Love Struck (Miss Match #2) by Laurelin McGee

moment.
    “Hey, it sounded like you were really on a roll in there,” Andy called from the other room. “Wanna play me anything?”
    Lacy was pulling out the carton with two fingers, getting burned, blowing on them, and repeating the process. The universal Dance of Nuking. Luckily, that gave her time to get a hold of her answer.
    “Nah, I need to step away for a little while, get fresh before I finish that one.” It was getting easier and easier to tell this particular lie. The one where she had been writing the whole time. The one where she wasn’t a pathetic hack.
    “No worries. I’m just curious to hear the new stuff.”
    She hadn’t even told Andy about the change in her studio schedule because she knew she’d press Lacy to play her album list. Then she’d have to confess.
    God, when had she become such a wimp? She’d always thought of herself as a strong person.
    That was it. She couldn’t live with herself if she was afraid of everything. Old Lacy would kick New Lacy’s ass over this stuff. Though she wasn’t ready to admit she was blocked in the songwriting department, she could at least get up the nerve to ask Folx about their relationship. Next time they talked, she promised herself, she’d be brave. She’d be bold.
    Lacy returned to the sofa and sat so her feet were on Andy’s lap.
    “Do you wanna hear the text Tim sent me at five in the morning today?”
    Lacy smiled at her sister. “Obviously. Five in the morning on a Sunday? Does he sleep?” At least her evasion had gone well. Better than usual. And with her decision made about Folx, she felt slightly less pathetic than she had a minute before.
    *   *   *
    Eli was cracking up.
    Tonight he’d agreed to give LoveCoda a rest on the songwriting help—he could practically hear the frustration through the instant messenger when she told him she’d watched the movie three more times with no success. Now they were doing what they did best—goofing off. She’d once told him that Pitch Perfect was her go-to Happy Place, but he hadn’t seen it. So now, instead of watching a movie and hoping to derive Meaning and Inspiration, they were watching and deriving pleasure.
    He probably shouldn’t be online at all. It was after midnight, and he had a bus to catch in the morning. Tour time, which should make him excited. And he was. He loved performing his material in front of a live audience. Just … the whole band experience was beginning to seem old. But he felt so protective of Jax. Responsible. He couldn’t think about leaving. Not now.
    So he was going on tour in the morning. He should be focusing on that instead of laughing at the ins and outs of a capella. Though, what else did he need to do to get ready? Minus the mandolin sitting at his feet, he was already packed. And he could sleep on the drive.
    He kept Pitch Perfect on.
    The current scene featured the characters at a party after they had been initiated into their singing groups. Something about it nagged that little spot in his mind where the words lived. There was a song there, he was sure. Something about that almost psychic connection with someone else, where even in a gigantic party, you are somehow always aware of where they are relative to you. Something about the way the ambient noise fades and all you can hear is the melody of their voice. Something about how he was suddenly positive that he’d know LoveCoda even in the biggest crowd. A memory of the Blue Hills’ last show sparked and flickered at the edge of his perception but faded as a tune flared up and eclipsed it.
    He grabbed his mandolin and started to pick out the notes that were now surging through him. LoveCoda was repeating—typeating?—her favorite lines from the movie now with long strings of ahahahaha ’s. It was so cute to see her happy—a genuine happiness that transferred through the machines and wires and satellite dishes that separated them.
    He started jotting down lyrics.
    Wake up to the buzz of