Breakthrough

After destroying our lunch on the grill, Nate and I ended up ordering out for an early dinner. After devouring the entire pepperoni and cheese pizza, Nate remained in the living room, returning a few phone calls he had ignored throughout the day while I took a shower. When I joined him a little bit later, he sat by the newly-lit fire he had just made as he held the borrowed guitar from Mr. Whethers in his hands.

"Are you going to play me something?" I asked with a grin as I began to sit down next to him while giving him an impromptu kiss on the lips.

"What was that for?" he asked happily.

"Giving you an incentive to play," I said, pointing to the guitar.

He looked down at the instrument in his hands and then back at me.

"Oh, then I should've been the one kissing you. You're going to play something for me," he said mysteriously as he handed me the guitar.

"I told you I don't have anything solid to share right now," I replied, slightly defensive and caught off guard.

"Then play our song," he said, surprising me just a bit.

"Why would I do that? The last time, didn't go so well," referring to the debut at the high school.

"We've heard it on the radio a bunch of times, I can take it."

"In person is different, it's not the same thing," I said, shaking my head hoping he would just drop the suggestion.

I wasn't that lucky. We settled the matter, like we did when we were kids. A good-old round of rock, paper, scissors. As I revealed my paper to his scissors, I immediately knew he defeated me and I'd lost.

Reluctantly, I found myself placing the guitar in my hands, not really knowing how the performance would play out. In the beginning of the song, my voice sounded a little pitchy from being under pressure. As I played the melody, I closed my eyes and fell into a rhythm.

When I sang the last lyric, "Honestly, Tell Me The Truth," and strummed the last chord, I finally opened my eyes and glanced over at him. We stared at one another, both not knowing what the other was thinking, a common theme during our reunion that never seemed to be a problem when we were simply best friends.

"What made you write that song?" he asked sincerely, breaking the silence.

"You know why?"

"Well, tell me again," he said assertively.

I took another second to really think about his question.

"I mean, I guess the short answer was anger. I was upset with you for leaving me, and when my mom passed away, I was angry you weren't there."

"So...aren't you angry again?" he asked.

"At you?" I said, totally and utterly confused.

"No, at the people who are assuming the worst about you. The ones who call you awful names all over social media. Don't you have something to say to them?" he asked with passion in his voice.

"Yeah, I do, but I don't know..."

My voice trailed off.

"You were willing to hurt me, but you don't want to hurt the haters out there that don't even know you?"

I had no answer to Nate's question.

Over the course of the weekend where we spent most of the time just being Nate and Nick, l tried to find the answer. I still came up with nothing.

I woke up that Monday morning to Nate softly nibbling at my ear. As I opened my eyes, he slid his hand under my tank top and started to slowly caress my stomach. I couldn't help but enjoy the, "wakeup call."  After taking turns exploring one another's body, Nate sadly left me alone in bed while he showered for school.

After he dressed for the day, Nate reminded me of the change in his schedule. His coaching duties would occupy more of his time. With the first game quickly approaching, practices were automatically extended one-hour. I felt disappointed and really bummed at the thought of the extra time I'd be alone in the house, but I did have a renewed sense of purpose. My only goal was to lockdown at least a melody, or more importantly, some combination of lyrics for a new song.

Nate leaned down to say goodbye to me for the day, his warm lips touched mine. My heart melted, every kiss felt like the first one in the treehouse. He seemed content and happy, flashing his dimple which made my body tingle allover. He walked towards the door and enthusiastically spun around to look back at me still in his bed.

"I love you, Nick," he said with a genuine and pure tone.

"Love you, too," I said, secretly yearning for him to join me in bed again.

As he walked out the door and out of my sight, I felt empty and lost without him in the house.

I decided I couldn't procrastinate anymore. I stayed in my pajamas as I walked to the living room with my guitar and writing supplies. As I turned the corner, I glanced over at the fireplace and noticed something new sitting so perfectly on the mantel above. Somehow without me knowing, Nate had displayed the carved wood piece from the treehouse, front and center, as a focal point for me to see.

Seeing our initials and the word, FOREVER, instantly woke me up from the brain fog that had infiltrated my mind. I knew the answer to Nate's question. Deep down, I didn't want to write a song. My stalling tactics were for one reason, I didn't want to lose what I had just found. Nate and I were finally together, why would I want to leave and go back to Nashville without him?

When I discovered the displayed piece from our past, I realized it didn't matter where we were, the treehouse, Nate's house, or somewhere else. Our deep connection was ingrained into our souls, just like our initials were permanently carved out of the wood. It didn't matter if I wrote a hit song or a song that tanked my career. Nate and I were in this for the long haul together.

My thoughts started to become clearer as I reached for my guitar. The chords flowed differently, more authentic and natural. I was less afraid about sending the wrong message and more focused on what I knew was true. I blocked the noise out, mainly all the haters who judged me on the outside. Instead, I focused on what led me to be there in Nate's living room at that exact moment.

I flipped to a fresh page in the notebook, clear from confusion and worry. My pencil seemed to move freely on the page. I felt invigorated and inspired as I felt more driven than the previous days. The melody and lyrics blended together perfectly, sending goose bumps down my spine.

I wrote more than half the song in five hours while sitting on Nate's couch without coffee or food, even though I felt like I was on some kind of caffeine high. I felt a weight had been lifted. I wasn't going to worry about what was next or how the song would be perceived. Like my mother said, "It is, what it is," and that was my truth.

I kept looking at the clock, counting down the hours until Nate would come home, but my impatience wore me down. I needed to share my enormous breakthrough with someone, and that someone was him.

I changed into jeans and a sweatshirt, grabbed my good-old baseball hat, and headed out the door. The walk to the school was not a quick or easy one. I had to dodge multiple kids on bikes, a couple joggers, and an annoying power-walker who thought I was not going fast enough.

Through my long walk, I held my head down focused on the pavement. With my head covered and my hair up in a ponytail, I blended in pretty well with suburbia. Nate and Lily would've killed me if you they knew I was taking this type of risk, but I felt like the venture out to the school was not that big of a deal.  Everyone was too busy in their own little world to be bothered to look up and recognize me.

Finally, the school came into view off in the distance. I bounded up the hill behind the bleachers towards the football field. When I made it to the top, I saw fully-padded football players stretching out at one end of the field with no sign of Nate. As I walked under the bleachers, I tried looking over to the other side of the field, but my sight was hindered by the metal structure. I walked a few steps further, still sheltered by the stands, and then I finally saw him.

At first, I wasn't sure it was Nate until he smiled and his dimple basically shot a flare out, clearly identifying him. Confusion set in, I didn't know what was happening or what I was watching.

Nate stood on the other side of the field surrounded by well-known paparazzi with their cameras and lights. He didn't appear phased one bit as he chatted and laughed with the them, almost like he was enjoying the spotlight with all eyes on him. I froze, unable to move as I watched the spectacle unfold.