Chapter Ten
Wyatt
The door slammed shut behind her before I could get a word out. I cursed under my breath and shot to my feet, hobbling after her as fast as my Franken-boot would allow. This really needed to stop. I was an invalid for Pete’s sake! And even if I wasn’t, I didn’t chase after girls. It was usually the other way around. And that’s how I preferred it.
I didn’t even know why I was bothering.
Actually, that wasn’t true. I knew exactly why I was bothering.
I hadn’t been able to get Layne’s hurt look out of my head since lunch. It haunted me.
It had been a long time, if ever, that I’d seen that look from someone other than myself. I never let anyone close enough to feel genuinely hurt by my actions. If I never took anything seriously, I could fail without letting anyone down. But Layne didn’t seem to understand the rules.
I’d known her all of a day and already I’d hurt her. I winced. Was it really my fault if she wore her heart on her sleeve?
Apparently, I thought so since I kept chasing after her. I knew it might be best to just cut ties now and walk away; except there was one flaw in that plan. Layne needed a hero, and Northwood seemed to be in short supply.
“Layne! Wait.”
She whirled on me. “Why? Would you like to embarrass me some more today?”
“Embarrass you?”
“Oh, that’s right, you were the one embarrassed to be seen with me. My bad.”
“You’ve got it wrong.”
She stopped, turning to face me. “Do I?”
“Actually, yes, you do.” I limped closer. “Look, I was embarrassed. But not to be seen with you.”
“Then why?”
“Because.”
She crossed her arms and I knew nothing but the truth would save me now. I closed the distance between us so my admission could at least be made quietly. “Because I can’t read music, okay?”
“What?” Layne’s pouty lips snapped to a scowl. “Then how on earth were you planning to learn my songs?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m impulsive, remember?”
She scowled seemingly immune to the charming smile I was laying on her.
I scrubbed a frustrated hand over my face. “Fine, I should’ve told you. But can’t you just sing them for me or something?”
“I told you, I don’t sing! That’s what you’re here for.” Layne threw her hands up and began pacing. “This is unbelievable.”
“Is it really? You’re the one who thinks I’m a disappointment.”
“And you said you were going to prove me wrong.”
“I said maybe.”
Layne sighed, her defeat somehow worse than her fury. “I can’t believe this is how it ends.”
“Stop being so dramatic,” I grumbled. “This is a minor setback.”
“A minor setback? You can’t read music, Wyatt. I can’t teach you how to do that in two weeks.”
“How did you teach Lola your songs?”
“She reads music!”
“Okay, but you said you’ve been working together since fifth grade. I bet she didn’t read music back then.”
“No, but we just clicked. We’ve been doing it so long she knows how I want my songs to sound and I write them for her to sing. It was the perfect setup.”
“Well, good on you for finding perfection. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you such partnerships are few and far between. If you want to be a serious songwriter, you can’t be writing music for one specific kind of singer. You need to be wide, diverse, generic.”
“Generic? Are you kidding me?”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I really don’t.”
“I’m sure your songs would be brilliant if you sang them. That’s the appeal of a singer-songwriter. But if you’re writing music to sell to other singers you have to write about universal topics that the majority can relate to. It’ll make the song more believable coming from whomever the singer is and more appealing to the masses. That’s what it takes to be successful.”
She blinked her big brown eyes, magnified by her glasses. “How do you know so much about this?”
I stared at her, looking for even the slightest hint of mockery. There was none. “Do you really not know who my father is?”
She crossed her arms. “Should I?”
“Never mind.”
“Well, now I’m curious.”
“We’ve established your curiosity,” I grumbled.
“Why do I never understand what you’re trying to say?”
“I’m saying, I find it peculiar that you’re the one person at this school who doesn’t seem to think they know every detail about my life.” I shook my head, huffing a laugh despite my irritation. “And I rather like it, Penny Layne.”
She rolled her eyes at my nickname, endearing it further to me. “Let me guess, now you’re going to tell me I’m supposed to feel bad for you because you’re popular?”
“Popular, no. Gawked at like a zoo animal, yeah. That pretty much sucks.”
“No one thinks you’re a zoo animal. You’re just new. This is a small town, and you’re the flashy new toy.”
“It doesn’t matter where I go. Thanks to my father I’ve always been the flashy new toy.”
“And he is?”
I smirked. “Nice try.”
“Oh, come on. You said everyone knows who he is.”
“Well if you don’t, I’m not going to spoil it.”
She crossed her arms. “Why don’t you want to talk about your family?”
“Do you want to talk about yours?”
“Point taken. But we do need to find some common ground or at least a solid way of communicating or we’re just wasting our time.”
“I agree.”
Layne sighed, leaning back against the wall across from me. She mimicked my stance, crossing her arms and ankles as she looked thoughtfully at the ceiling as if collecting her thoughts. Finally, she asked, “Are you still willing to try to sing my songs?”
“As long as you’re willing to teach me.”
Layne tapped a finger to her chin while thinking, again reminding me of an adorable anime character.
She looked cuter today. She wasn’t wearing that hideous band polo. Instead she had on a pair of overalls and a tight yellow t-shirt. The girl had curves under all the baggy clothes she normally wore. I wanted to ask her why she never flaunted them, but something told me Layne wouldn’t take that as a compliment, so I kept my mouth shut.
Besides, I wasn’t supposed to be looking for attractive qualities, just a distraction. Although, cute girls were my favorite distraction . . .
Layne spoke, cutting off my dirty thoughts. “We could call Lola. She knows the songs. Maybe she could sing them through once, so you get the idea.”
I cleared my throat. “Sure, that could work.”
Chapter Eleven
Layne
Back in the practice room I felt a familiar calm settle over me as I plucked a guitar from its stand. I pulled out my phone while Wyatt examined the sheet music I’d set on the music stand. He squinted his eyes at it like it was a foreign language. Which to him, I guess it was.