Shape of My Life

by DC Renee

  “Oh God, Brooklyn, I’m so sorry.” I spoke as I set the book down and got up to pull Brook into a hug. Or was I sorry? I understood this tour, and her anxiety had triggered this, but she had something magical going on. So was I really sorry? I wasn’t actually sure. “Why didn’t you tell me about this? Or about the dream?”

  “I didn’t want to worry you, and writing seemed to help. I like it,” she admitted. “When I’m feeling antsy, it calms me down.”

  “Listen to me,” I said as I pulled back to look into her eyes. “If anything bothers you, it bothers me. If you have dreams or feelings or anything else, you tell me. I’m here for you.”

  “You were here for me when I had the nightmare,” she pointed out. “The other time wasn’t a big deal. And sometimes, I just get a little anxious. It’s understandable.”

  “Okay, but then why not share these lyrics with me?”

  “I was embarrassed,” she said, her voice so small.

  “Embarrassed?” I knew that came out louder than I intended. “Brooklyn, these are amazing.” I stepped back and scooped up the notebook. “You don’t even know what you have here, do you?” I didn’t let her answer. “Do you know how many people, how many musicians wish they could write a fraction of what you’ve written here? And I didn’t get to read everything. The emotions, the passion … I feel it. I feel it,” I repeated, my voice growing softer. “It’s remarkable … You’re remarkable.”

  I pulled her to me and kissed her softly. It was just a brush of our lips, but I needed to touch her at that moment. I needed to feel her lips against mine.

  She pulled back and looked into my eyes. I knew she was seeking the truth of my words, gauging me. I let her look; I let her see just how much I meant what I said.

  “They’re really good?” She sounded like a child needing her parents’ assurance. It almost broke my heart to know she hadn’t thought highly of herself and her ability.

  “No, Brooklyn, they’re fucking outstanding.”

  “You know just what to say when I need to hear it the most.”

  “I love you, Brooklyn. It’s my job to make sure you know how truly special you are. I think you’re getting there,” I told her, and then I smiled slyly. “But don’t worry, Brooklyn, I’ll make sure you believe it.”

  She laughed, and the sound vibrated through me, forcing my own smile to grow wider. “God, Grennan, I love you so much.”

  I held up the notebook and found the page I had originally turned to, the one about love with the cheesy heart around the lyrics. “This is about me?”

  She nodded slightly. “I wrote it after you comforted me from my nightmare; the night you told me you loved me.”

  “I should have told you a lot sooner.”

  “Then that makes two of us.” She grinned.

  “It’s okay.” I chuckled. “We’ll make up for it. I promise,” I added with a wink. Then I captured her mouth and showed her just how wonderful she was, just how much I was in awe of her, and just how much I loved her.

  Brooklyn

  The dreams were getting to me. Despite the first one that started my songwriting hobby and the big one that resulted in Grennan professing his love, I had plenty of other music-related dreams. Being on tour clearly invaded all my subconscious thoughts. Most of them were happy, though. I was in various stages of performing or writing or just singing to myself. A little rock star envy? Maybe fulfilling some secret desire to be the center of attention in a space where I wouldn’t start to panic?

  Sometimes, I wouldn’t really see anything in the dream; I would just feel the music surrounding me. Often times, I’d wake up and not remember the dream but know it was somehow related. They all had that strange aura about them as if they were different scenes in the same movie.

  Was it a little weird? Certainly. Annoying? Maybe a tad bit. But a bad thing? Not really. What was a bad thing were the dreams that were clearly part of the same sequence but left me feeling drained, horrified, and the worst—scared. Sometimes, I’d see a sinister face, and other times, I’d feel pain but not know the source. Many times, it was just a feeling of dread. They always related to the music dreams. When they’d start off, I could literally feel myself inside my dream, wondering if it would go in a positive direction or end with a feeling of unease.

