started with a lie ➳ raura revised

Chapter Fourteen

The first thing I notice when I wake up is the empty space next to me. Where's Ross? I run my hands over the empty space—my hands getting caught in the tangled sheets. He really shouldn't be out of bed: he's sick. 

Groaning, I get out of bed. I don't want to get out of bed, though. I mean, who would leave the warmth of the socovers just to get out in the freezing outside. I must've fallen asleep at some point during the movie. 

I suddenly hear a guitar playing. 

I wrap my sweatshirt around me tighter as I make my way to the living room. The tune gets louder. Is Ross playingguitar? That seems so... weird. To confirm my thought, I tiptoe into the living room where Ross's sitting—his back to me—and his fingers strumming the guitar while he slowly sings.

 "Everything that don't make sense about me, makes sense when I'm with you," Ross sings. I think I know this song. It'sso familiar. I try to place the thought. Ross continues singing.

 "I wanna wrap you up, wanna kiss your lips, I... wanna make you feel wanted," he sings. "I wanna call you mine,wanna hold your hand forever. Never let you forget it."

 And then I know.

 Wanted by Hunter Hayes—one of my ultimate favorite songs. 

I must've made some sort of noise because Ross stops mid-way through a word. The guitar stops and he turns to me,his eyes widening. I take a step back—as if I can still hide so he can keep playing because honestly, his voice is actuallygood. 

"What're you doing?" Ross asks, narrowing his eyes down at me. "When did you get here?" I think he's moreembarrassed than mad. His cheeks are turning a bit red.

 "J-Just now," I stutter. He gets up with his guitar and heads to his room to put it away. I follow him. "You sing reallygood, you know?" 

Ross puts his guitar in his closet before turning to me. I expect him to say something close to, "I know," but he actuallysays, "Thanks." I'm taken back. Ross has manners? Since when? 

He heads to the kitchen. The orange, afternoon shine is radiating the room. I bet it's around three. That means Imust've slept more than two hours. Ross makes himself a sandwich. "Want one?" 

"Yeah," I reply as I take a seat. "Hey, why didn't you wake me up?" 

"What do you mean?"

 "I slept over a couple hours, and you were sick. Something could've happened to you while I was asleep," I argue. 

"I'm not even that sick anymore. The fever's gone down and all I have is a cough and a couple of sneezes. Stopworrying. If anything, you're acting like my girlfriend," Ross says nonchalantly. It doesn't affect him but it makes my heartpound a little faster. 

"Whatever." I try to sound cool as possible. "So, when'd you learn guitar? I didn't take you for a sensitive type of guywho played guitar."  

"Well, before I had to take over the business, I wanted to be a guitarist. I even had a band in college. It was amazing. Acouple of my friends and me started up our own band and we had gigs."

 I've never seen Ross so excited talking about something. And then I remember he's twenty. He was pushed into the realworld faster than anyone else. He was pushed into business—without choice or consent—but just because he had to. Hehad to give up everything for his family.

 It was something I probably never would've had the guts to do. 

"What was the name of your band?" I ask, intrigued. I rest my face on the palm of my hand as Ross continues makingus sandwiches.