Everyone has a song that captures who they are. No one but Leila Gonzalez can hear them.
Melodies and tunes fill her head everywhere she goes, and all she wants is to replicate them in her songwriting. There's just one problem: she sucks at songwrit...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"YOU KNOW, I DON'T think this'll be that bad," Neil said.
Leila lied down facing the gazebo's ceiling. A bird's nest poked out from one of the wood beams and a tiny bird flew right into it. "You're not the one that's gonna have to sing in front of hundreds of people."
"True."
Neil agreed to do backing vocals, but it was clear that he wasn't vocalist material. Like he said over and over again: he was more about the music, the guitar, than anything else. While Leila enjoyed singing, she couldn't say she had the best voice—she was average on a good day. But Neil didn't care.
"So...how far along are we?" He asked.
She groaned and turned over to her notebook. The first verse stared back at her with its smudged edges and dull words. Everything she forced out didn't seem right.
Driving past your mistakes Stop signs dressed in green lights Everyone waved those red flags But I thought they cheered me on as I crashed into you
"This sucks," Leila groaned. "Why are we even being this melodramatic?"
Neil laughed. "You can always re-write the verse using the melody." He played the tune he created on the spot: an almost haunting flow that got higher by the second. She had recorded it into her phone to reference later. "I'm getting hungry though. Wanna get burgers?"
He said it so nonchalantly, she nodded without even thinking. Then she realized the implications. She'd be seen with Neil Ferrer around. What would the people say? It was bad enough that she was out there at the edge of Hillbourne alone with him, but going all around town would definitely come back to bite her later.
Nevertheless, she followed him back to his pick-up truck, letting him carry her guitar case along with his own. They reversed out of the calming location, and they were off.
The truck bumped into many dips and small potholes in the dirt road as they drove back. Neil turned on the radio as a punk rock track blared through the speakers. She leaned against the window and closed her eyes.
For someone who was tainted with rumors of misconduct, Neil proved to be the most patient guy she had ever met—incredibly relaxed and down to earth.
She almost lulled to sleep when the truck came into a screeching halt. A involuntary gasp fell from her lips as Neil leaned out his window and slapped a person's arm from another truck.
Chills ran down her spine as realized who it was. Flynn Easton, leader and main vocalist of The Heights, drove in a more polished truck. His dark blue eyes glistened in the afternoon sunlight as he smirked at Neil. The guitar-shredding rock song blared inside her mind as he set his jaw. But that wasn't the only song mingling around.
An intense drum solo battled with Flynn's song, and soon, lyrics of unspeakable vices filled her head. Movement caught her eye from their trunk, and who she recalled as Ace Crawford, the drummer, leaned against the top of truck, hand under his chin in mock thought. His tan skin looked molten under the sun, and that cheeky barely there grin spoke volumes about who he was. Leila's stomach somersaulted, and if Neil heard the rearrangement of her organs, she would so blame it on hunger and not on anything else.
"Neil, my man!" Flynn tilted his head to the side to meet her gaze. "And who do we have here?" Neil turned to her and glanced back to his bandmate.
"Guys, this is Leila," he introduced. From beside Flynn, the last of the members poked his head out: Mason Lieu, bass player. Leila then understood the mid-tempo alternative rock track lingering in the background. "I'm teaching her at my uncle's shop."
Flynn nodded. "A little far from the shop, aren't ya?"
Leila flushed at the insinuation.
"It's not like that, Flynn," Neil explained. The grave tone in his voice almost disappointed her. "We were getting ready actually."
"Ready for what?" Ace asked from above with a cock of his thick eyebrow. She shivered in her seat.
"We're performing at the music fest," Neil announced. "Together," he added for good measure.
Both Flynn and Ace had similar expressions, like they wanted to laugh at Neil's revelation. Mason nodded as if impressed with the news.
"Well, you sure make yourself busy when you're on break," Flynn commented. Leila tried to remain unfazed, but her eyebrows furrowed. Neil was on break? "Let's hope Jax doesn't blow up to this new piece of information."
Neil sighed as Flynn's grin widened. Leila winced as the rock song gained intensity in her head. The lyrics boomed around, celebrating victory.
"Maybe Jax will be happy to see that I'm not a 'royal screw-up' as he said," Neil counteracted. Flynn looked about ready to say something else, chest heaving, when Mason placed a hand over his shoulder, successfully shutting him up. The rock song mixed in with the mid-tempo alternative rock from Mason, jarring her at the fight for dominance.
"Hope it doesn't end like last time, Ferrer," Ace said.
"It won't," Neil deadpanned. His voice darkened at the last syllable, and Leila clutched at her phone and hugged it to her chest.
"We have places to be, guys," Mason spoke up for the first time. Leila turned to see his fluffy hair bouncing on top of his head as he directed himself to both Flynn and Ace in the trunk. "Neil, it was nice to see you."
Neil nodded at him. They mumbled their goodbyes, and Flynn pressed on the gas, leaving a puff of dirt in their wake. Leila coughed as the remnants entered the truck.
"They seem fun," she said after a brief moment of silence.
He chuckled. "Never trust any of them. Now, shall we go get those burgers I promised?"
Leila fanned off the remains of the dirt cloud and nodded. Neil didn't say anything else as they sped off back into the city, away from the other members of The Heights.