  More often than not, Grennan would sleep right through it, but at times, I’d wake up, and he would stare at me with worry in his eyes. I’d brush him off, though, and tell him I was whimpering because it was a sex dream starring him. When he wouldn’t buy it, I’d distract him with … well, with me. I was afraid he’d treat me with kid gloves again, but he didn’t. I was thankful for that.

  “You sound tired,” Cassidy told me while we talked on the phone after I had woke up one night and couldn’t go back to sleep. Grennan had slept through my dream, and I got up and wrote, letting my feelings transfer onto the paper. My cheery, upbeat lyrics seemed to happen during the day; the more depressing ones were written at night.

  “I am,” I told her.

  “Did Grennan keep you up all night?” she teased.

  “I’m sticking my tongue out at you,” I told her, and we giggled. “You just can’t see it.”

  “Won’t Grennan be jealous you’re using your tongue on me?”

  “You’d think he would get front-row tickets for that show, but he probably would be jealous.” I chuckled.

  “Cody would be in the front row screaming encore,” she added.

  “For someone who denies liking Cody, you sure seem to bring him up a lot.”

  “Oh, shush, you.” I’d been teasing her about Cody for a while now. It was obvious he liked Cassidy. What was there not to like? She was stunning and empowering and could bring a man to his knees. And I was sure she had a little thing for him too, but neither would admit it. “Come on, it would be cute. You could be C-squared.” She didn’t find that funny. She also didn’t find it hilarious when I told her she could name their kids “E,” “Equals,” and “M,” and then they’d be the “E Equals M C-squared family.”

  “Back to you and Grennan,” she said. “Tell him he needs to let you sleep once in a while.” Her tone was teasing, but I caught a hint of seriousness in it.

  “Cass, it’s not his fault.” I felt the need to defend him.

  “Blame you for being so irresistible?” She laughed.

  “Exactly,” I responded with a laugh of my own. “No, seriously, though, I’ve been dreaming a lot lately, and sometimes, I wake up and can’t get back to sleep.”

  “What kind of dreams?” She grew concerned. I could hear it in her voice. I didn’t want to worry her, but I wanted to tell someone.

  “Nothing too crazy. I’m usually performing on stage or something. I guess this tour is rubbing off on me. They’re just kind of … I don’t really know how to describe them. They’re weird. I feel more as if I’m an outsider looking in rather than living inside the dreams. Like maybe I’m watching some play. Does that make sense? I’m talking crazy, huh?” I was rambling, but Cassidy was quiet, so I knew without a doubt that I was talking crazy. “Cass?” I said her name softly, kind of nervous about her reaction.

  “Oh, um, yeah, that is weird.” She sounded distant.

  “You busy or something?” I asked.

  “No, sorry, I just got sidetracked by work.”

  “Oh, okay. Want to call me later?” I asked. I wasn’t upset. I knew Cassidy was busy at odd hours. I wanted to talk to her, but I understood.

  “No, that’s fine. These dreams … Do you remember them? What happens in them?”

  “I guess they kind of remind me of kids playing dress up but in real life,” I tried to explain. “Like I said before, I’m usually singing on stage, performing like Grennan. Sometimes, I just sing. Other times, I’m rocking out. Do people even say that?” I chuckled. “Either way, I’m pretty much mimicking what I see Grennan do day in and day out, except I’m the star instead of him. Crazy, right? Especially with my anxiety. And I don’t sin
g.”

  Cassidy was silent for a few minutes as if she was trying to process my dreams for me. “It makes sense,” she said slowly. “People say dreams are manifestations of your real life, and since you watch Grennan perform practically every day, it’s only natural that you have dreams about it. And since dreams are part fantasy, you’re the singer instead of him.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I just wish they didn’t come so often or wake me up.”

  “Maybe it’s time for you to finish the tour?”

  “No way.” I even shook my head although no one was around to see that.

  “Then maybe just take a break from it all? Clear your head?”

  “Cass, I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Aside from the fact that I absolutely love Grennan and can’t comprehend being away from him right now?” I asked.

