Faded Denim

By Laurie B Spellman

A weather-beaten sign creaked in the wind, its peeling red letters visible in the dying light: Swim at Your Own Risk.

My toes twitched, the sand clinging to my feet like bad lyrics. I always ran when trouble knocked. Cape Cod was my refuge from the spotlight of fame, the ache of lost love, and unspoken regrets. I stepped into the surf, cold water rushing in.

I wrote "Lost At The Cape" on this beach, my first gold record.

Clumsy songs and off-key notes were a messy path to discovering my voice and reaching the top of the music charts. I'd let others shape me into what they thought I should be—first, my parents, then my manager and my record label.

Diving beneath the surface, weightless and suspended in that space between breath and wave, I thought about how life ebbs and flows in melodic currents. It's beautiful and unpredictable. I tried to outrun the highs and lows of fame and passion.

The waves swelled, but I didn't fear the next crash. As the sky deepened to black, the stars twinkled—brilliant sparks of light. Then, in an instant, the tides pulled me under. My heart hammered, drowning out the ocean. I surfaced farther out from the shoreline.

A hiker waved his arms above his head. His voice cut through the howling wind. "Stay calm! Swim parallel to the beach!"

"I can't!"

"Listen, swim toward me. Ready? Go!"

The waves swelled, breaking over my head.

"Just hang on a little bit longer," he yelled.

I counted twenty desperate, furious strokes: every breath a flash of heartbreak and success. I made it to shore, gasping.

"Are you hurt?"

Exhaustion settled over me​,​ heavy as a lead blanket. I fell to my knees. With warm hands, he swept the stray hair from my eyes. I trembled, breathing shallow as he draped his faded denim jacket around my shoulders. The fabric exuded notes of musk in a slow, drawn-out melody. As he crouched beside me under the moonlight, his eyes lingered on my face.

"Wow, Isla Wilder, what are you doing swimming alone? It's dangerous."

I was caught off guard as the adrenaline rush faded. "I've always found my inspiration at the Cape," I confessed.

"Your inspirations aren't out there in the tidal surges. I'm pretty sure they're inside of you."

"Why didn't you dive in to rescue me, like everyone else in my life?"

"Two of us battling the rip current wouldn’t have made a difference. Besides, I knew you’d make it out just fine."

"Wait, you're Riley Flynn."

"Yeah, we went to Berklee together," he laughed. "I wasn’t a member of your cool crowd. I sang a capella."

"I thought I’d drown out there."

"Whatever you were doing tonight, you saved yourself."

"I was pondering my purpose, and suddenly the tides changed."

"I'm glad I picked this spot to hike today."

"Me too, thank you."

"Isla, would you like me to take you home?"

"Yes, I’d like that a lot."

Riley reached down and pulled me up. Without thinking, I kissed his cheek, and his whiskers brushed my lips.

"How about we crank up your playlist while I drive you?"

"A capella, huh? So you were making musical magic without any instruments?

"Oh, I can carry a tune. Can we duet while we ride?’ he grinned.

"What's your favorite song of mine?"

"Lost Along the Cape."

🎸🎸🎸🎸

One Year Later:

The Cape hasn’t changed, but I have. The sky bled into gradient shades of rich golden ochre as the sunset kissed the ocean. I sat cross-legged on a soft blanket, guitar in hand, fingers picking at the strings, searching for inspiration. The lyrics were forming on my tongue. It was in my soul, this song, this place—I started to sing.

"I fell to my knees, with the world spinning 'round,
His hands pulled me closer, feeling safe and sound.
A sultry musk bass line smelled completely divine,
Wrapped in faded denim, our hearts intertwined."

Then, a soft crunch of footsteps broke my rhythm. I didn’t need to turn—his musky scent was a familiar tune.

Riley Flynn.

On tour, I realized that I was helplessly in love with him. His faded denim jacket reprised the last time we met. Riley looked different and more confident, like someone who had stopped running, too.

"Long time no see, Isla." He dropped beside me on the blanket.

"Riley," I breathed his name in a long exhale. "You got my text."

He half-smiled. "I heard you were back in town, and I couldn’t have been happier when I got your message. I'm glad I caught you before the world ripped you away again."

I laughed at myself, setting down my guitar. "Wouldn’t be the first time."

"You’ve been busy," he said. "Touring. A Grammy. The whole rock star thing."

I nodded, "It’s all a blur. I’m still figuring out who I am. Everyone thinks they know, but I’m just…me."

"You’ve always known. It's time to show the world."

I’ve spent so much time trying to outrun myself, but I found my rhythm with Riley.

"How’s your career going?" I was genuinely curious.

"I'm still working on it, but I sold a few songs I wrote recently."

"Wow, that’s amazing! I knew you had something special."

He was so pure and honest that it made my heart skip a beat. I finally felt that pang that resonated inside me.

"Do you remember that night?" he said softly. "After the beach back at your house?"

My heart skipped again. "How could I forget?"

He met my gaze. "I thought that was the beginning of something special between us."

"You were right. I’ve been running from myself. But now…I’ve stopped."

Riley silently leaned in. I met him halfway, our lips colliding in a slow, deep kiss. We fit together, perfect melodies composed in passionate lyrics. Kissing, breathless and hungry, he finally pulled away and pressed his cheek to mine.

"I don’t want to spend another year without you, Isla."

"I'm ready." And for the first time, I believed it.

"Was that a new song about a guy in a denim jacket who wears musk?” He chuckled.

"Yeah, it was inspired by a meeting on this beach a year ago."

"Tell me, what’s the song called?"

"Faded Denim. It's a duet."

🩷🩷🩷

Laurie B. Spellman is a romance writer whose work blends drama, magical realism, comedy, and historical fiction, often reflecting the vibrant culture of her hometown, New Orleans. Her stories dive into themes of love, heritage, and the strength of women. A seasoned participant in flash fiction competitions, Laurie’s story “A Final Bargain” reached the Sensational 64 in Writing Battle, and she earned an Honorable Mention at NYC Midnight for her unique rhyming tale “Not Tested on Animals.” Laurie is also the co-founder of Ultimate Face Cosmetics, a professional makeup brand. She lives in Austin, Texas.