adjusted her G string before trying something else. “
A little ditty, bout Lloyd and Diane…”

Hopeless.

It had been a great idea, and an even greater night. Watching
Say Anything
with Folx had been fun and maybe even a touch romantic. She’d completely forgotten about her childhood crush on Lloyd Dobbler. The movie was, at its heart, as Folx reminded her, about honesty, about letting go. Two qualities he clearly noticed she was lacking in her songwriting.

And that was exactly her hang-up here too. How could she write a song about honesty? About letting go? She’d been so tightlipped about Lance and his death that she hadn’t even shared the story with Folx.
But it’s not because I’m holding onto anything
. There was just no reason to jump into that drama.

Which was fine for her to understand, but it didn’t get her anywhere with a freaking song.

She set her guitar down.

Then she picked it up again. She wasn’t going to let Folx down. Or herself. “
I’m afraid to fly, I’m afraid. I’m afraid to die, on a plane.”

Blech.

It just wasn’t coming to her. She stopped trying for lyrics, and started playing Peter Gabriel’s “In Your Eyes” on Lucky instead. One riff led to another, and next thing she knew, she was just jamming out.
At least I can still play.

Playing wasn’t enough, though, and it wasn’t the point of the exercise. Her fingers weren’t blocked, after all. Blowing out a deep breath, she tried again. And again. Nothing was coming.

Maybe if I watched it again.

She cued up the movie, and sat in front of it with her guitar. As the familiar scenes played out, she strummed along, here a major, here a minor. Ninety minutes later, she had half a dozen viable chord progressions.

Not a lyric in sight.

Again.
She restarted the film, this time with a notebook to copy down her favorite lines. Halfway through, the movie was starting to seem as trite and boring as the stray couplets she’d managed to scribble down here and there. Also, half the day was gone, and she hadn’t even eaten. She tossed her notebook aside and wandered out to find her sister.

Andy was lounging on the couch with a book in her hand. “There’s leftovers in the fridge. I had Chinese with Blake earlier.” Lacy padded over to inspect the contents.
Sesame chicken, score. No crab Rangoon, crap. Crab, crap. Crab crap. Five times fast. Could that be a song?

Stop thinking and eat; you’re delirious.

“I’m a little surprised you aren’t with him, actually. Isn’t Sunday normally your lazy day together?” Lacy stuck the box in the microwave and stared at it rotating through the little window, as if that would speed up the timer.

“Yeah, but I wanted to finish this book. It’s better than I thought it would be.” She vaguely gestured to the copy of
A Woman’s Education
next to her on the cushion.

“Noah’s book!” Their downstairs neighbor, Noah, was an in-the-closet erotic romance writer. Lacy had read his book as well, which often made it hard to make eye contact with him in the corridor. “It really is good. Why can’t you read during Lazy Sunday?”

Deciding she didn’t care about heat so much as just shoving something in her mouth, Lacy pulled the box out early and snagged a pair of chopsticks from the silverware drawer.

“It just seems rude.” Andy patted the couch beside her for Lacy to join.

Lacy didn’t get it. When Lance was alive, they spent plenty of time together not focused on the same thing. She plopped down. “You guys are engaged.”

“Yeah?”

“That means you’re getting married.” Lacy couriered a bite to her lips, which burned, even as the inside turned to cold mush in her mouth.
Dammit. There are no shortcuts. Back to the microwave.

“I know.”

Really, sometimes Andy was such a dunce. “So, when the portentous event occurs, and you’re living together, what are you going to do then if you want to pick up a book?”

“I know, I know. But somehow when you’re living together, it doesn’t seem weird to be in the same space but doing different things. Now, when I go over there, it’s like there’s some invisible pressure that I feel to do what he’s doing. I mean, it’s not like he picks all the things, but you know what I mean. We watch movies, or play pinball, or walk Puppy. It seems not cool to show up at his house, and then be like, ‘Oh hey, I’ll just be over here while you do that.’”

Lacy rolled her eyes at her sister from the kitchen, where she was once again staring down the small carton on its revolving trip. “Okay. I guess I get what you’re saying. But it’s still weird.”

“I’ve always been weird, Lace. Get used to it.”

“True that,” Lacy muttered under her breath. Though, maybe Andy did have a point. Lacy and Lance had lived together during their engagement, while Andy was still living with her. Perhaps that made it different. Or maybe just relationships were different in general.

She wondered what she’d be like with Folx. Would she feel obligated to do what he was doing just because they were in the same room?

And what a stupid thing to be wondering because she and Folx had never been in the same room together, and at this rate, they never would be. The truth of that hit Lacy like bad crab Rangoon—she would never be in a room with Folx. Never see him in person. Never know if the feelings that she was currently nursing could grow into anything more.

Lots of “nevers” with no hope of becoming “somedays.”

