Story Notes:
Disclaimer:  I'm not affiliated in any way, shape or form with the public figures I may have a whim to write about.  Don't know 'em, have no dealings with 'em at all.  Other characters and story elements are simply figments of my twisted imagination and wild creativity.  Any resemblance, likeness or similarity is completely unintentional.  Any borrowed elements (song lyrics, themes, etc.) are given their proper credit.

The rain pounded on the roof overhead, distracting him away from the page he’d been staring at for what seemed like an eternity.  With a groan, he shook his head, running a hand through his hair.  “This is getting nowhere.”

A soft knock sounded at the door, just before it swung open and she walked in, a steaming mug in each hand, bringing an instant smile to his lips, erasing the tense expression from seconds earlier.  “Hey, babe.”

“Hey.”  A grin lit her face as she crossed the room, her bare feet padding softly over the hardwood flooring until she stopped beside his desk chair, setting one of the mugs down next to the papers spread over the desk top.  “I brought you some hot chocolate.”

“Thanks.”  His shoulders heaved in a sigh and he reached up to take off his glasses.  “How’d you know?”

“I didn’t.  You’ve just been cooped up in here for the past three hours, so I thought …”  Her voice faded away as her eyes skipped over his features.  “How’s it coming?”

“It’s not.”  The chair squeaked as he leaned back, raising a hand to press his fingers against his closed eyelids, attempting to massage the weariness away.  “I really don’t know what Jace wants me to do with it.”

“What is it?”

“This new song he’s working on.  He’s hit a rut and for some reason, he thinks that I’ll be able to give him something to work past it.”

“Hmmm.”  She hummed, her expression turning thoughtful as she propped her hip on the edge of the desk, taking in all the crumpled pieces of paper littering the floor.  “No luck?”

“I’ve got nothing.  I keep reading it over and over … I think I could probably recite it to you.”  With a quiet laugh, he grasped the mug and brought it to his lips, carefully sipping the hot liquid.  “But I can’t come up with anything that sounds right with what he already has.”

“What does he have?”  Her eyebrow arched questioningly as she fingered the edge of the page.  “Can I take a look?”

“Sure.”  He made a careless gesture with his free hand, rolling his head to stretch out the kinks in his neck.  “Knock yourself out.”

The ceramic mug was set down on his desk, then the page was lifted, blue eyes narrowing as she tried to decipher JC’s messy scribbling.  “I don’t see how you can even read this …”  Her grumbling trailed off and she ignored his soft laughter as she finally began to make out the words.


She said "Write me a song

And fill it all up with the words

Like 'brilliant' and 'heavenly'

Make it sound just like me

Just like the first time 'I love you' was heard

 


And now write me a song

One that makes all the girls cry

And the old women swoon at the sound of my tune

And the hearts of the lonely will fly"

Yeah, they'll fly 

“He wrote it for Liv, didn’t he?”  She didn’t look up as she spoke, reading over the words again.

“Yeah.  At least I think he did.”  His eyes moved over the blank space on the back of the paper.  “It reads like it, doesn’t it?”

“Mmmhmm.”  The hum was distracted, then she let out a laugh.  “Leave it to Jace to write a song about her telling him to write a song about her.”

“I know.  It’s crazy.”  He grinned as she put the lyrics down.  “She probably bet him that he wouldn’t, or something like that.”

“I wouldn’t put it past her.  That sounds exactly like something she’d do.”  Her expression became thoughtful.  “But he still has to finish it.”

“Right.”

“This doesn’t even sound like verses … maybe a first and second chorus?”

“I don’t know.  He just handed it to me and told me to see what I could come up with.”  A deep sigh moved his shoulders.  “Whatever it is, I’m just not feeling it.”

“Well, if it’s supposed to be for her … maybe you aren’t meant to have a part in it.”  She picked up her mug and took another sip.  “You know Liv, but you don’t feel that way about her.  I don’t see how you could expect to connect yourself to a song that’s supposed to carry or convey an emotion that you don’t necessarily feel for the subject.”  Sharp eyes cut to him.  “At least, you’d better not.”

“Of course I don’t.”  An impish grin formed on his lips.  “Jace would kill me.”

“Forget Jace … I’d kill you.”

He laughed at the playful growl, then reached out to touch her, his warm hand covering her knee.  “You don’t have anything to worry about, baby.  You know I’m crazy about you.”

