Page 29 of A Taste of Bliss

“That’s her same reasoning for sleeping with Tay,” Blake says, his grin matching mine, only much more wicked as he looks over at Taser.

“Ouch.” Taser holds his hand over his heart. “What did I do to deserve all this hate?”

Well, you lied about something huge, for starters, I think, but I don’t voice it out loud. He smiles at me, but I drop my eyes from him and flop down on one of the couches that’s been pushed up to the wall facing the band’s setup.

I look around the garage. I’m pretty sure the last time I was here, I was dating Jordan. I don’t think I’ve stepped back into this space since. Too many memories. I run my hands up and down the couch cushion, feeling the slight scratchy fabric, my fingers finding a loose thread on one of the seams. I pick at it as memories flood to me.

Jordan and I making out on this couch for the first time.

The way I had butterflies and overthought every single thing I did.

The way I thought he was a gentlemen when he started to push for more and I told him I wasn’t ready, and he said it was cool, we could just keep making out.

The bar was so low back then.

I think our first ever fight was right over there, where Blake’s guitar rack now stands. It should have been our last fight as well, but only hindsight is twenty-twenty.

I push the thoughts from my mind, feeling the couch dip as Amelia sits next to me. “I’m so glad you’re here. I want to play a new song for you and you have to give me your totally honest thoughts on it, okay?”

“What’s it called?” I ask, a smile lifting my lips despite my anger at her. My sister has always been a bit self-conscious about her music writing. She’s a perfectionist in that way. Earlier, while Dericia and I were shopping, Reese mentioned she’s been having trouble writing lately. I’m glad to hear Amelia has finally broken through her writer’s block.

“Ribbons,” she says sheepishly. She reaches over and gives my ribbon a tug. “Um, I actually wrote it for you.”

“For me?” My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline.

Amelia nods. “It’s kinda about, like, how much I love you and yeah…” She trails off.

I mimic gagging, but despite myself I laugh and throw my arms around my sister, my anger dwindling a bit. I pull out of her embrace and motion at her to get up. “Get on with it already and play it for me.”

Amelia has written many songs about many things. Old flings. Grief over losing both our parents. Sex. What it’s like to be a woman.

She has never written a song about me. I’m both nervous and touched. And weirdly, a little mad. I don’t need anyone writing songs about me. I want actions over empty words. But Amelia isn’t always the best at direct communication.

So I scoot forward in my seat, ready to listen. Amelia nods at Tubbs and he counts down before starting a slow cymbal swell. The sound crests into soft snare drum hits. Amelia’s voice joins in, starting out soft and husky. “Maybe I’m over protective, but sometimes ribbons fray, sometimes they float away.”

I smile widely at the lyrics despite myself.

“Please don’t cut me off, please don’t untie these bonds, am I not enough, to keep things all together?”

Even the guitar and bass seem to mix a grungy feel with something graceful, flowing easily from verse to chorus. Lyrically, it feels like an apology, from her to me. Sonically, itfeels like a representation of how I wish I was, how I wish I could see myself.

The song finishes and Amelia looks at me hesitantly. “Do you like it?”

I get up and cross the room over to her, hugging her tightly. “I love it. It’s perfect.”

“Are you sure? Anything you’d change?”

I shake my head. “Nothing. The lyrics are beautiful.” I look over at Tubbs. “I also love the softer drums.”

“That was Tay Tay’s idea,” Dericia cuts in.

I look over at Taser. He’s watching me, and when his eyes meet mine, he shrugs. “It fit better. When I think of you, I don’t think of heavy drumming. I think of something a little bit softer.” He fixes me with a meaningful stare. “But still metal,” he clarifies, pointing his pick at me.

“Oh yes,” Reese agrees. “Like a pink metal Barbie.”

“Pink Metal,” Blake muses. “Kind of sounds like a fun girly pop metal fusion genre.”

We all chuckle, trying to picture how that might sound. “I don’t hate it,” Amelia says with a shrug. “Maybe we should experiment.”