Stella's POV:

Music has always been a major part of my life. Some would even say that it was my first love –and those people would be correct. There is just something about knowing that no matter what was going on in my life or what kind of mood I was in on any given day, there was always a song that spoke to me, making things instantly better with just a few notes and meaningful words. In fact, it was that love for music that led me to major in music at Jacksonville State which in turn led me to my first ever adult job –Elementary Music teacher– at the very same school that I started out as a pre-k student in.

Being able to live out my childhood dream of finding a career in music without having to move to Nashville, Tennessee –the country music capital of the world– is literally all I have ever wanted. While other people who grew up in a small town might have dreamed of moving as far away from the place that made them who they were as soon as they could, it wasn't something that I'd ever thought about. Everything I ever wanted for myself could be found right here in Hope Hull, Alabama.

Well, maybe everything but love and happily ever after but since I wasn't looking for either of those at this point in my life, I was perfectly fine staying right where I am. At only twenty-five years old, I have plenty of time to find a man that sets my soul on fire. I have plenty of time to think about how many kids I may or may not want in the future. Hell, I even have time to have a perfect little mid-life crisis where I change up my whole career... if that's what I choose to do.

All in all, I am perfectly fine staying right where I am, living a simple life, and passing on  love for music to kids that may one day have bigger dreams of what they want for their future.

Sure, moving to Nashville and trying my luck at making a name for myself in the country music world would be nice but the truth of the matter is, I am too shy for that. There is no way that I could stand on a stage in front of thousands of people, sing, dance, and work the crowd when it was all I could manage to work a gymnasium full of parents watching their kids perform in the yearly Christmas play.

It's not that I don't have the voice to make it in Nashville. Quite the opposite actually. In my opinion, I have a better voice than more than a few of the women who have made it big in music. Better even than the ones that are winning awards and skyrocketing to fame.

It's not that I don't have the looks to stand out from all the other women wanting to make it big in the world of country music. I wouldn't say I would be winning any beauty contests anytime soon but I knew that I was beautiful in my own way.

Okay, maybe not my own way since I literally shared a face with another person –one that is two minutes and thirty-seven seconds older than me and has never missed a chance to remind me of that fact in the past twenty-five years. My twin, Ella, and I may look so much alike that our own parents have a hard time telling us apart even after twenty-five years of raising us, but we couldn't be more different in personalities if we tried. For every shy, quiet, reserved bone I have in my body, Ella has one that's outgoing, loud, and full of adventure –all of which are reasons why she is the one that moved to Nashville to pursue her dream of becoming a Nashville country music superstar. And let me tell you, she is well on her way to finding the stardom that she craves.

I'd be lying if I said that sometimes I didn't wonder why I couldn't be more like Ella. Honestly, if anyone who considers themself in the ways that I do tells you that they don't think about being different –even if just for a day– they are full of it. I mean, who wouldn't want to be more outgoing without feeling as if they are forcing themselves to be something that they aren't? Who wouldn't want to care less about what people thought of them as they stood in front of them and sang songs that told parts of their life stories or did whatever it was that the fear of failure kept them from doing?

"Hey Stel-belle, are you almost done?". A smile spread across my face as the words my sister had just spoken pulled me from my thoughts. Lord knows, I didn't have time to go down that winding path of self-inflicted misery today.

"Almost, Ellie-Jellie." I replied, tossing the last of my music books into the box.

Most people thought that Ella and I's nicknames for one another were cutesy and maybe even too immature for women our age, but they reminded me of a simpler time –a time when Ella and I had been two young eight year olds who had been learning about rhyming words in school. Because of the addictive personality that Ella has, she became obsessed with rhyming everything, especially peoples names. And because of that obsession, I became Stel-Belle, Mama became Mama-llama, and Daddy became Raddy-daddy. 

"Well, I spent enough time in this classroom when we were in school to last me a lifetime." said Ella, sinking down into one of the tint chairs that still needed to be stacked and placed against the wall. "That old woman almost made me hate music."

"It's rude to speak ill of the dead, Ellie." I tried to give her a serious look, but the smirk that spread across my face was unstoppable.

"Mrs. Hargrove was evil and you know it."

"She was not."

"She was!" Ella exclaimed, standing from her seat and placing her hands on her hips. "She forced us to learn how to play that damn recorder even though you know just as well as I do that the sound of it made her skin crawl. I mean, whoever invented that thing should have their head examined or should at the very least have to listen to the sound of a room full of little kids trying to play the offending thing on a constant loop. I'm talking all day and all night."

I couldn't help the laugh that escaped me as Ella ranted because even though she sounded like she was exaggerating, I promise you that she isn't. Mrs. Hargrove –may god bless her soul– had a love/hate relationship with the recorder, claiming that all kids had to learn to play it because they might need it later in life; For what, I don't even know since I haven't played that thing since fourth grade and have never once seen someone playing it as part of a band. The hate part of the that relationship became obvious when Mrs. Hargrove had been caught wearing earplugs during her class –a fact that she tried to brush off but failed miserably at since even fourth graders knew that when someone loved the sound of a musical instrument, they wouldn't wear something that would prevent them from hearing it and the students that were playing them.

"That would be the worst form of torture." I said, still giggling at Ella's rant.

"Worse than legos?"

"Absolutely." I nodded. "Why do you think my fourth graders are learning the ukulele instead?"

"Oh god, that might be even worse than the recorder." groaned Ella.

"No worse than when you first started to learn to play the guitar." I countered, giving her a smirk.

"I was so bad." she laughed. "Thank god I finally learned how to play or else this whole career that I have going on would be nothing more than a pipedream."

"Thank god for small miracles." I winked, giving her a loving smile that said that I was simply joking with her about ever being bad at anything. And that was the God's-honest truth... Ella had never been bad at anything she's ever tried. Except for maybe relationships but just like Bruno from that one Disney movie, we don't talk about that.

"Anyways, whatcha need my help with?" asked Ella, grabbing the box of books I'd just finished packing. "Want these in the back seat or in the trunk?"

"Trunk, please."

"Okay." she said, turning and walking towards the door of my classroom. "But when I get back, I want you to be done so that I can spend time with you before I have to leave and get ready for the show in Jacksonville tonight. You're still coming right?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world." I smiled. "The better question is, are you ready for all your tour boyfriends to know that you have a twin sister and that we are so identical that our own parents can't tell us apart when we don't want them to?"

"I don't have any tour boyfriends." she said, shrugging off my comment. "I can't help that the world wants to see what kind of pretty babies that Riley and I could make."

"They are shipping yall pretty hard." I replied.

"Ain't they?" she asked. "Guess they will never know since Riley is not my type at all.". With that, she turned and walked through the doorway of my classroom.

"You don't have a type!" I yelled. I knew she heard me based on the laugh that filled the silent hallway.

As I began to stack chairs and line them against the wall, there was only one thought on my mind. And that thought? Well, it was about how Riley Green was absolutely my type. Everything from his arms to his smile and everything in between was everything that I could ever want in a man. The problem was, no one that has a career such as is would want to settle down with a woman that's life's passion was to teach little kids the art of music when he could have anyone that he could ever want.

But a girl can surely daydream.