“Yeah, but still …”  She leaned forward with a smile, her fingers combing through his hair.  “She’s my friend and all, but I wouldn’t have a second thought about taking out the competition.”

With a sigh, he shook his head.  “And you’d do it, too.”  His gaze met hers.  “This song still bugs me, though.  I’ve got all kinds of ideas, just none that fit here.”

“Then let JC worry about it.  It’s his song, so he should really be the one to finish it.  Don’t you think?”  He nodded silently and her head tilted to one side, her eyes moving over him carefully.  “Besides, if you have your own ideas … why don’t you work on them instead?  If you can clear out all those songs already locked up in there, then you might be able to give something else a fresh look and make that magic happen.”

“You know, you could be right.”

Her gaze turned down when his fingers tightened on her knee.  “Of course I am.”

“My voice of reason.”  Another swallow of warm chocolate and he leaned forward, setting what was left of the drink down on the desk before spinning the chair around to prop his feet up on the filing cabinet, reclining back with his arms crossed, letting his eyelids drop closed.  “How is it that you know exactly what I need to hear, when I need to hear it?”

“It’s one of those bonuses I get for being a woman.”  She grinned, her eyes moving over to skim the page lying beside her once again.  “Chris?”

“Hmmm?”

“What kind of song would I be?”

Brown eyes opened to look at her questioningly.  “What kind of song would you be?”

“Yeah.”  Her finger ran lightly over the words on the paper.  “If you could turn me into a song, what kind would it be?”

“I … I’m not positive.”  He went silent, thinking it over.  “I guess it’d really depend on …”

She looked up when he fell quiet again, a blonde eyebrow arched.  “It’d depend on what?”

“Your mood.  You aren’t just one type of song, Mel.  You’re like putting in a home-made mix CD.”  A smile curved his lips as he stared at the ceiling.  “Eighties.  Country rock.  Pop ballad.  Hair band.  Classical.  R and B.  Contemporary.  Jazz.  You’re a little bit of everything.”  His arms uncrossed, opening in invitation.  “Come here.”

“A little bit of everything, huh?”  Setting down the mug and moving away from the desk, she obliged, making herself comfortable in the tiny bit of room left in the chair.  “Even rap?”

“No.”  He shook his head.  “No rap.  You aren’t that violent.”

“Not even when I’m mad?”

“Nope.”  His chest rose with a quiet chuckle and he pulled on her until she was settled across him.  “You get mad, yeah, but it’s not a rap mad.  It’s usually more of an acid metal mad.”

She laughed and leaned back against him, curling slightly into his chest when his arms went around her, his fingers combing through her ponytail.  “Which one is your favorite?”

“What do you mean?”

“If I have hair band moments and country moments and all that … which one do you like the best?”

“I love them all, so it’s kind of hard to choose.”  His chin tilted down until his cheek rested against the side of her head, breathing deeply to take in the floral scent of her shampoo.  “I really don’t think I can narrow it down to just one.”

“How about a top two?”

“Maybe I can do two.”  They sat there in silence for a few moments as he mulled over his answer, the rain beginning to come down even harder overhead.  “Whenever you’re having a good day, you’re smiling and laughing and it’s like one of those really happy, goofy eighties dance songs.  I love watching you love life, so that’s the first one.”  She could feel his lips moving against her hair.  “The other … that first time you kiss me after we haven’t seen each other for a week or so …”

“Let me guess.”  Her head tilted back until she could see him, eyes widened playfully.  “R&B?”

“Well, I was going to say ballad.  Not one of those Whitney or Celine power ballads, but one of those love songs where you can tell the singer really means it.”  Closing the short gap between them, he kissed her briefly, then pulled back with a grin, dark eyebrows moving suggestively.  “Although the R&B moments rank really high up there, too.  Possibly even at the top of the list.”

“I’m sure they do.”  Piercing blue eyes softened as her gaze moved over his features.  “If you can associate music genres with my moods, then surely you can do wonders lyrically.”

“It’s not quite the same, Mel.”  He shifted slightly, his right hand coming down to massage her hip.  “The lyrics take a little imagination and a lot of inspiration.”

“Then maybe one day I’ll inspire you into lyrical greatness.”

“Maybe you already have.”  His lips met hers again.  “Maybe it’s just not on paper yet.”  Another kiss and he leaned back.  “You’re the best inspiration I could ask for, babe.”

