there? Itâs her song. I just sang it. But she wrote it.â
âWell, come on over!â Jackson Phillips said, motioning with his mic.
Josie wanted to walk up and say, âCelebrate what? Your thievery and deception and total betrayal?â But she didnât. Instead, she sheepishly shuffled forward, her feet heavy as bricks.
Peter extended his right hand, said, âNice to meet you,â and shook her hand. His large hand swallowed hers. His grip was firm but soft. Like a mattress you just want to sleep on forever. Their eyes locked.
As their hands stuck together, Peterâs dad picked up his ringing cell phone. âBobby here,â he answered, stepping out.
If there ever was a time that Josie wished she wasnât a nervous palm sweater, that she wasnât a chicken, this was it. Peter, all six feet of him, stared right into her eyes for what seemed like forever. But, in fact, it was less than two seconds. Still, she had to look away. It was like staring at the sun.
Eyes so bright, stomach so tight
No words can describe your light
âUh, nice to meet you, too,â she said, pulling back her hand. Nonetheless, Peter gently squeezed it and pulled her toward him.
âJosie is a huge fan of yours,â Ashley butted in. âLike, the hugest. For real. I couldnât have done it without her. Sheâs a songwriter.â
As Peter clutched her hand, her tension suddenly melted awayâfrom her hand, then arm, shoulders, chest, stomach, legs, and feet. It was more soothing than any pill sheâd ever taken, including the Xanax her shrink had given her for anxiety when she was thirteen and that she had quickly flushed down the toilet because it had made her want to puke and, worst of all, made her mind so mushy she couldnât write any songs.
Just when Josie, now squinting her eyes as if she had accidentally just seen her mom making out with her boyfriend or something, thought the overwhelming moment had ended, she felt two hands press against her backâone in the middle of her shoulder blades and the other, more memorably, on the small of her back. A boy had never touched her there like that. Bythe feel of the blood rushing into every part of her body, she definitely didnât want it to be the last time either.
Unsure how to react to his unexpectedly affectionate hug, Josie looked down at the floor, averting awkward eye contact. Her heart had been racing, but once he touched her back it was as if someone had injected her with Novocain. Her body no longer tingled, and for the first time since Ashley was crowned the âwinnerâ two minutes ago, Josie could feel her feet touching the floor again.
Josie glared at Ashley, who shrugged a sorry.
Peter, oblivious to the drama unfolding before him, smiled as he gently released Josieâs right hand.
âSheâs a great songwriter,â Ashley told him. âI wanted this to be her surprise fifteenth birthday present. A secret present.â
âWell, ladies, luckily thereâs no rule against singing someone elseâs song, as long as it is an original,â Jackson explained. âYouâre still the winner, donât worry. Make that winners!â
As Ashley bounced up and down, Peter looked askance at Josie. He wrinkled his forehead in thought. âWait a second,â Peter said. âWere you also at my show last night?â
âYeah.â
âThis might sound hard to believe, but I actually saw you. In that âMusic Is My Boyfriendâ T-shirt, right?â
âIndeed.â
Indeed? Oh, geez. What kind of dork says âindeedâ?
Peter laughed. âDefinitely the best shirt Iâve seen on the tour.â
Josie blushed and looked downward. âThanks.â
âSo are you on Twitter?â
âObviously.â
âWhatâs your name? Iâll look for you.â
Josie leaned in to him.
âMusicLuvr,â she whispered.
Peter flashed a
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