Riffs That Ruin (Survival Records #2)

22. Tristan

T he internet is a beautiful thing, an invaluable source, something I never thought I’d use to teach me how to apply makeup perfectly to cover bruises. Tutorial videos have saved me, and now I’m ready to record my first of many clips.

I’m not sure if Raina will see them, but I’m not sure how else to connect with her. That’s not my only reason, though. I want to redeem myself for ever doubting her. I need to go back to our roots, to remember what made me fall in love with her all those years ago. My hope is that by sharing my memories of her, I can get the world to see her the way I do. Not the version her uncle has painted her as.

Now I know why he’s tried to trash her career. I’m surprised she’s as successful as she is with how he’s worked to ruin her. It’s truly a testament to her talent.

Opening the camera, I double check my makeup, even though I know it looks flawless in the mirror. I don’t want people questioning why I’m all bruised.

I dart my tongue out, licking my finger to manipulate a section of hair that doesn’t want to stay in place. There. I think I’m ready. At least I hope I am.

This is a good idea, right?

Nerves twist in my stomach, and my palms are sweaty as I pick up my new guitar. I’m so damn lucky that I have the funds I do in my bank account now. Surviving without it would’ve been impossible.

My fingers work over the strings, getting used to the sound of this cheaper instrument. It’s not the quality I’ve grown used to, but it will do.

Pain rips through my ribs. It’s difficult to ignore, and I won’t be able to keep it up for long. I was told I should wait at least six weeks before trying to play, even longer depending on the healing process. But that doesn’t fit in my timetable. I need to reach my girl in the language of our love.

With a tap of my finger, I click the record button. I’ll edit out the beginning later. Notes fill the air as I play the first song Raina and I wrote together. My eyes close as I let the emotions wash over me from the time when we wrote this together. I’m practically playing from muscle memory alone—which is good since the pain I’m putting myself through is distracting, to say the least.

This song is ingrained in my soul, almost as much as she is.

Blinking my eyes open, I do my best to make eye contact with whoever will end up watching me, and I smile as I keep playing.

“I’m new around here, but I’m told you should announce who your audience should be at the start of your video. So this is for the Storm Chasers. Any and all Raina fans.” I do my best to put as much enthusiasm as I can into my words, but it’s hard when I have so much agony weighing me down. It’s not only the physical kind either. I know how much I hurt her when I should’ve been celebrating being brought back together.

“You don’t know me, but I’m Tristan Evans, and I wrote this song with Raina.”

A laugh falls out of me, and I look down for a moment. It’s risky leaving dead space in a video, but I think it’s worth it for dramatic effect. After all, I truly think Raina’s fans are drawn to the performance of her music as much as they are to the lyrics and melody.

“Raina and I grew up together, we were best friends, inseparable from the start. You might be able to tell from the songs we wrote together how much we were in love…”

I bite my bottom lip and give myself a split second to think about how much I’m head over heels for that woman.

Focusing on the camera again, I wince. “I’ll be honest. I fucked up bad. Like really, really bad. So this is day one of my groveling tour. I’m so sorry, Lexi. I love you.”

A groan rips through me as I lean forward and turn off the recording. Sweat beads on my forehead; I can only hope it doesn’t show up on screen. Might have to use a filter.

This first clip is short, an introduction to who I am. But I plan for them to build. I’m telling a story, and they get one chapter at a time.

I shrug off my leather jacket and put a shirt on. It might be a cheap trick, but it’s a well known fact that thirst traps gain views. I might be manipulating things in my favor to get Raina’s attention, but it’s worth it if it works. And I know she’d enjoy seeing my chest showing through the gap. Thankfully, the jacket still covers the bandage on my chest, protecting the healing wound.

Grabbing my phone again to edit the video, I pause to look at her picture on my lock screen. I had to grab one from the internet, but it doesn’t diminish her beauty.

I’m coming for you, Lexi. I won’t give up this time.