“Hate? Oh, no.”

  “What I hate about it is that it doesn’t sound like you at all. I’ve only heard you talk and hum, but your voice is so distinct I can’t even put it into words. And none of that was there. If you ask me, the problem is not you; it’s whoever tried to force you into a corset that was never meant for you.”

  “That’s what you think?” His chest rose as his breathing got heavier. “That’s… Thank you so fucking much. That’s exactly what I thought, too! Sure, the song is boring, but what they did to my voice was unforgivable.” He stared at me, his breathing loud in the quiet air. “Alex, I… Can I tell you a secret?” His eyes pierced me as if he were trying to see if he could trust me.

  “My lips are sealed.”

  “My whole family thinks the label dropped me, but… I was the one who walked away. When I heard what they’d done to my voice…” He shook his head. “I hated it so much. Even though it was my song, I didn’t want my name attached to it. So, I told the producer what I really thought when he asked me. He said it didn’t matter as long as it sold, and if I wasn’t ready to go through with it, I should say so now.” He swallowed. “So, I did. I backed out. I’ll never forget the look on everyone’s faces, but… I couldn’t pretend this was who I was.” He pulled his phone out again. “This here is the demo that got me into the room with them in the first place.”

  He pressed play. A single electric guitar strummed the same chords we had heard earlier, poorly recorded but played with more grit. After the short intro, the vocals came in, and the difference was like night and day. The voice actually sounded like him. Sure, the recording was rough, but his magic still reached me.

  I got goosebumps.

  He turned off the song after the chorus. “It’s still a crappy song, but it at least felt like me, you know?”

  “It also sounded like you, and I mean that in the best way.” Our eyes met. “I stand by what I said. You’ve got a beautiful voice.”

  Silence stretched between us as we both couldn’t stop staring at each other.

  “I have to admit,” he added, “after hearing your track earlier, I’m curious to hear more from you, too.”

  “Say no more.” I got my phone ready and pulled out the pair of in-ear headphones I always carried in case I needed to drown out noise. I held them up to him. “Here.”

  “Headphones?” As he took them, our fingers brushed, sending a jolt through my body. “Wow. We’re getting fancy.”

  “First impressions matter.”

  I wanted him to hear the songs properly. If he didn’t like them, I didn’t want to blame my phone’s speakers later.

  He put one earpiece in and held the other out to me. “Share?”

  “I know my songs inside and out, and they’re mixed for surround features, so you take both.”

  “Can’t argue with that,” he replied, sliding the second earpiece in and nodding toward my phone. “I’m ready.”

  I scrolled through my personal playlist until I found the track we had used for the video. I was eager to see how Sebastian would react. He had no idea what he was in for. The part Nicholas used came from a break two-thirds of the way in, where the tempo and style change completely. The song actually opened with a string quartet before evolving into a danceable pop anthem with techno influences.

  “Tell me if it’s too loud,” I said and pressed play.

  “Volume’s perfect,” he murmured a second later, all the muscles in his face working hard not to give away that the strings had caught him off guard.

  Sebastian’s eyes stayed on the ground while mine stayed on him. I could faintly hear the strings playing in his ears. After spending hours fine-tuning them, I knew exactly what he was hearing. The strings climbed to a high note, then dropped like a ship riding a sudden current—and the beat kicked in.

  Twenty seconds later, his right foot tapped along. His breathing synced with the rhythm, and after another fifteen seconds, his head started bobbing, too.

  I sometimes cursed my hypersensitive ears, but in that moment, I was grateful. I could exactly tell which part he was listening to. The beat had moved through the first bridge and carried him to the second rise, marking the start of the vocals I still needed to record. For now, I had used a guitar in their stead.

  When it hit, Sebastian’s whole face lit up. “Whoa.” His eyes snapped to mine, totally mesmerized. “This is legit,” he said, a little too loudly.

