Page 172 of Toxic Wishes
With the guitar in my hand, I froze, slowly lifting my gaze to his. I knew what he was asking. He wanted to mend us all together. Not as a farewell but more of a new beginning, and I know I couldn’t say no. I cleared my throat and played it off, scared to make it a bigger deal than it was, and he would tell me he was kidding and take the guitar back, telling me this was all a joke and kicking me out. I was so used to the things I loved being taken from me that it would take time to get used to them. Used to stability. A home.
“Okay,” I say softly. I stroke the strings as Colt pulls up a chair and sits across from me.
I cleared my throat once more before I started to sing. When Cliff and I worked together, I memorized every lyric and melody, so it all came naturally as my fingers plucked the strings. Closing my eyes, I got lost in the music—the memories—the future. The feeling was so overwhelming that I almost felt as if I was flying at the moment.
When I was finished, my eyes fluttered open, and I saw Colt hold down his phone to his chest and begin typing.
When I come back from my little high, reality hits me, realizing what he’s doing.
“Are you posting that?” I quickly put the guitar on the bed, springing up to grab his phone, but he was too fast. Damn, football practice, I thought.
“You better not be posting that. I look like shit. And I have no bra or underwear on.”
Colt laughs as he holds the phone up above his head and types. I try to tug at both arms, but they are made of steel, so they don’t budge.
“Hell yeah, that’s fucking hot.” He clicks something. And then says. “Done.”
“Please tell me you didn’t post that on social media?”
“Hey, most girls would be happy that I’m claiming them as my own.”
“That’s not what-”
“Besides this time, if anyone has some shitty things to say, they can answer to me. And your voice is amazing, Abigail. You should want the world to hear it. It’s-”
“Oh, whatever, you’re just trying to butter me up so I’m not mad.”
“No, I’m serious. I thought I was talented, but that voice—it’s like silk. You really could be the next Whitney Houston.”
Warmth flutters over me. “Really?” A small smile forms on my lips
“Yes.” He brings me in for a hug, and I notice the time behind him.
“It's 11:11.” I break free from his grip and jump up and down like a little kid. “Our first wish together. We have to make a wish.”
“That’s easy.” He says, taking my hands in his.
“My brother got all your wishes, but I want all your kisses. Now, and forever more, Abigail Asher. Will you give me that?”
“Even my toxic ones?”
“Even better.”
Epilogue
ABIGAIL
One ear Later
“See you at twelve for the meeting tomorrow,” Brittany shouts to another girl living in the house. I try to stop by the place as often as possible to check on the girls and boys, but lately, I’ve been swamped.
Bodie was about to turn eight, and I was nearing twenty-three. I can’t believe how much has happened in a year. I still want to pursue my medical degree to teach Bodie that you shouldn’t rely solely on wishes you want to come true because even though they can, having an educational backup plan is always good.
When Colt posted that video of me singing in his t-shirt, it went viral. I’m pretty sure the fact that the NFL, Super Bowl-winning quarterback posted it, and not me, had something to do with its virality, but so did my voice. I’m not going to lie. I’m so grateful he posted it, because if he didn’t, I wouldn’t be in the position I am today; doing what I wished for all those years ago when Blake and I were just kids. What blows my mind even to this day is, I had no makeup on in that video and was technically naked under the shirt I was wearing, and no one paid attention to that once people heard my voice. They couldn’t believe how smooth it was like silk projected into the air as my voice lined up perfectly with the notes I played on the guitar. Then, when music agents found out I was the one behind the scenes of the album Toxic Wishes, the phone wouldn’t stop ringing.
I inhaled, still feeling the bright lights beaming down on me, scorching my skin. I can still feel the sweat trickling down my back as I envisioned no one watching me. Although I prefer to be behind the scenes of music, I performed on stage for the first time last week and realized music isn’t just about the beat, melody, or words. It’s all about the performance. So I made sure I had a great one. One good enough to be recognized from the heavens above to get Blake’s attention. I sang my heart out. I was pouring a part of my soul and leaving it behind once I left that stage.
We did it.