Cinderella Steals Home by Carly Syms Read Free Book Online

the next night, guitar in my lap, song notebook open on the bed next to me.  
    I know I'm not going to play at Gemma's or anything, but thinking about it made me realize just how much I'd let music go from my life, and how badly I want it back.
    I flip through my notebook -- I've only come up with five original songs, and they're all finished and I like them okay, but there's one song on the very last page that I've been trying to write for months, maybe even years. I don't remember how long it's been.
    And it still isn't working the way I want it to.  
    Probably because it doesn't have an ending, and I can't find the right one.
    I read over what I have written already for it and let out a sigh. I scribble the first verse onto a fresh sheet of paper, then tear the old page from my notebook, crumple it into a ball and launch it across the room at my trashcan where it hits the rim and falls harmlessly to the carpet.  
    I smirk. Fitting.  
    I flip back a few pages to the first song I ever wrote and pick up my guitar, strumming the opening chords and begin to sing.
    I'm almost to the chorus when I hear a knock at my door. I ignore it and keep singing when it sounds again, louder and more persistent this time. With a groan, I put my guitar down on the bed and walk over to the door, expecting to see Dad or Justin standing there, wanting me to come down to the pool again.  
    Instead, I jump back immediately as Doan leans against the door frame, arms crossed over his bare chest. He's wearing just a pair of bright blue swim trunks and flip flops.
    "I didn't know you were a singer," he says.
    I swallow hard. He must've just come out of the pool; there are still some water droplets clinging to the muscles on his tanned arms and pecs.
    "Uh," I say, shaking my head, trying to regain my composure. Doan, of all people, isn't going to affect me. "You don't know anything about me."  
    He smirks. "Well, now, that isn't true. I know you don't want to live in Arizona, don't really like your dad and that you're pretty cute when you're all riled up around me."  
    My nostrils flare. Justin always used to say that was a dead giveaway that I'm either about to let someone have it, or lie.  
    I'm not sure which one is in play right now with Doan.
    "You don't rile me up," I say.
    Lying it is.  
    Doan raises his eyebrows. "Sure thing, Holls. You sound good."  
    I feel my cheeks grow warm, and I hate my body for betraying me like this. I don't care what Doan Riley thinks about anything that has to do with me.  
    "Thank you." My voice is calm and cool.
    He smiles and shakes his head. "I really don't get it. Why do you hate me so much? I'm not a terrible guy. Most people even think I'm fun."  
    "If you still don't understand it, you never will. And I'm not most people."  
    "I know," he says. "Believe me, I know."  
    "I really should get back to the guitar."  
    "Do you play in front of people?" he asks.
    "No."  
    "Why not?"  
    I shrug. "Just never had the chance."  
    "No, I don't believe that. You can always find the opportunity you're looking for if it's what you really want."  
    "What are you, some kind of book of proverbs?"  
    "What?" His forehead creases.
    "First, you tell me over pizza that we always have a choice, and now you come out with this line about opportunity?" I raise an eyebrow and fold my arms across my chest.  
    He grins. "I guess you could say that I'm chock full of life's little wisdoms."  
    "I don't think that's what you're full of," I mutter under my breath, but he only laughs.  
    "I'm gonna wear you down, Holly," he tells me. "It's just a matter of time, you know that, right?"  
    "Wear me down to what, exactly?"  
    He shrugs. "I'll settle for you being a normal person that can have a conversation without looking for new ways to insult me."  
    "Why would you want that?"  
    He laughs. "I think you're interesting. And I think there's a lot more to you than you let on."  
    "Funny you should say that," I shoot