Kennedy's P.O.V
I RAN STRAIGHT to the music rooms which also happen to be my next class, after Caiden showed me that photo of Sam and I.
I tried so hard to forget that day. So hard to forget him. Ever since we got to America, I've only thought about him once or twice.
It worked for a while. A while being up till now.
That photo of us on the beach was taken two days before the accident with my father.
That's one of the reason why I don't use Instagram anymore. Being the Australian Teen Surf Champion comes with lots of followers and lots of followers mean lots of comments. Comments both good and bad.
I'd never gotten much hate but the reason I stopped using it was because of the questions, the rumours, the assumptions.
I was bombarded daily with questions on my dads shark attack. How he was dumb enough to swim that day. How I was stupid not to tell him to not surf. There was a whole chain going around that my dad was the reason Sam got killed that day.
Tears stream down my face. I'm not one to cry pretty, so I sniffle and wipe the tears off my blotched cheeks.
I miss him so much. I wish he was still alive. I can't believe I tried to forget about Sam Conroy.
I push open the door to the classroom.
The music rooms at school here are small, as not many people choose to take the subject.
Their are bean bags in one corner, a few tables and chairs. Also a huge white board with black lines written on it to represent sheet music bar lines and 2 pianos and 1 keyboard in the room.
I go straight to the back cupboard where the guitars are kept. My throat is tied up in knots and I fought to keep the tears at bay.
Running my hands over each string on each guitar, I settle for one that looks like my old one and sit in a bean bag.
I take in a deep breath before letting out a small shaky one.
Up till I was 15 and got bored of the lessons from my tutor, Sam told me he loved it when I played for him.
2 years ago
The day was hot like always in summer. I walked down to the deserted beach and sat in the shaded sand.
I listened to the waves, my guitar resting on my lap while I waited for Sam to come.
He texted me this morning to meet him 5pm sharp at the beach under the great tall tree.
"I was beginning to wonder if you ditched me," I said as Sam came trodding along in blue shorts and a white singlet top.
His hair was messy as always, but it was a cute messy, brown locks twisted one way and another.
"I'd never ditch you. Not for a lifetime."
I smile at his words.
"You brought your guitar?" He asks, and I nod softly.
"Yeah," I lift it up by the neck, "but why? You know I don't want to play any more."
He sits opposite me and crosses his legs.
"Cause I want you to play me this."
Sam holds out a small sheet of crinkled paper. I take it from him and read the writing scrawled across it.
"You wrote a song?"
"Yes, and I want you to play it for me."
I take the guitar and place it comfortably into place. Sam takes the paper from me and sets it on the sand so I have my two hands solely for the guitar.
I look up at him. "So I just use any chords?"
His chocolate brown eyes twinkle in the afternoon light. "Any."
Present Time
I begin to strum the same chords I played 2 years ago. And I find myself shifting back to that moment in time.
"The day was bright
But the starts were out,
The moonlight saved its light for now"
"A thousand times I'd see your face
I remember climbing into your place."
"And all
The days
That you
We're mine,
I wished for years to stop in time."
"A surfers kiss,
My hundredth wish,
Feel the breeze upon our li-"
I'm stopped mid chorus by a fresh set of tears, a huge lump forming in my throat and tight pain in my chest.
"It hurts too much," my voice cracks.
I lay the guitar on my lap and bury my face in my hands. I pushed the pain away for too long and I tried to forget him.
It worked, it truly did but it only hurts more than before when I bring it to the surface again.
Seeing his face this afternoon made me realise how much I miss my best friend.
I close my eyes.
He's still with you Kennedy. He's right here in your heart, he's a part of you. I tell myself.
I hear the shuffle of feet and glance up straight away.
There stands Caiden Hurley. Did he follow me?
"How long have you been there?" I ask and try to wipe my tears, sit up straighter, and somehow make my self presentable.
"Long enough to know that you can sing," answered Caiden as he slowly made his way over to me.
I'm quiet for a minute. "You followed me didn't you?"
He shook his head, "No, I didn't even know you were in here."
I scrunch up my nose. "Then why were you even near the music rooms, you don't seem like the musical type."
Chuckling, Caiden replied "I must admit I'm quite offended by that comment. I for one have always loved music."
"Oh." is all I can master for words and I look down at the guitar now in my lap.
"So your beautiful, smart, can surf and sing, play guitar, and is a real tough nut."
He sits in a beanbag next to me. "What else can you do? Other than being perfect."
My stomach begins to flutter as he compliments me.
"I'm not perfect."
"It sure seems like it to me."
I look over at Caiden. Is he saying this for a purpose? Or does he really just believe I'm all perfect.
He watches me as I watch him then he finally speaks, "Why'd you run out?"
I look away and fiddle with the beanbag. The rub of the beans against carpet fills my ears and I know he's moving closer to me.
I feel his warmth as he is now sitting straight in front of me. "I'm a really good listener," he says, his voice instantly soothing.
My eyes stay glued to the bean bag, I don't really want to tell him about Sam. Mainly because I don't want to share him. Back in Australia he was my Sam, the guy best friend I could laugh with, share secrets with. But I do want the world to know about him, know how amazing he was, and to know what he did for my father.
Caiden's hand goes to my chin and he gently tilts it up, so that I'm looking him in the eye.
"Kennedy?" he whispers slowly, and my chest flutters at the sound of my name in his voice.
My heart squeezes, he's sitting so close. My eyes trace his jaw and pear-shaped birthmark, then they flicker to his lips.
I can feel my pulse quickening. Why do I want to kiss him so bad right now?
He doesn't remove his hand from my chin, instead, he slowly cups the side of my face. Returning my eyes to his I discover that his eyes aren't even looking at mine, they're looking down at my lips, a soft fire burning within them.
Does he want to kiss me too?
A/N: why am i making this book so slow.