The waves crashed against the rocks far below as Elliot's music wrapped around Harper like the salty breeze. His fingers moved effortlessly over the strings, creating a melody that was equal parts melancholy and hopeful. She closed her eyes, letting the music wash over her.
When the song ended, Harper opened her eyes to find Elliot watching her, his expression unreadable.
"That was beautiful," she said softly.
"Thanks," he replied, setting the guitar aside. "It's still a work in progress."
"If that's a work in progress, I can't imagine what finished sounds like."
Elliot smiled but didn't respond. Instead, he leaned back on his elbows, his gaze drifting toward the horizon. Harper followed his line of sight, the two of them sitting in companionable silence as the sun dipped lower in the sky.
"I don't usually share new songs with people," Elliot admitted after a while.
"Why not?"
"Because they're raw. Imperfect." He glanced at her. "It feels like showing someone a part of you that you're not ready to explain yet."
Harper nodded, understanding more than she expected to. "That's brave, though. Letting people see that part of you."
Elliot chuckled, the sound low and rough. "Not sure if it's brave or just stupid."
"It's not stupid," she said firmly. "It's honest."
The sincerity in her voice made Elliot pause. He looked at her for a long moment, as if searching for something in her expression.
"You're different, Harper," he said finally.
Her heart skipped a beat. "Different how?"
"You're... real. Most people I meet either want to ignore the messy parts of life or fix them. But you... you just let them be. Like you're not afraid to sit with the mess."
Harper laughed softly, though his words stirred something deep within her. "Trust me, I'm not fearless. If anything, I've spent my whole life trying to avoid the mess."
"Maybe that's why you see it so clearly," Elliot said, his tone thoughtful.
They lapsed into silence again, the sound of the ocean filling the space between them.
But Harper's mind was anything but quiet. Elliot's words had touched on something she rarely let herself think about—the part of her that felt like she was constantly running from something she couldn't quite name.
She glanced at him, his profile outlined against the setting sun. There was a vulnerability in him, a quiet strength that made her want to know more.
"Why did your band fall apart?" she asked suddenly, the question escaping before she could second-guess it.
Elliot tensed, the easy demeanor he'd worn all evening slipping away.
"Sorry," Harper said quickly. "I didn't mean to—"
"No, it's fine," he interrupted, his voice tight. He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. "It's just... complicated."
Harper waited, giving him space to decide if he wanted to continue.
After a long moment, Elliot spoke. "We were together for years. Played small gigs, wrote music, dreamed big. But as things started to pick up, everything changed. We started fighting—over songs, over money, over things that didn't even matter."
He paused, his gaze fixed on the waves. "The truth is, I wasn't strong enough to hold it all together. I let my insecurities get in the way. And in the end, I walked away."
Harper frowned. "But you're still making music. That has to count for something."
"Maybe," Elliot said, though his tone was heavy with doubt. "But sometimes it feels like I'm just treading water, waiting for something to change."
Harper felt a pang of empathy. She knew that feeling all too well—the ache of wanting more but not knowing how to reach it.
"Things can change," she said softly. "Sometimes in ways you don't expect."
Elliot turned to her, his green eyes searching hers. "What about you? What are you waiting for?"
The question hit her like a jolt. She didn't have an answer—not one she was ready to say out loud.
"I don't know," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
Elliot nodded, as if he understood.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the sky in shades of pink and orange, Harper felt an unfamiliar tug in her chest. Something about this moment—this man—felt like a crossroads, one she hadn't seen coming.
And for the first time in a long time, she didn't feel the need to run.
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