  “Yeah, yeah, aside from all that mushy stuff.”

  “It’s a lot of fun actually. And I have this feeling … like … I don’t know, but I feel as if I belong. It comes and goes when I’m missing you and my parents, but I like this crazy life. And as I said, there’s Grennan. God, I don’t know how I’m going to survive when this tour is done, and I go back home, and he goes back to New York. How did we do the long-distance thing before?”

  “You’ll figure that part out. But maybe a break from the tour will be good practice for when it’s over?”

  “I can’t,” I whispered softly.

  “You know me and my work. It’s crazy, it’s unpredictable sometimes, and I’m always jetting away from one place to another, but it’s hard. At least, I get to come home between traveling. You’re on a nonstop tour bus, for crying out loud. I can’t imagine how stressful that is. You’re strong for sticking with it, and you’ll be just as strong for walking away if you need to. You can do whatever you want, whatever you need, and I know Grennan will back you up. That boy would move heaven and earth for you if you asked. He might not like being separated, but he’ll do it.”

  “It’s not him, Cass, I promise. It’s me. I can’t leave this tour.”

  “I’m just worried about you.”

  “I know, but you don’t need to be. Like you said, I’m strong. I’ll survive this. It’s really not a big deal. I’m not even sure why I brought it up.”

  “Nuh-uh. You need to talk; I’m here. Always. Nothing is too small.”

  “I love you, Cass.”

  “Love you too, Brook.”

  After telling Cassidy about my dreams, I actually felt lighter. I thought about what she had said, about being strong, about taking a break from it all. Then I thought about Grennan and shook my head. I loved him. I loved him more than I could imagine, and I wasn’t going anywhere.

  Grennan

  Convincing Brooklyn that her lyrics should be heard was easy. I could have just told her point blank that her words were amazing and would be heard one way or another. She’d have listened, but I felt like she needed to be a part of this, or I’d feel like I was stealing her thoughts.

  “I want to play some of your songs,” I told her one day. Okay, so maybe I wasn’t too great at the whole “asking” part of the equation.

  “You what?” she asked.

  “I want to share what you’ve written with the guys, see what they think, even though I know they’re going to fucking love them, and then put some music behind them.”

  “You really want to do that?” she asked. Her voice was steady, but she was wringing her hands.

  “How do you not understand how talented you are?”

  “But I just started this,” she told me.

  “Then you have natural talent, Brooklyn. Be proud, not scared.”

  “I love you, Grennan, so whatever is mine is yours. If you really want to use my lyrics, go for it. I’m sure you’ll make them sound good. Heck, you can make ‘Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star’ sound good.” She chuckled, and so did I.

  “You sure? Let’s face it, I’m not going to drop this, but if you’re not sure, I can continue to convince you.” I waggled my eyebrows, and she laughed again.

  “Saying yes during sex doesn’t count as really saying yes,” she responded.

  “Says who?”

  “You’re impossible.”

  “Yes, but you love me,” I told her as I wrapped her in my arms.

  “I do, Grennan, I really do. And that’s why I trust you. If you want my lyrics, they’re yours.”

  “I was kind of hoping you’d need some more convincing,” I teased.

  “Like you need a reason to get me naked.”

  “Good point.”

  Then I got her naked. And if she wasn’t sure before, she sure as hell was then.

  Afterward, I got out of bed, put on some shorts, grabbed her notebook, and walked out of the room.

  “You want to tell them now?” she asked, her wide-eyed expression too cute for words.

  “No time like the present.”

  “Grennan.” She hissed my name through her teeth.

  “Hey guys, I need to show you something,” I called out and turned back to see Brook pull the covers over her head. I smiled.

  “What’s up?” Gavin asked as I walked into the main part of the bus. “Done having your fun?” he asked with a smirk.

  “Stop listening to us having sex,” I said.

  “Then stop having it on the bus,” Gavin responded.

  “No, please God, no,” Cody added. “The sounds Brook makes are fucking hot.”

