Whoa! What? Hated you? I never hated her. Sure, I was angry with her, but I could never hate her. I love her.
“But I...I enjoyed kissing you before you left and all the times before that. In fact, it's all I've thought about,” she says.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Silence fills the line and I listen to her breathing until I can’t stand it any longer. Not really sure if I should push her more, deciding to just play it safe before she freaks out on me. The seeds been planted, so I change the subject.
"We’ll discuss that all another day. Right now, let’s just talk. Okay? So, um, how did the visit with our grandmas go? Did yours stay the whole week?" I ask, wishing I had been able to stay longer to know for myself.
She snorts and sniffles at the same time. It’s damn cute. "Um, yeah, she just left. And it was fine except for the other night when we were all together for dinner and my grandma, bless her heart, made a comment like, 'maybe your dad will be a better dad than that asshole that lies and cheats,' otherwise known as my dad, right. And then your grandma added something like, 'and gets drunk, killing my daughter-in-law.'
"Oh shit!"
"Yeah, the room was so silent and then my mom went into hysterics of course. It was painful. They apologized. She ran off to her bedroom and they followed. She explained to them that it was her fault he was drinking that night. I don't know what else happened, but your grandma's walking farts made us all crack up anyway, so that was funny."
I snort laugh. "Oh, hell. She does do that, huh?"
"Yeah, we were all laughing about it and of course my grandma with a stick up her ass didn't find it funny. Probably because she will get the walking farts soon and she knows it. Besides, we laughed at her as well when she took her teeth out.”
“She did what?”
Riley giggles, “Yeah, she had all her teeth pulled so she has dentures. Well, she took them out the other night and tried to talk. She’s like that old turtle on Kung Fu Panda. It’s funny.”
She laughs and I laugh with her—it feel’s good. “Remind me to be at my best when we are old and gray,” and the laughing stops. We will be together then. We will.
After a few long seconds go by she says, “I will.” That one statement, two words fill me with hope.
I tell her about my plans for Mardi Gras—downfall to her being in Texas and me being in Louisiana—there’s a badass holiday that I get to celebrate while she still has school. I could hear her pout through the phone. It’s a first apart.
We talk a little longer, but in the end nothings really changed, yet everything has changed at the same time. She’s still Riley, my best friend—the girl who loved a boy so much she let him go because she thought it’s what he needed—the girl who turns me inside out. Truth be told, all the boy needs is her and she knows it. She knows I don’t want to wait anymore. But I promised I would. I said I would wait forever and I will because like I told her…she is my forever.
CHAPTER 15
The dictionary defines the word purge in many ways. So many of those ways apply to me. Rid of things that are undesirable; to cleanse and purify; to clear of imputed guilt. To wipe away what’s unwanted. That is what I want, what I need. To purge myself of everything that holds me down under the water, not letting me breathe when all I want to do is live.
“That’s beautiful, Riley,” Rebel says, sitting down next to me on the pew where I’ve let myself play for the first time in forever.
I smile and watch my fingers tap on the black and white keys of the piano. Touch. Experiment. Feel. I shut my eyes and breathe in the moment—the emotion of letting go. Of reaching into my soul and finding the thing I’ve kept locked up tight. Releasing it.
I have the words written for this song, but for right now I’m just feeling it out. Humming the melody of what it will become. Just like me. What I might become. What I might become with Josh by my side. Once I purge everything else from my system, I believe I can have it again. My home with him.
His words replay in my mind so beautifully. I don’t want to wait anymore, either. I couldn’t get the words right when we talked. I couldn’t force my mouth to say what my heart was screaming at me. I hung up the phone with him and wrote it down.
