“Alright fine,” she sighs, walking up to Brody and taking the guitar from him. “What do you want to hear?”

“Play what you were rehearsing the other night,” Demi chimes

Huntley smiles, pulling the oversized strap over her shoulder and resting the guitar on her knee. “Alright then, but it’s a slow one and I’m a little rusty so be warned.”

Everybody nods in agreement and she settles onto a tree stump to the left of the bonfire. The atmosphere has gone from a rowdy ‘boys only’ blow out to a relaxed hang out with friends, all because this gorgeous girl put a guitar on her lap.

She makes a few adjustments to the strings, tweaking it here and there before her fingers glide over them in complete harmony. Her voice joins the music and it’s flawless. She starts singing the words to Holding Out For A Hero by Ella Mae Bowen and loses herself in the lyrics. She was right, it’s a slow one, but right now I wouldn’t want to hear anything else. It’s perfect.

She’s perfect.

I listen to her voice flow and fuse with the words about waiting for a hero, for someone strong, and steady, and willing to fight for her. The expression on her face makes me wonder if there’s a truth to what she’s singing. Has she been hurt? Does she need saving? I decide I want to know. I want to know if her heart has been broken, I want to know who would be dumb enough to break it and I want to know why no one was around to take care of her. My mind is hovering, thoughts of protecting her crashing into one another at a rapid pace.

I look around at my team mates, all of them completely enthralled by Huntley and the fluidity with which her hands slide over the over-sized guitar and the way her voice entices your senses. It’s impossible to look away.

She strums the last chord and I see a single tear roll down her cheek. She swipes at it quickly but I doubt anyone else notices. It’s only quiet for a minute and you can hear the crickets echo through the stillness of a gorgeous southern summer night. But then a deafening applause erupts from everyone around the bonfire and Huntley blushes crimson. God she’s so fucking adorable. Our eyes meet briefly and the current surging between us is almost enough to make me lose my breath. The connection is lost when she looks away but I swear to God she felt it.

Fuck. This is confusing.

“Well boys, it’s time for us to get home,” Tommy says standing up. He easily pulls Demi up with him and she squeals, being taken by surprise. “Baby, I’m driving,” she says with that ‘I-mean-business’ look that we’re all familiar with.

When Brody stops scowling at Demi and Tommy, he looks at me. “Are you ok to drive?” I stopped drinking about an hour ago so I should have no problem driving.

“I’ll drive with you,” Huntley pipes up, shocking both of us. We haven’t said much to each other since her and Demi got here but I’ll be damned if I pass up her offer.

“We’ll drive behind you and I’ll get her at your house after I drop Tommy off,” Demi adds. Her voice is a little too excited.

“Ok,” is all I can manage at this point.

** ** ** ** **

The drive is only thirty minutes but for the first fifteen minutes there’s an awkward silence flowing between us in the cab of my truck. It’s a nervous energy and I repetitively wipe my hands on my jeans because they’re sweaty. I have this flapping feeling in my stomach, like there’s a family of bats living there.

Bats? In my stomach? Really? God Grayson, pull your head out of your ass. It’s just a girl for shits sake…

Huntley fiddles with her hands but keeps looking out the passenger window on her side of the truck. I decide it’s now or never.

“You sing really well,” I say, giving her a brief look before turning my attention back to the road.

You sing really well? Are you fucking kidding me? That’s all I could come up with? Idiot.

“Uh, thanks, “she replies softly, “I was nervous. I hate being put on the spot.”

“Who taught you to play?”

She shifts uncomfortably and I wonder if I should’ve just kept quiet. “My dad. He started teaching me to play when I was really little. I’m surprised he managed it.” A giggle escapes from her mouth and she shakes her head.

A few minutes of more silence passes.

“So how are you liking Breckinridge?” I ask a little too eagerly.

I should really just smack myself in the face now and get it over with because if I thought I was an idiot five minutes ago I was sadly mistaken. I could not have come up with a cornier question. My usual ‘confidence’ has gone into hiding. It’s the first time a girl has me at a loss for words for no reason at all.

She shrugs. “It’s different but I like it. The people are really nice. It’s the closest thing to home I’ve felt in a long time.”

“What do you mean?” I don’t want to pry but the question is out before I can think twice about it. Something is pushing me to dig deeper and whether she opens up or not is up to her but I want to try.

“Sometimes home has more to do with the people around you than the place you live. A home isn’t always a happy place but the people with you are what make it worth it.”

Her words hit me in the middle of my chest and ricochet off the walls of my rib cage. I understand what she means better than I wish I did.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” she whispers, regretting her words. I wonder if she realizes that her emotions are written all over her beautiful face. This girl, this gorgeous creation sitting next to me, has been hurt before, maybe even broken. She may not want others to see it but I do.

I realize then that what’s pulling me to her is more than just an attraction. It’s an inherent bond created by circumstances neither of us had or have control over.

You hear about people crossing paths in their lives and you hear about peoples paths running alongside each other in perfect symmetry. But what you don’t often hear about is the union of two roads that eventually become one. Looking at Huntley now, I understand what that means. The feeling that her path with inevitably come together with mine is unnerving but nonetheless there.

We’re quiet for the rest of the drive, both lost in our own thoughts. I wish I knew what she was thinking. Then maybe I would feel like less of an ass for having these crazy, ridiculous feelings wreaking havoc with my head. Both of them.

We pull up outside the house and I turn my truck off. I’m trying to decide whether or not to invite her in and dammit it’s a tough decision. If I invited her in would she get the wrong idea? If I didn’t invite her in would she also then get the wrong idea?

God. I sound like a woman, overanalyzing every little detail until it’s worn paper-thin.

“You’re not what I was expecting,” Huntley says shifting in her seat to face me. The comment is blunt and completely unexpected, pulling me straight out of my dippy thoughts.

“Oh yeah?” I quip sarcastically, “Why’s that?”

I’m dying to know what people have told her about me. Probably about what a play boy I am or how I party too much or maybe how I have a new girl on my arm every night. Stupid rumors piss me off so much I’ve never really wasted any time negating them. But I wish I had, just so that Huntley won’t have any reason to believe them.