“Hmmm.”  The tone was sleepy, her head tilting to rest on his shoulder as his fingers pressed in a harder massage, his other hand moving slowly over her back.  A deep yawn escaped and she laughed, hugging him tightly before getting to her feet and moving to the desk, her finger tracing the rim of her nearly empty mug.  “It’s getting kind of late … I should probably head home.”

He stood as well, letting his legs bump against the chair to move it away and reaching out to pull her back into his arms.  “You’re on vacation this week.  Just crash here again.”

“I’ve spent the last three nights here with you, Chris.  My plants will die if they don’t get watered.”  Her protesting tone was weak as her arms wound tightly around his waist and her cheek pressed into his chest, physically contradicting her own words.  “And Tabs.  He’s got that food and water oasis thing, but he doesn’t like to be left alone …”

“The cat and plants will be all right.  One more night won’t hurt, I promise.”  His eyes turned to the ceiling as the rain became torrential, slamming against the shingles two floors above them.  “I don’t want you driving in this weather.”

“I’ve lived here my entire life and it’s just a little rain storm.”  She tilted her head back and away from the fabric of his shirt until she could look up at him.  “I’m fine to drive and I …”

Whatever she’d been about to say was forgotten, the words vanishing into his mouth as he leaned down to her, his hands tightening on her as he made this kiss deeper than the others.  Her arms moved up to wrap around his neck and she went on her tiptoes, pressing herself as closely to him as she could, immediately responding in the way he’d come to expect from her.

Finally, he broke away, his forehead resting against hers as the fingers of his left hand brushed a few stray hairs away from her cheek.  “Stay.  Please.”

“Well, when you put it that way …”  The smile that formed was instant, spreading all the way into her eyes.  “I’ll stay.”  He gave her a squeeze and a quick kiss before she could bury her face in his chest again.  “I’m such a pushover.”

“Only with me.”  His words were jolted by soft laughter.

“Yeah, only with you.”  Sighing, she pulled away, reaching for the mugs.  “I’m not going to let this rain go to waste.  That bed upstairs is calling my name and I can feel a really good sleep coming on.”  Draining the liquid left in both cups, she licked her lips, arching an eyebrow at him.  “Are you going to join me or are you going to stay down here for a while longer?”

Her head tilted in a gesture to the doorway and his initial instinct was to follow her, but something held him back, drew him toward the desk.

“I think I’ll work a little longer.”  Pulling the chair back over to him, he sat down.  “I’ll be up in a little while.”

“Don’t be too long, okay?  It won’t help anything if you stress over it too much.”  Holding the empty mugs in one hand, she leaned down and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, then turned and moved away from him.

His eyes traveled over her as she walked toward the door, taking in the bouncy blonde ponytail that swung around her shoulders, revealing the column of her neck and throat.  She wore one of his old flannel shirts, the fabric hanging low on her petite frame, coming down until it was just above the ragged edge of her denim cut-off shorts, hiding the curves that shaped her body and the familiar sway of her hips.

Melanie wasn’t anywhere near tall, a few inches shorter than he even when she was wearing heels, but her legs seemed to go on forever and he knew exactly how smooth and soft her skin was.  The corners of his lips kicked up in a small smile as his gaze moved down over her knees and calves, coming to a stop on her feet, fixing on the pink color of her painted toes, so focused he didn’t even notice when she stopped in the doorway and turned back to him.

“Hey.”  Her soft voice snatched his attention, bringing his eyes up to meet hers.  “Love you.”

“Love you, too, baby.”

With a smile, she disappeared into the darkness of the hallway and a moment later, he heard the stairs creaking as she headed up to the master bedroom.

He sent the chair spinning, coming to a halt when he was facing the desk, the pad of paper and ink pen seeming to taunt him mercilessly.  His shoulders heaved in a sigh and he ran a hand over his face, wondering why he was still down here when he really wanted to be upstairs with her.

“Craziness.  That’s what this is.  Pure insanity.”

Resting his elbows on the desktop, he chewed on the side of his thumb, restless eyes moving all over the room until they landed on the small framed photo of the two of them sitting on the corner of the polished wood.

Dark eyebrows rose in consideration and he propped his chin on the heel of his palm, his fingers tapping against his lips as he stared at the image.

“If I could write you right now … what kind of song would you be?”

His thoughts spun off, ideas and memories, images and sounds playing rapidly through his mind.  All the things he saw in her and loved about her.  What she made him feel.  How amazing it was that they’d actually made it work.