IT’S LIKE HAZEL EYES THAT CLIMB DEEP INTO MY SOUL
IT’S WHEN I’M FALLING TO PIECES AND YOUR EMBRACE MAKES ME WHOLE
IT’S OUR SPOT BY THE TREE, THE WIND IN MY HAIR AS I SWING
IT’S THE KISS THAT SETS MY HEART FREE, YOUR TOUCH AND ALL THAT IT BRINGS
IT’S THE TASTE OF BROWNIES AND OF SOFT LIPS AGAINST MINE
IT’S MOMENTS IN THE LAKE
IT’S GOING FAST AND TAKING IT SLOW AT THE SAME TIME
IT’S WHEN I FINALLY KNOW THAT YOUR LOVE IS LIKE COMING HOME
TO ARMS THAT WERE MADE TO HOLD ME
TO LOOKING BACK ON EVERY MEMORY
AND KNOWING MY HEART BEATS BEST WHEN IT BEATS WITH YOURS
I’LL NEVER BE THAT GIRL THAT I WAS ONCE BEFORE
I’M DONE RUNNING, CRYING AND FEELING ALONE
I LET THE STARS GUIDE ME BACK TO YOU
BACK HOME
CUZ, BABY
YOU ARE HOME TO ME
IT’S THE SMELL OF RAIN AND SINS LEFT ON MY SKIN
IT’S NOT KNOWING WHERE WE END OR WHERE WE BEGIN
IT’S THE MUSIC THAT WE MAKE AND MOVE TO
IT’S HOW NOTHING ELSE EXISTS WHEN I AM WITH YOU
IT’S TATTOOS WITH SECRETS THAT ONLY YOU AND I KNOW WELL
IT’S FIRST TIMES WITH MY BEST FRIEND AND TRYING NOT TO FAIL
IT’S WHEN I FINALLY KNOW THAT YOUR LOVE IS LIKE COMING HOME
TO ARMS THAT WERE MADE TO HOLD ME
TO LOOKING BACK ON EVERY MEMORY
AND KNOWING MY HEART BEATS BEST WHEN IT BEATS WITH YOURS
I’LL NEVER BE THAT GIRL I WAS ONCE BEFORE
I’M DONE RUNNING, CRYING AND FEELING ALONE
I LET THE STARS GUIDE ME BACK TO YOU
BACK HOME
CUZ, BABY
YOU ARE HOME TO ME
IT’S YOUR SMILE AND THE VOICE YOU RESERVE FOR ME
IT’S WHEN I’M BROKEN, YOUR SCENT BLANKETS MY ACHE AND IS ALL THAT I NEED
IT’S HOW A SONG CAN REMIND ME OF SWEET MOMENTS OF DESIRE
OR A LOOK IN YOUR EYE THAT SETS MY WHOLE BODY ON FIRE
IT’S WRITING MUSIC FULL OF LOVE AND LETTING THE DARKNESS DRIFT AWAY
IT’S HOLDING YOUR HAND FINDING THE WILL TO FIGHT WHEN MY TRUST HAS BEEN BETRAYED
IT’S WHEN I FINALLY KNOW THAT YOUR LOVE IS LIKE COMING HOME
TO ARMS THAT WERE MADE TO HOLD ME
TO LOOKING BACK ON EVERY MEMORY
AND KNOWING MY HEART BEATS BEST WHEN IT BEATS WITH YOURS
I’LL NEVER BE THAT GIRL I WAS ONCE BEFORE
I’M DONE RUNNING, CRYING AND FEELING ALONE
I LET THE STARS GUIDE ME BACK TO YOU
BACK HOME
CUZ, BABY
YOU ARE HOME TO ME
Now that Dean is gone, The Dark Days isn’t off limits for me and I’ve been meeting with Rebel to collaborate on some new stuff. Thankfully, Peter lets us use the equipment when the bar isn’t open. Rebel doesn’t have a piano in the garage and the piano has become my respite.
I lift my hands from the keys and turn to Rebel. “It feels good to play again.”
She grins, “I have an idea.”
I shake my head vehemently because I already know her idea. “I’m not going to be your Dark Angel.”
She pouts and it’s kind of hard to take her seriously with blue hair on her head. She rocks it, though. “Please, you know you will be awesome up on this stage. Besides, I need you. I sort of screwed up and chased off our drummer.”
“How did you do that?”
She blots her lips together making a smacking sound. “Well, she complimented my lipstick and I let her taste it. She evidently wasn’t feeling the same moment I was. Things got weird and she quit last week.”
“Sh
ut up,” I say, swatting at her and laughing at that ridiculousness.
She crosses her heart. “True story. I want you to sing and I’ll step back. I need a change of scenery.” She bats her lashes that are lined with blue to match her hair, “Pretty, please?”
“Seriously, Rebel. I’d rather stick a knife in the toaster. This, in here with you…is still very personal. Like it’s still mine and no one is here to share it with besides you. I can handle this.”
She flips through the notebook where I have songs written. “I’ve always admired you,” she says looking through it and reading the song I’ve written for Josh, for myself, for this thing we call life.
“What? How come?”
