Page 64 of Your Play to Call
Tripp cautiously opens thedoor to the studio, like he’s trying to not disturb me. When he sees me sitting with a guitar, but taking a break, he walks to me and kisses my cheek.
“How’s the writing today?”
“Surprisingly good,” I say, taking the guitar off and setting it next to me.
“Don’t stop on my account.”
“No, I need a break.”
“Well, then I’ve got perfect timing,” he says while sitting next to me.
I lean into him and he wraps an arm around my shoulders.
“I’m very excited about the music sneak peek though. Not going to even try to lie.”
“Ahh. That makes one of us.” I cover my eyes with one of my hands. “I never play music early for people. Like, it makes me cringe. Getting that first reaction on something. From someone who counts.”
“Someone who counts, huh?” He leans into me and squeezes my shoulder.
Why did I say that? I swear, sometimes my brain just runs from one thought to the other. Heat creeps up my neck and part of me wishes I’d melt into the floor.
Tripp uses two fingers to tip my face to his and puts his lips on mine.
“I like being someone who counts,” he says in between kisses, a massive grin pulling at his lips.
I keep falling deeper and deeper. Every time he says something like this, it’s like the magnetic pull gets stronger. Not even the words he says, but how he says it. He means it.
“Alright, let’s get this over with. I have two complete songs and a snippet of another that are ready for playback. I change the output on the soundboard so it will play through the whole studio and not myheadphones.
Tripp rubs his hands together and sits up tall.
Music fills the studio. The first two are piano only and the partial song is on guitar. I pace while my voice comes in and out. I can play it for him but the farther I am from him the better. My heart races and my hands shake a bit.
We’re in the middle of the second song when I steal the quickest of glances. Tripp has his eyes closed, a smile on his face, and he’s sort of swaying with the beat. This reaction eases my anxiety, just a bit.
I love the bridge for this one. It’s one that fell out of my brain, onto the piano keys, and hit me in the right spot while I was writing. I mouth the words as they play.
You and I dance, under the night sky,
nothing but a gleam
Entwined, a fleeting moment, on the fringe
of this cosmic dream
Each star, its own, bright beauty
In the spaces between
We dance and you kiss me like it counts,
A promise unseen
The music stops. Tripp stands up and, to my horror, claps.
“Stop it.” I put my hand on my forehead, pretending to hide from him.
“I will not. This is a fan’s dream! I am living the dream.” He walks toward me. “Willow, this is so good. The piano is delicate and powerful and ugh, you sound so good when you sing with the piano.”