Inspired, he smiled, picked up the pen and began scribbling quickly, filling up the page with lyrics in a span of minutes.

Reaching out for his guitar, he pulled it into his lap, brow furrowing as he let his fingers slide over the strings and looked back at the photo.

“Would you be slow?  Fast?”  He positioned his fingers, strumming a chord into the silence of the room.  “No.  You’d be somewhere in between.  Bouncy.  Catchy.  Easy to groove with.”  The strings danced as he picked out a rhythm, but he shook his head.  “Not that fancy.  Tonight, you’re simple and relaxed.”  A slow progression of chords sang from the guitar’s chamber and he nodded in satisfaction, making a few notes in the margins around his lyrics.  “That’s it.  Perfect.”

An hour later, it was done.

Sitting back in the chair, he read over the page once more, relaxing as he felt a bubble of pride form in his chest.

It wouldn’t win a Grammy.  It wasn’t flashy or drawn out.  It’d probably never even get recorded.

But it was her.

And that was all that really mattered.

He stood, guitar and notebook in hand, and made his way down the hall and up the stairs, pausing only for a second before stepping onto the plush carpet covering his bedroom floor.

The bedside lamp was still on, illuminating her lying on top of the covers, still wearing her shorts and his shirt, curled onto her side and facing away from what had become his side of the bed.  Quietly, he made his way across the room, doing his best not to wake her up just yet.  As he settled himself on the mattress beside her with his back toward the headboard, legs crossed, guitar resting across his knees, he couldn’t help but smile when she turned over on her back, sensing he was there even in her sleep.

The notebook was a bright white against the dark green color of the comforter, the scribbled words and notations seeming to jump off the page at him as he strummed the first chord.

She was a light sleeper, her brow furrowing by the third chord and her eyes drifting open by the fifth.  The sleepy blue stare bore into him, but he still didn’t look up, simply kept his attention on the instrument in his hands.

“Chris?  What are you doing?”

Her voice was confused and he laughed under his breath before turning his eyes up to her.  “Playing.”

She was quiet for a second, and he figured she was trying to get around the obviousness of his answer.  “Uh, yeah.  I get that.”  Blinking at the ceiling, she yawned, then sat up beside him, stretching her arms over her head.  “What are you playing?”

“You.”  A short, direct response, accompanied by a playful grin.

“Me.”  Her eyes narrowed, visibly struggling to understand.  “You’re playing me?”

“Yep.”

He kept strumming, tilting his head down once again, and she just sat there, watching him.  “How …”

“Shhhh.”  Without looking up, he shushed her.  “Trust me … it’s definitely you.  Just listen.”

Shaking her head and biting her tongue, she arched an eyebrow at his hair, still not quite getting it.  But when he started to sing, she sat back, paying close attention to the words floating around the room.

You’re a falling star, you’re the getaway car

You’re the line in the sand when I go too far

You’re the swimming pool on an August day

And you’re the perfect thing to say

Her quiet laughter carried underneath the music, prompting him to raise his gaze up from the strings and to her, his grin lifting the tone of his voice as he continued through the lyrics.

And you play it coy but it’s kinda cute

Oh when you smile at me you know exactly what you do

Baby, don’t pretend that you don’t know it’s true

’Cause you can see it when I look at you

With a wink, he turned his eyes back down to the guitar for the chorus, his head bobbing as his fingers moved over the strings, picking out the happy, mid-tempo rhythm that he’d chosen for the song she’d inspired.  His toes tapped soundlessly against the comforter, his leg bouncing as he transitioned into the next verse.

You’re a carousel, you’re a wishing well

And you light me up when you ring my bell

You’re a mystery, you’re from outer space

You’re every minute of my every day

She couldn’t keep the smile from gracing her features, purposely shifting over until she was seated next to him, mirroring his cross-legged position in the middle of the mattress.  Her teeth worked over her lip, and she debated for only a second before placing her hand on his back, moving it in slow, lazy circles until her fingers brushed the skin at the base of his neck, just beyond the edge of his shirt.

Turning to face her, he kept right on, his eyes fixed on hers as he continued to sing for her.

And I can’t believe that I’m your man

And I get to kiss you, baby, just because I can

Whatever comes our way, we’ll see it through

’Cause you know that’s what our love can do

He went through the chorus one last time, tearing his gaze away from her and focusing all his concentration on the strum pattern, trying to ignore the way her hand was moving over the back of his neck, chill bumps forming wherever her fingertips traveled.