Not unless one of them got the balls to move their online relationship forward. And if she was waiting for that to be Folx … why?

Well, holy Chinese-food-inspired epiphany.

She could just as easily ask the questions that pressed at her whenever she thought about him.
Could they be something more than friends? Were they already? Would he be willing to find out? Did she want to?

The microwave buzzed, shaking Lacy from her contemplation. It was certainly an idea to think further on. She didn’t have to conjure up the guts to go forward with it right at that moment.

“Hey, it sounded like you were really on a roll in there,” Andy called from the other room. “Wanna play me anything?”

Lacy was pulling out the carton with two fingers, getting burned, blowing on them, and repeating the process. The universal Dance of Nuking. Luckily, that gave her time to get a hold of her answer.

“Nah, I need to step away for a little while, get fresh before I finish that one.” It was getting easier and easier to tell this particular lie. The one where she had been writing the whole time. The one where she wasn’t a pathetic hack.

“No worries. I’m just curious to hear the new stuff.”

She hadn’t even told Andy about the change in her studio schedule because she knew she’d press Lacy to play her album list. Then she’d have to confess.

God, when had she become such a wimp? She’d always thought of herself as a strong person.

That was it. She couldn’t live with herself if she was afraid of everything. Old Lacy would kick New Lacy’s ass over this stuff. Though she wasn’t ready to admit she was blocked in the songwriting department, she could at least get up the nerve to ask Folx about their relationship. Next time they talked, she promised herself, she’d be brave. She’d be bold.

Lacy returned to the sofa and sat so her feet were on Andy’s lap.

“Do you wanna hear the text Tim sent me at five in the morning today?”

Lacy smiled at her sister. “Obviously. Five in the morning on a Sunday? Does he sleep?” At least her evasion had gone well. Better than usual. And with her decision made about Folx, she felt slightly less pathetic than she had a minute before.

*   *   *

Eli was cracking up.

Tonight he’d agreed to give LoveCoda a rest on the songwriting help—he could practically hear the frustration through the instant messenger when she told him she’d watched the movie three more times with no success. Now they were doing what they did best—goofing off. She’d once told him that
Pitch Perfect
was her go-to Happy Place, but he hadn’t seen it. So now, instead of watching a movie and hoping to derive Meaning and Inspiration, they were watching and deriving pleasure.

He probably shouldn’t be online at all. It was after midnight, and he had a bus to catch in the morning. Tour time, which should make him excited. And he was. He loved performing his material in front of a live audience. Just … the whole band experience was beginning to seem old. But he felt so protective of Jax. Responsible. He couldn’t think about leaving. Not now.

So he was going on tour in the morning. He should be focusing on that instead of laughing at the ins and outs of a capella. Though, what else did he need to do to get ready? Minus the mandolin sitting at his feet, he was already packed. And he could sleep on the drive.

He kept
Pitch Perfect
on.

The current scene featured the characters at a party after they had been initiated into their singing groups. Something about it nagged that little spot in his mind where the words lived. There was a song there, he was sure. Something about that almost psychic connection with someone else, where even in a gigantic party, you are somehow always aware of where they are relative to you. Something about the way the ambient noise fades and all you can hear is the melody of their voice. Something about how he was suddenly positive that he’d know LoveCoda even in the biggest crowd. A memory of the Blue Hills’ last show sparked and flickered at the edge of his perception but faded as a tune flared up and eclipsed it.

He grabbed his mandolin and started to pick out the notes that were now surging through him. LoveCoda was repeating—typeating?—her favorite lines from the movie now with long strings of
ahahahaha
’s. It was so cute to see her happy—a genuine happiness that transferred through the machines and wires and satellite dishes that separated them.

He started jotting down lyrics.

Wake up to the buzz of progress

Another day, lightning striking

Life happening, high-speed passing

Everything around me

Chaos

In motion

And then you …

I hear you in the noise

I hear you in the noise

This disarray was unexpected

Advancing, closing in around me

But years I’ve waited for this take off

Breath held and I’m

Soaring

In motion

And then you …

I hear you in the noise

I hear you in the noise

Then there’s stillness

Silence

Peace of mind

I hear you in the noise

And I remember

What I’m fighting for

I hear you in the noise

He half paid attention to the movie and her responses to it for the duration of the time it took to write down his song. The first song he’d really written for
her
. Jesus. Eli had to admit it—this girl, this anonymous girl, was so much realer to him than anyone he’d met in person.

He looked back up, finally, to see the main character surrounded by DVDs in her bed,
Say Anything
being the closest to her. Eli wasn’t normally a man of faith, but this had the “coincidence” of a Higher Power written all over it. Love was commenting on it as well in the browser. He set his instrument aside and wrote back.

See, it really is one of the best music movies ever.