She lifts a shoulder and turns back to me. “Just because. I can sing what you write me. Hell, I can play a mean guitar and rock the drums. But it’s just fun. It’s a show. You, though…what you do is realness, Riley. Your words coming out of my mouth isn’t the way it should be. You have a voice, a damn good one. You have talent, a real talent—a voice that needs to be heard. Words that you should share because—,”
“Stop, okay.”
“Just, promise you will think about it. We have a set next Friday. Dean’s gone and you have no excuse to avoid coming.” I cringe at the mention of his name. She stands on the pew, and then dramatically lies across the piano. “Come play with me, my pretty,” she purrs and puckers her lips, wiggling her fingers to herself. I laugh and roll my eyes.
“One more song, and then you’re holding my hand while your brother gives me my bird,” I say. I need that distraction. Josh is spending this weekend in New Orleans for Mardi Gras and I’m missing a first with him.
She pouts, “He uploaded another video. Have you seen it?” she asks.
He uploaded him playing I Was Wrong by Sleeperstar and dedicated to me. His caption on the video… Baby, I was wrong. We don’t have to remain in pieces. Love always, Josh.
I smile softly, “Yeah, I saw it. He’s kind of amazing, huh?”
She sighs dreamily, “Yeah, he is.”
I ignore the throbbing in my chest that never dulls and escape into the music for just a little while. Truth is I imagine it. Being on the stage with her, or on my own with a microphone in my hand bringing life to the words I’ve never let be my own.
“Oh, God. It hurts,” I cry with my eyes shut. This is nothing compared to my stars, or the treble clef heart.
I’m trying to breathe through the pain. Biting my cheek painfully until the metallic taste fills my mouth. I’m one hour into getting my musical bird on my ribs and I think I’ve died a few times already.
“The sweet kind of pain should kick in soon,” Brandt assures me.
I grit my teeth and seethe. “What is the sweet kind of pain?”
Rebel squeezes my hand. “Well, it’s a kind of pain that feels good.”
I flutter open my eyes and look between her and Brandt. Emily always said they were freaky. “What?”
Brandt grins. “You’re sweet. Pleasure and pain, baby girl. They are close friends. You will find that euphoric feeling soon and know what we mean.”
“You two are disturbed.” I squeeze my eyes shut and breathe shallowly.
I do find that sweet feeling eventually. I find it and hold onto it for dear life. For an hour it swallows up the pain that hurts and entices me with the pain that feels good. I love it. I think I could grow to become addicted to it.
“Brandt, you are a magician,” I say, admiring his art on my skin. My jaw hurts from smiling so wide.
“That’s your creation. I just brought it to life on you. Josh is going to die a thousand times over.”
Yeah. Well, as long as we die together, I’m happy.
After my tattoo I did something a little crazy. Guess I am still high on adrenaline. I uploaded my own video for Josh. My reply. I sat in my room, on my bed with my guitar and I played acoustic When You’re Gone by Avril Lavigne.
I post my first video for Josh on YouTube, sharing it with him and the rest of the world. With thousands of subscribers, and pray that he hears it the way I mean it. I shoot him an email with all of the things I never say right when I try to. I try to word it in a way that he doesn’t guess and he doesn’t wonder, but that he knows. That he knows this time…this time I don’t want to fight what we are meant to have.
Then I wait.
He doesn’t mention the email or the video when he calls. Not a single syllable about it. Actually, he sounds sad and unsure. His speech is slurred and he tells me he’s tired and had a shit day. That he just wants to go to bed and sleep it off. I get a heavy feeling in my chest, but I push down the disappointment in the fear. I don’t want to assume things anymore and so I’m not.
Josh told me a few days ago that it’s Mardi Gras and that he and Collin were going to be in NOLA, staying in a house over the weekend that his boss at the bar owned. I fought the question that wanted to roll off of my lips, “Will Natalie be there?” I knew the answer. They still worked together, kind of. I was trying to trust him. We are best friends. Best friends do that—they trust. They believe and they try. So I am.
Then he text me this morning and broke my heart a little.
Josh: I LOVE YOUR SONG. LOVE YOU SO MUCH. MISSING YOU LIKE CRAZY. I WISH YOU WERE HERE WITH ME. IT’S MY FIRST MARDI GRAS AND WE AREN’T TOGETHER. WE’VE NEVER HAD A FIRST APART. YA KNOW?
I knew. I wondered about it. Hated it.
I reply.
Me: I KNOW. I’M BUMMED ABOUT IT. MISSING YOU 2. HAVE A GREAT TIME. CATCH ME SOMETHING COOL.
