It was snowing. In college station. Hell must have frozen over for us to have anything white on the ground in central Texas.

"One hot chocolate for the lady," Brayden carefully placed the mug in front of me on the coffee table and turned to Brooke. "And none for Glenn Coco."

"Brayden, give me my pumpkin spice latte," she sighed.

"I'm kidding," he stopped abruptly, a little bit of the drink sloshing over the edge. Brooke glared at him and then the spot on our floor.

"Clean it up," she grabbed her mug from him and sent him to the kitchen for a rag.

"Okay, please tell me what happened over break to cause this depressing Alice to come home," she begged next to me on the couch.

I took a small sip of my drink and sighed.

"Boys," I murmured.

"Enough said," she nodded.

"Brayden! You should have snuck some liquor in her drink!" She grinned back at him. He was on his hands and knees cleaning the floor.

"Anything else?" He pushed himself off of the floor, slightly annoyed with his hands on his hips.

"Yes," she leaned over the back of our couch. "There's a load of dishes in the sink, would you mind loading them."

He shook his head in mock humor and tossed the rag on the counter. "Hilarious."

He walked back over to the couch and plopped on the left side next to me.

"Have you started Dr. Klein's assignment yet?" He propped his boots onto the coffee table.

I took a sip of my hot chocolate, waiting for Brooke to yell at him for his boots, but she was distracted by her cell phone.

"You mean the one from last semester?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Yup."

"Brayden," I laughed. "You were graded on it last semester."

"But we have a new part this semester, have you started it?" he reiterated.

"Yeah," I sighed. "I mean, it's not good, but I've started it."

The assignment was frustrating. It was to tell "our story". Whatever that meant.

"My story is boring, most of it is spent on a ranch—"

"Digging post holes," Brooked and I finished in unison with him.

He stared at us.

"What?" He asked.

"You say it a lot," Brooke murmured.

He stared at us a moment longer before shaking his head.

"As I was saying," he leaned back. "I don't have a story, you know?"

Staring at the snow falling outside, I chewed the inside of my lip.

"Everyone has a story," I replied.

"Okay, yours is deep, you went through some shit, but me?" He rest his hand on his knee and looked away thoughtfully. "Not much has happened to me to 'shape me.'"

Lucky, I thought. I sucked in a deep breath and let it out as a sigh.

"Wanna switch stories?" I offered.

He sent me an unamused look. "Your story would change lives if you let it."

"Hey Brayden, will you give me a ride to chapter tonight?" Brooke finally looked up from her phone.

"Umm no, I have to be at church tonight," he said.

Brooke sighed. "Your truck is the only one that'll make it through the snow."

"Want me to drop you off outside an hour early?" he countered.

I swallowed a bit of hot chocolate and took a deep breath.

"You're such a dick," she grumbled and slammed back into the couch.

"I can't believe they didn't cancel chapter tonight anyway," he laughed.

"I can't believe they didn't cancel church," she said.

"The Lord's time is precious," he placed a hand to his heart.

Brooked rolled her eyes and went back to scrolling on her phone.

"Hey," he nudged me. "Want to come tonight? I'm sure they'd be happy to see you."

I sucked in a breath, my heart beating a bit faster.

"No thanks," I mumbled.

"Come on," he begged. "It's been two years."

Exactly. It's been two years since God took away one of his worship pastors. Truth be told, I was angry at God.

Growing up going to church did me zero good because I still lost good things. He took away my father. If he loved me like we're told, why would He do that?

"Please," he begged. "We can sit in the back and you can be pissed at Him from there."

"Brayden, leave her alone," Brooke intervened.

Thank you, I thought and sighed in relief.

"If Brooke went, would you go?" He challenged.

"I have chapter, duh," she replied.

"Brayden," I warned. "Drop it."

He held his hands up in surrender with his lips pursed.

"Yes ma'am," he said.

"Later, can y'all help me rehearse for this new role I'm going for?" Brooke shut her phone off and sat up. "My agent is having me send in an audition tomorrow and I'm freaking out."

"I can't believe you have an agent now," I smiled above my mug. She was signed right before Christmas break and she loved to mention "her agent".

"I know!" she squealed. "So will you? Both of you?"

Brayden sighed. "I hate doing that crap with you, Brooke."

"You aren't bad at it," she shook her head.

His expression went flat. "I am and you know it."

"Oh," she waved her hand. "It makes me better, please?"

I sat my mug on the coffee table, laughter just moments away from escaping my lips. It was good to be back. It was good to be away from home again...away from Jesse.

"I'm always down to act silly to see if you can keep a straight face," I offered.

She grinned, nearly bouncing in place next to me.

Brayden rolled his eyes. "Fine."

"Thank you!" she burst.

"Hey," Brayden gently shoved me. "You're signing up for the songwriting thing right?"

"Umm yes, she is," Brooke sent me a stern look.

"What she means is I've been thinking about it," I said.

"Good," he said. "I've heard you upstairs lately, you're kind of awesome."

I shook my head, but smiled. "Thanks."

Truth was, the songwriting competition was a huge deal. Capitol Records holds it every year at a different university and it was our turn. Capitol Records. Huge.

Adam wanted me to do it too and he was a major reason I was even considering it. My stage fright wasn't any better and I would need to figure something out if I were to enter. Regardless, the most frightening aspect of this competition was that they judged off of story in your song. The talent had its own section, but the main competition was the song itself.

Songs are personal, they're deep. At least the great ones are. It requires a level of vulnerability that I wasn't ready to share with the world.

I had a sneaky suspicion Dr. Klein's epic story assignment had something to do with preparing all of us for this competition.

My phone buzzed.

Jared.

I wish you had told me everything that was going on with Jesse.

I sighed and stuffed my phone back into my pocket. It looked like Jesse must have come clean.

By the end of the trip, I was desperate to get away from Jared simply because it was too hard to hide the Jesse-Alice drama.

He was questioning me like crazy, cornering me any chance he got and interrogating me in public places where he knew I couldn't avoid him. It was exhausting.

It still was.

"Alright," Brooked stood up quickly. "I've got a ride."

She sent Brayden a dark look, but he remained unfazed.

She left the room to go get ready for her sorority chapter meeting, leaving Brayden and I alone, staring at the snow outside.

"Sorry for pushing you about church," he said.

Glancing at him out of the corner of my eye, I smiled softly.

"Don't be, I know you mean well," I replied.

"Well, the least you can do is sign up for the dang competition."

"Brayden," I sighed.

"Can you imagine if you win?" He adjusted himself to face me better.

"Why aren't you entering?" I scowled.

"Because I have no chance," he laughed. "No story, remember?"

"Everyone has one, remember?" I mocked.

"Oh quit, you're doing it," he demanded.

I stared him.

"Please?"

I laughed and leaned back.

"I told you, I'm thinking about it."

For a moment, I imagined what would happen if I were to win. Would it be empowering? Would it be life changing for me to go on stage and experience applause and acceptance? Or it would it be nothing but another experience, emotionally lacking anything of value.

If I were being honest with myself, I knew I would sign up. For Adam. His belief in me could almost be unhealthy. I found myself not wanting to disappoint him. I would definitely have to talk to him about that, but maybe entering wouldn't be such a bad thing?

Would it make my Dad proud? Would Jared even come down for it?

Thoughts began to swarm my mind, possible what-if scenarios forming at rapid fire speed.

Maybe, for once, I should do it just to make myself proud.