  “Dude, fantasizing about my girl is not cool.”

  “Then don’t have such a fucking amazing girl,” Cody retorted.

  I was torn between wanting to kick his ass and smiling because she was fucking amazing. So I let it slide.

  “Whatever,” I said. “Check this out.” I tossed the book at Trevor since he had stayed quiet about Brook.

  “What’s this?” he asked.

  “Just look.” He opened the notebook to a random page, and Gavin and Cody leaned over. I watched as their eyes scanned the words, and I could visibly see when they realized just how awesome they were. Trevor flipped through a few pages before looking up.

  “You’ve been holding out on us,” he told me.

  “When did you write these?” Gavin asked.

  “I didn’t. Brooklyn did.”

  You know in movies when at that moment, music always plays in the background, and then it stops suddenly to give full impact to the silence as the main characters take in what was said? So that didn’t happen here, but as if right on cue, the tires screeched as Clark, our driver, hit the brakes. It was almost as if the entire bus was saying, “What?”

  Then there was silence.

  “You never told us Brook was a lyricist.” Gavin was the first to speak.

  “I didn’t know,” I told them. “Neither did she, apparently. She just started this on the tour and didn’t tell me because she thought they sucked.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Gavin asked.

  “Nope.” I smiled because they were reacting the same as I did.

  “Brook, get your sweet ass out here unless you want us barging in,” Gavin yelled.

  “Stop fucking flirting with my girl,” I told Gavin. He just smiled at me. Asshole.

  Brook came out almost instantly as if she had gotten dressed and was waiting by the door.

  “Hi,” she said softly and even waved. I had to pretend to choke to cover my laugh. God, she was adorable when she was nervous.

  “Damn, Brook,” Cody started. “Let me get this straight. You’re hot as hell, you cook for us, you’re sweeter than my mama’s tea, and now, you fucking write kickass lyrics? Jesus, woman, is there anything you’re not good at … besides picking the wrong guy.” He added that last part with a smile and a thumb aimed at me. If he hadn’t been joking, I would have had to show him who the wrong guy was.

  “You like it?” she asked, her eyes darting between all three guys.

  “Brook, we love it,” Gavin told her and
then pushed me out of the way and wrapped her in a hug that was too close for my comfort.

  “Get off Brooklyn.” I might have yelled that last part.

  Gavin winked at me before he kissed her cheek, and only then did he let her go. He was lucky he was my best friend.

  I had grabbed her before anyone else got any ideas. Trevor had laughed before he nodded at Brook. “They’re really something special. Can we use them?” he asked her, but he looked at me for confirmation.

  “Who feels like playing some music?” I asked, and the guys practically cheered.

  “The manager, maybe the record company is going to want to talk to you about copyrights and such.” I turned to Brook.

  “Why? They’re yours.”

  “No, Brooklyn, they’re your words.”

  “I told you; whatever is mine is yours. I don’t see you making me pay for being on this bus.”

  “Never,” I told her, but I was a tad bit angry that she even suggested something like that. “It’s for technicalities. They just want to make sure you’re not going to sue them.” I knew they’d chime in that if things went sour between us, Brooklyn could come after us, the record company, etcetera. I’d die, though, before I let her go, so I wasn’t worried about that. I just didn’t want them to chew my ass out.

  She grabbed my face and kissed me then turned to the guys. “You are all my witnesses. Whatever I write is yours. I don’t need the money, and I don’t want the recognition. And if things go bad between us—” She turned to me.

  “They won’t,” I interrupted her.

  “I know”—she smiled—“but if they do, I wouldn’t want anything to do with these songs anyway since they’d remind me of you.”

  “I’m stealing her,” Cody chimed in.

  “Over my dead body,” I growled.

  “That can be arranged.” He winked. The motherfucker winked.

  Brook laughed, patted my chest, told us good luck, and went back to the room, muttering something about getting out of the line of fire.

  Grennan