Josh: IF I CATCH YOU PANTIES YA GONNA MODEL THEM, RIGHT?
Me: THEY THROW THAT?
Josh: I’VE HEARD STORIES
Me: YEAH, ME TOO. SHUT YOUR EYES WHEN THE BOOBS COME OUT – K?!?
Josh: HILARIOUS. YOUR BOOBS ARE THE ONLY ONES MY EYES WANT TO SEE. BUT FUNNY.
Me: UM…
Josh: LOL LATER PRETTY GIRL
Me: BYE JOSH. HAVE FUN!
Last night when we spoke, he seemed off, but today he seems happy. I guess he was just bummed we were apart for this first and he wishes we were. I think of other firsts. Firsts that make me want repeats and more and…him.
I feel hollow on the inside without him. I look down at my wrist where my stars remind me of him. I try to pull strength from my new tattoo that he hasn’t seen yet. I want to be like that bird, finding light in the darkness. Letting the music breathe life into my wings so I can fly. I’ve been trying so hard for him. I’ve worked so fucking hard to get him back in my life. To find me again—the me that I am with him.
That is the real me, the only me that matters. Now, he knows. I put my heart out there for him, too.
I attempt to do my best to not get on social media the rest of the day and night. I don’t want to see or know what a first Mardi Gras without me looks like, or reflect on him experiencing that first with another girl that wants to ride him, even though it was by default that she was there, not by choice, or invitation. I want him to have a good time, not that kind of good time, but a good time nonetheless. I hate that he feels sad about us, though, and my curiosity wins out. I let my phone taunt me.
I have a selfish twinge of jealousy and concern when I see the pictures of Collin and Josh on Instagram. They both look half-lit and completely sexy with smirks as they are shooting the middle finger to the camera. Another picture has me squirming in a good way and slightly annoyed because he didn't take the picture and neither did Collin, although, they are tagged in it so I could see it. Josh has his shirt off and his abs are just insane. He has his head thrown back laughing at something that must have been really funny. Collin is in the background with a beer can that he obviously had shaken because it was spraying in the air all over both of them. The tag was from @NATlicious with the comment, #SoThirsty #yum #sexy #HotPlayers #LickableMusician and then she tagged them both.
“Look at this shit. I seriously hate this bitch, Em.” I show her the pictures and she stares hard at it, then walks to the closet
without reacting. She reminds me too much of someone else I hate and loathe.
If I were honest with myself, I’d admit that I am little pissed that Natalie is at the parade with them, but I knew she would be. I am most pissed that she is snapping photos of my boyfriend's abs with thirsty comments and insinuating they are players. But then I remember that he isn’t my boyfriend, not exactly. He’s single, right? Not really. The confusion of it hurts my head like a migraine that medicine couldn’t cure.
I proceed to laugh at the series of comments to her post, though.
Collin: Creeper much? Find your own beer.
Josh: Hey C? What do you do to pestering NAT's?
Collin: swat that bitch and drink more beer.
Josh: and swat!!! *GULP*
Okay, so I hated that she is pursuing him, but I love that he is resisting. I love him.
Emily comes out of the closet with a suitcase. “Pack your shit. That is my hot player and your lickable musician. No fucking way are we letting another slunt get her claws into our men.”
I stare open mouthed at her and then squeal. “Seriously? We’re gonna go win our guys back?”
“Damn straight.”
All of our firsts were meant to be together. This would be too, if I could get there in time.
He calls me drunk later around 10:00 p.m. We are already on our way. He just doesn’t know it yet. We have five hours to go, driving straight through the night. He tells me things that I’m sure he wouldn’t be so open about if he weren’t wasted. He says there is this girl that he is crazy as hell in love with. He says she is his best friend slash more, and that the more is so much better. That she didn’t know it yet, but he has a plan for them—a plan that involved kissing, licking and lots of moaning. Then he laughs and admits he’s drunk. As if he had been hiding it well. I laugh because his words make me warm and because I have a secret. He has no idea that I’m on my way to give him everything he wants.
I hate that he is so drunk, though. I ignore it. It’s easy to do when he says things like he misses touching me, feeling my skin, hearing the sounds I make and how my body reacts to his touch. Or that he loves me, loves holding me, loves how my hair smells and feels against his face. His words, the way he breathes them through the phone affect me every time we talk. I let them affect me. I am already so excited to meet up with him again and now, I’m anxious to tell him that every first and every last would be together—only ever together.
Emerge into Forever Page 18