  As the song hit its third chorus, he closed his eyes and let his shoulders sway along. His jacket rustled, but I tuned it out the second the thing I had secretly hoped for happened: his deep, enchanting voice began humming the melody I had written.

  The sound rippled through me, from my head to my toes, before settling low in my chest.

  No one’s voice has ever affected me like that. It made me want to write songs, albums, entire symphonies about him, for him, with him. It made me want to press my ear to his chest and listen for the quiet sounds not meant for anyone who wasn’t his chosen person—the ones that I shouldn’t even imagine.

  My gaze drifted lower.

  His bulge had lifted slightly, though not nearly as much as mine. Because damn. Just listening to him hum turned me on in ways it absolutely shouldn’t have, making me harder than I’d been in a long time.

  “Wait.” He blinked his eyes open. “This is the track from the video!”

  I forced my gaze away and nodded.

  When the song ended, he sat up and grinned at me. “You’re incredible,” he said, pulling the earpieces out. “This is the kind of music I’d expect to hear on the radio or in concert halls.”

  “I’m not nearly that good,” I muttered, lowering my head. “It’s also missing vocals. I tried recording a demo myself, but it was awful. My voice is garbage.”

  “You don’t have to downplay it. Even without vocals, this is gold. If my music had sounded anything like that, I might’ve kept singing.” He scooted closer, already eyeing my phone. “You’ve got more files on there, haven’t you? Can I be shameless and ask to hear another one?”

  He crossed his legs, his knee brushing against mine, and leaned in so we could look at the screen together. His breath tickled my hand as I scrolled through the list, searching for something that could live up to the last track.

  And then, for no clear reason, he leaned into me.

  There was no more space left between us.

  I had tried not to read too much into the little things before, but this wasn’t subtle. He was enjoying this. And I wasn’t about to pull away, either.

  For the next half hour, I played him song after song. The more he heard, the more animated he became. Every time, he hummed along, making it nearly impossible for me to think straight. With him now also sitting so close, I could hear everything: the steady rhythm of his breathing, the subtle shifts when a beat surprised him, the quiet swipe of his tongue across his lips just before he started humming again.

  During the fourth song, I lost all restraint and stared blatantly at him as he shook his head to the beat. The glow of my phone lit his face in the dark, casting soft shadows that highlighted his features. He was so lost in the music that he didn’t even notice me watching for half a minute.

  But when he finally did, I couldn’t force myself to look away again.

  My eyes dropped to his lips.

  All I could think about were things that could—and probably should—never happen: what it would sound like if he sang one of my songs for real, what it would be like if he lived here and we could talk for days and weeks, not just hours, and worst of all, what his lips tasted like.

  He pulled out the left earpiece and chuckled. “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Your stare says a lot more than nothing.”

  “I’m just flattered to hear you hum along.”

  The smile faded as he furrowed his brows. “Humming?”

  “You didn’t notice?”

  “I was?” He laughed it off. “See what your music does to me? It took me so far out of my head I didn’t even notice what I was doing.” He winked, and my heart skipped a beat. “You’re amazing, you know that? It actually makes me reconsider my vow never to sing again. Maybe I’ll make an exception for you.”

  My pulse quickened. “Don’t mess with me.”

  “I’m not! I’m seriously thinking about it. As long as you don’t tell anyone, I guess there’d be no harm.”

  “You’re kidding!”

  “I can be an asshole,” he said, “but I don’t joke about other people’s talent and dreams.” He looked at me a few seconds longer, then threw his head back and groaned. “Oh fuck it. If you want it, my voice is yours.”

  “You’re kidding!” I repeated, unable to believe it. My whole body tingled.

  “I’m not!” He shot back, matching my volume. “I want to know what these songs sound like with vocals, too. It just has to wait until I’m home and have the apartment to myself. Because anything I record will be for your ears only. If you’re okay with that, we have a deal.”

  “I could kiss you… just for considering that.” The words slipped out before I could stop them.

