play, the books we read, our acerbic sense of humor—that we often haven’t discussed the ways we’re different. But the lyrics of “Bruise” paint a picture he’s never seen up close.
“So what do we need to do to make that happen?” Bristol has shifted from any sentimentality she felt for the song to battle plan, figuring out how to make it happen at this late date.
Rhyson and I break down every step we must go through to get the song on the album in time. She doesn’t blink, but Sarah scribbles frantically, jotting it all down.
“It’ll happen.” She looks at Rhyson and Max before her eyes land on me. “I promise I’ll get it on there in time.”
This is what I keep falling for over and over. Bristol is passionate and determined, one of those rare people who never accepts no for the ones she cares about. And whether or not she wants to admit it, she cares about me a hell of a lot.
We listen to three more songs. Bristol loves them all, but she likes everything I write. I’m not being conceited. I can’t think of one song or poem I’ve ever shared with her that she didn’t love.
“We need to nail this last song down.” Rhyson glances at his watch. “And quick. Kai has an ultrasound today, and I’d much rather see my baby than go through eight more songs when we only need one.”
He points to Bristol, his look only half playful. “You get no say this time, Bris.”
“What?” She frowns and pushes out her bottom lip a little. “Why not?”
“Because you love everything Grip writes,” he says matter-of- factly. “You’re no help. We’ll be here all day.”
Her eyes flick to mine and then down to her iPad. She knows it’s true. I’ve never been more certain of anything than I am that Bristol cares deeply about me. I wasn’t guessing last night when I said she watches me. She does. I know she wants me, but a lot of girls do. None of them care about me the way Bristol does, though. The same bottomless devotion she has for her brother, for her few close friends—hell, even for her mother, who doesn’t deserve it, she has for me. She hides it in friendship and excuses it with business, but every time I catch her looking, I know the truth.
“So I think I have the final song.” Rhyson starts tapping the iPad in front of him until the first strains of the track fill the conference room. A song I never meant anyone to hear.
“Oh, not that one.” I go into the shared folder, searching frantically for the file he’s playing so I can shut it down. “Rhys, not that one. Let’s not—”
“This one is the best option.” Rhyson tilts his head, a look of consternation on his face. “Can we just hear it?”
I don’t have to hear it. I know every word.
I fell for her before the beat dropped. Between the verses and
After rehearsal and
In sixteen bars I was intoxicated
After sixteen bars, me and her was faded
Had our first kiss on a Ferris wheel
We was on top of the world.
I’m on top of the world (When I love her)
Top of the World (When I hate her)
Top of the world
(When I take her or leave her)
With her I’m on the top of the world
I roll her up tight in my blunt paper
Inhale her like smoke, in my lungs she’s a vapor ‘Cause she always on the run
Making me hunt, making me chase
Making me run like it’s a race
Making me work like it’s my job
Even when she bottom she come out on top
She be on top of the world
I’m on top of the world (When I love her)
Top of the World (When I hate her)
Top of the world
(When I take her or leave her)
With her I’m on the top of the world
At the last note, Max starts a slow clap. Everyone around the table joins him. Everyone except Bristol, who stares blankly at the shiny conference room table.
Shit.
“I love it,” Max says. “Rhyson, you’re right. That’s it. Man, the lyrics are so clever. It’s infectious. Now that’s a hit.”
“And what’s the song you’re sampling?” Sarah asks. “Was it Prince?”
“Uh, yeah.” I clear my throat. “’I Wanna Be Your Lover.’”
“As soon as I heard it,” Rhyson says. “I knew it was the one. Maybe we should take this one to the wide release, too? Bristol, we should see—”
“If we’re done,” Bristol says abruptly, cutting off Rhyson’s suggestion. “I