Page 62 of Love Unwritten
COLE
Someone recognized me, and I panicked.
COLE
I swear.
I release a relieved breath and head toward the back. While I haven’t spent much time around famous people since Ava gained popularity after she kicked me to the curb, I can only imagine how overwhelming it must feel, especially for someone like Cole, who became famous before he was ever born.
I open the back door and find the musician leaning against a wall with a ball cap drawn low over his face and a pair of sunglasses that hide his eyes.
He holds up a second cup for me. “You asked for a dirty chai, right?”
“Thanks.” I happily grab the iced drink from him and take a big gulp. “You know, if you didn’t want to be recognized, I would have suggested meeting somewhere else.”
He makes a face. “I thought people wouldn’t take notice.”
I can’t help laughing. “Are you joking?”
“My agent told me no one would care about who I am here.”
I stare at him without blinking. “Are you even aware of how famous you are?”
Cole, despite having famous rock stars for parents, has built a name for himself in the indie-folk genre. His music is slightly different from Ava’s, although they are often included in the same playlists and end up competing for awards at shows. If it hadn’t been for Ava’s album, Cole would have most likely won Album of the Year himself.
“Hard to forget,” he grumbles.
“Must suck sometimes,” I say.
“Yeah, it does, but then I remember the good things that come with a job like mine.”
“Like what?”
“Connecting with people through my songs. Making them feel seen and heard with my lyrics.”
“That’s the best part.” My lips curve of their own accord.
His smile is nothing but friendly. “I knew you’d understand.”
“Yeah.” I focus on a spot in the distance.
“So…” Here we go. “I know you said you don’t write songs anymore.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Is there any way I could convince you to try?”
I had a feeling that was why he wanted to meet, but a small part of me had hoped I could avoid the topic for a little while longer.
“I haven’t written a song since…” Finishing my sentence proves impossible.
“Silver Scars” was the last song I wrote before Ava’s music producer and new boyfriend at the time, Darius Larkin, ruined my career. It was the only one I wrote that was inspired by myself, which was one of the reasons I asked Ava and Darius to clear all evidence of it from their computers.
I didn’t want people around the world to know how I viewed myself or the story behind my scars. Couldn’t bear the idea of someone else singing about them either, even if that person happened to be my best friend at the time.
“Silver Scars” was and will always be my story, and no amount of pleading on Ava’s part could convince me to let her keep it, so at least I can sleep better at night knowing the song was wiped from their hard drive.
I can’t make out Cole’s eyes through the dark shades, but I feel them traveling over my face.