  His head snapped forward as he processed what I had said. Then a grin spread across his lips, his teeth catching the glow of my phone screen. “Kiss me, huh?”

  “Oh, uh.” Damn. Stupid mouth. “I meant it as a figure of speech.”

  “Sure.” He nodded, exaggerated and teasing. “You know…that’s too bad. I actually wouldn’t have said no to a kiss from you.”

  “Well, now you’re joking.” He had to be.

  My heart raced. He was still so close we were practically snuggling.

  “Actually, I’m not.” He licked over his lips, pulling them in briefly. His nose wrinkled as he inhaled deeply. “But it’s a bad idea, isn’t it?”

  I swallowed and stretched my legs out in front of me. “So bad,” I whispered, yet still turned fully toward him.

  Our eyes locked.

  The cocky grin that had adorned his face until now faded, replaced by a more serious look.

  His lips parted.

  His right hand crept forward and tapped my thigh.

  We both looked down at it.

  “Maybe…” he said softly, his voice low enough to make me shiver. “Maybe I don’t care how bad an idea it is.” His hand settled against my thigh. “What about you?”

  I closed my eyes.

  The loud, rapid drumming of my heartbeat was so overwhelming, I had to shut out the world to survive it.

  Was my heart racing because he agreed to sing my song—or because he just asked to kiss me?

  “Maybe,” I whispered back. “Maybe I don’t care either.”

  SIX

  THE SONG OF TWO GUYS IN THE MOUNTAINS

  SEBASTIAN

  The town’s lights twinkled down in the valley, mirroring the stars in the night sky above.

  Alex’s eyes blinked open. Glancing at my lips, he made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a whimper. His left hand found mine, clutching my fingers super softly at first, then a little too tightly. He tipped his head forward, but stopped with two inches still between our mouths.

  “Are these two conditional?” Alex whispered. “Recording vocals and… this?”

  “I already agreed to sing for you. I’ll stand by my word. If that’s the only thing you want, then⁠—”

  “It’s definitely not the only thing I want.” His thumb dug into my hand. His chest trembled as he breathed.

  “But?”

  “There is no ‘but.’ Not really.”

  “Let’s just keep the two things separate?” I asked.

  He lifted his gaze. “Yeah.”

  The drum inside my body picked up its pace. I leaned a little closer, and so did he, tilting his head slightly. The darkness shielded us from the rest of the world, yet he was so close I could still see everything: his slender nose, his upper lip slightly fuller than the lower, the tiny movements of his eyes as they took me in with curiosity.

  We both let out quick breaths, the corners of our lips tugging up at the same time. I nudged myself even closer, waited another second to see if he would reciprocate, but when he closed his eyes, I finally pressed my mouth to his.

  For the first few seconds, our lips lingered, almost perfectly still, as warmth spread between us. Then they moved, carefully, to find the right position.

  His fingers tapped against my hand. On a hunch, I flipped it over, and was promptly rewarded when he laced our fingers together.

  My jacket brushed against his hoodie, the rustle underscoring the soft smacks of our mouths as they shifted again and again. I parted my lips and let him in. Our breaths ebbed and flowed in sync as our tongues met. It was almost like a song of its own—the song of our first kiss. And it tasted like lemonade.

  The house lay silent against the backdrop of the starry night. Not a single sound from the party reached us as we walked up the steps to the porch. Only our footsteps echoed through the night.

  Even though it was only seven o’clock, it was time to head back inside. We had been gone for almost an hour, which was more time than I had spent with anyone else so far, and I didn’t want to push everyone’s patience any further. Sure, I would have rather spent the rest of the evening getting to know him better, but that would have drawn too much scrutiny. While I was used to it, he didn’t need that. He wasn’t leaving tomorrow. He didn’t have anywhere else to call home. It was better not to get too close to the edge.

  The foyer was even quieter than the front yard. The gentle click of the door closing made me turn toward Alex. I quickly glanced around to make sure no one was around and stepped before him, kissing him again.