 And in this crazy life

 And through these crazy times

It’s you, it’s you

You make me sing

You’re every line

You’re every word

You’re everything

 

 You’re every song

And I sing along

’Cause you’re my everything

 As the last chord died from the guitar’s chamber, she shifted even closer to him, stretching her neck until she could kiss first his cheek, then the corner of his mouth.  “Is that what you were working on?”

“Yeah.”

Her fingers moved up to comb through the hair just above his neck.  “That was …”

“It might not be lyrical genius, but …”

She grinned as they tripped over each other’s words.  “It was wonderful, Chris.”

“I meant every word of it.  I watched you walk out to head up here and it just hit me.”  He reached out and took her free hand, lacing his fingers through hers and bringing it up to his lips.  “Inspiration struck.  And it got me to thinking.”

“About what?”

“That night we first met, when you were sitting there with the guy from the dating website.”  His eyes came up to meet hers.  “I just got up and went over to your table, asked you to dance … if I’d been you, I probably wouldn’t have given me the time of day.  But you danced with me anyway.”

“You were rescuing me.  I wasn’t about to turn that down.  And I really did need a hero.”  She pulled her hand from his to wrap her arms around him, giving him the best hug she could while he was still holding the guitar.  “If things were different and I had to go back and do it all over again, if the guy hadn’t been a jerk … I hope that I’d still dance with you.  I want to keep dancing with you.”  Her lips moved over the fabric covering his shoulder.  “You’ve been my hero ever since we met.  And I love you.”

“I love you, too.”  The guitar was pushed onto the comforter and he returned her embrace.  “Sometimes … it just blows my mind.  I really can’t believe that you chose to stick with me, when there are so many other guys out there who would be better for you.”

“No, there aren’t.”  A soft sigh escaped and she closed her eyes.  “You keep me on my toes.  You make me feel special and safe and comfortable.  No matter what kind of mood I’m in, you take me as is and I know you wouldn’t change a thing about me.  But I guess the biggest thing is … I’ve never been as happy as I am when I’m with you.”  Her smile was hidden in his shoulder, but he could hear it in her voice.  “Not to mention that you’re a fantastic kisser.”

His chest shook with muted laughter.  “That’s a plus, huh?”

“Absolutely.  A definite plus.”  She moved back, just enough to grin up at him.  “Your being dead sexy doesn’t hurt, either.”

A loud laugh flew around the room and his hold tightened on her.  “Well, that settles it right there.”  He leaned down to kiss her cheek, then pulled away, picking up the guitar and turning to stretch over the edge of the mattress, carefully setting the instrument down on the carpeted floor.  But before he could straighten back up, her hands were on him, twisting him around and pulling him down so that he was laying half on top of her, her head raising just enough for her lips to meet his.

Almost a full minute passed before he regained his senses enough to straighten himself out, his forearms resting on each side of her so that he could keep himself from crushing her into the mattress, his fingers working the band from her hair so that it came free of the ponytail, allowing him to bury his hands in the silky strands, bringing her even closer to him.

When her hands slipped underneath his shirt, he pulled back, pushing himself up with his elbows.  “What exactly are you aiming for here, honey?”

A blonde eyebrow arched playfully.  “I just figured that if I can inspire you to write a song like that …"  Her grin turned wicked.  “Then maybe I can inspire a little of that R&B you like so much.”

“Ah.”  He laughed, his thumbs brushing gently over her cheeks.  “You want R&B, huh?”

“Yep.”  Her fingertips traced tiny circles over his spine and she bit her lip to keep from laughing when she felt him shiver.  “Preferably with you.”

“Baby …”  With a bright smile, he leaned down, his lips making a trail along her jaw, heading directly for her neck.  “If it’s R&B you want, then I’m more than happy to deliver.”

 

Contains lyrics from Edwin McCain’s Write Me A Song
and Michael Buble’s Everything
Chapter End Notes:

I was going through an old external drive and found a folder of shorts that I remembered uploading here ... and when I saw that this one hadn't made it on, I thought "Why the heck not?"  *laughs*  After spending half an hour working out the formatting to actually upload to the site (and still not getting it to look like my original document!  Grrr!), I vaguely remembered why I still had files tucked away.

Anywho, is anybody still out there in *NFiction land?  If so, whaddaya think?  :-)


Completed
Renee is the author of 12 other stories.


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