  It was supposed to be a quick peck—a brief reprise of what had happened ten minutes earlier—but the kiss lasted half a minute. My fingers found his hips. His hands stayed behind his back, braced against the door, but he still kissed me back so eagerly that I had to be the one to pull away.

  “Sorry,” Alex whispered. “I had to use the opportunity.”

  “Just wait until tonight when we’re sharing a room. Assuming the offer to crash with you still stands.”

  He pressed his lips together, biting back a grin. “It does.” His gaze dropped to the floor for a moment, as if there was something on his tongue he couldn’t quite say, but then he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me in for another kiss, one even more passionate than the last. His right hand crawled up my chest and stopped short of my neck. Then, with a sly smile, he pushed me back. “Let’s save something for later, then. You should go back to your family.”

  “And you?”

  He pointed upstairs. “I’ll get your bed ready.” His hand brushed over my waist as he walked past me toward the staircase. At the bottom step, he gave me a quick wave and said, “I’ll meet you at the party in a bit,” before heading upstairs.

  I stood there a moment longer, listening to his footsteps fade. I wished I could have followed him. He was the reason I could finally enjoy being here. If it weren’t so ridiculous to meet someone like him at my freaking family reunion, I’d think fate had something to do with it.

  But it wasn’t like this could turn into anything more. I still lived two thousand miles away. This was nothing more than us giving in to spring fever.

  Besides, I couldn’t spend the entire evening with him. The right thing to do was to mingle with my family. After all, that was why I had come to Seastone.

  So I forced myself out of the foyer and strode through the kitchen toward the back door.

  Mom, Dad, and Mila fell silent the second I stepped into the backyard. They sat shoulder to shoulder on the bench beneath the remodeled barn’s canopy. Soft light streamed from the party room, casting the dancing shadows of the people inside across their backs.

  The fairy lights draped across the cherry tree in the middle of the yard glowed softly, filling the garden with a warmth the place had been missing for years. Why hadn’t we put them up when I still lived here?

  “If it isn’t the lost brother and son,” Mila called out, patting the small empty spot on the bench beside her.

  “Hey, guys,” I said, walking over under their watchful eyes. I stopped a few feet away. “Beautiful night, isn’t it?”

  “Indeed,” Mom agreed, pulling her white knit jacket tighter around her shoulders. “How was your outing with Alex?”

  A gentle breeze played around my neck, sending a shiver up my spine.

  “Relaxed,” I replied. “He had a headache from all the noise, so I offered to keep him company.”

  “That poor guy,” Mom said. “This must’ve been a lot for him. We’re not exactly the quietest bunch.”

  “I was surprised he spent so much time with us,” Mila agreed.

  “He’s kind of a masochist sometimes,” Mom laughed, then glanced back at me. “But it’s nice that you accompanied him. I always thought you two would get along.”

  “They certainly have enough in common,” Dad muttered. His head was turned toward Mom, but his eyes flicked to me.

  “He told me about the prank you two were involved in a couple of years ago,” I said. “The one where you chased those guys from the gas station through the woods?”

  “Oh my god,” all three of them shouted at once.

  “That was so creepy,” Mom laughed, nudging Dad with her shoulder. “You and that fake mustache, I mean.”

  “What about Alex? That mask looked so freaking real,” Dad said, wrapping his arm around Mom’s shoulders. “Do you still remember how scared he was to pretend to stab me? The knife was rubber. It couldn’t have hurt a fly. But he was still so hesitant until you showed him how to do it.”

  Mom grinned at him. “You liked that, didn’t you?”

  “I can’t deny that it was one of our weirder moments, but I still cherish the memory of you pretending to stab me.”

  “Please!” Mila yelled, covering her ears and making a face. “I don’t need to hear any more.”

  “What?” Dad chuckled more freely than I had heard him in years. “Parents can be weird, too.”