Chapter Eleven
Liam
"You guys have candy apples for sale here?!" Avery says as she holds up the wrapped apple for me to see. Her hair is pulled away from her face highlighting her eyes even more than usual. "I can only find them at carnivals back home."
"What can I say? Every day is like a carnival here." I take the apple from her and add it to the trolley. We plan to make dinner for everyone tonight, and Lei asked me to pick up a few things he forgot.
Avery's killer smile is directed at me when she says, "Who knew grocery shopping could be so exciting?"
We’ve spent a lot of time together over the past several days since I’ve hijacked all of her free time outside the study-abroad program. I love watching her experience new things for the first time, especially when she’s taking pictures. Behind the camera seems to be the only time she completely drops her guard. It’s a special thing to witness.
Speaking of her camera, I watch as she rubs a spot near her neck where there’s an imprint of her camera strap. She sucks in a barely audible breath as I touch the spot as well. "Is this normal?"
She shakes her head. "I went a little overboard yesterday, but there's just so much to see. I don't want to miss anything. Who knows if I'll ever get the chance to come back?" I can tell by her immediate apologetic expression, like me, she heard the finality in that reply.
Now’s not the time to dwell on it, though. We both know she’s leaving in a few weeks. I know that’s why she didn’t want to get involved with me in the first place, but the magnetic pull between us had other ideas.
Avery and I walk the short distance to my house each carrying a bag from the corner shop. When we get inside, I take the bags from her as she looks around. It’s her first time inside our house since she only photographed us in the courtyard the last time she was here. My mates teased me relentlessly when I asked everyone to help clean up earlier today.
I take her hand. "Come on. I'll show you the best part."
Our house has a second-story balcony off the back, and we’re all proud of it. All four of us took a weekend to build a pergola along with the small outdoor kitchen. Not that it had been easy. There tends to be arguing when four blokes with different personalities live together, but I never thought I would end up arguing over the correct length nails to use.
Lei’s already at the grill when we step outside. "Alright?" he greets us while waving a spatula in the air.
I motion to the black and white striped thing covering his clothes. "Are you wearing an apron?"
He briefly looks down before explaining, "I'm wearing a white shirt."
I notice he’s a little more put together than the usual jeans and t-shirt look we all favor. "Is black-beanie coming over then?"
Lei rolls his eyes. "His name is Paul, and maybe."
"He better if he knows what's good for him," I reply in complete seriousness. Lei is a rare bloke, and I’m tired of people taking advantage of him.
Lei ignores me. "Hey, Avery. Where's your blond sidekick?"
Avery laughs. "She would just love that nickname."
"Maybe forget I said anything. She scares me a little," Lei admits.
"Probably for the best," she agrees.
"Come on, let's finish the tour." I lead her back through the house to my bedroom.
Avery takes it all in for a moment and then says, "You really are an avid reader, huh?"
I look around at the various disorganized stacks of books pretty much covering every available surface. "It's a family affliction." My parent's house looks the same. There are books in every room.
She picks up a book from one of the stacks. "Ha! I knew you had Jane Austen novels somewhere in your bedroom with all that teasing about Mr. Darcy." She holds up Persuasion as proof. "I bet Pride and Prejudice is in one of these stacks, too."
I take the book from her. "Mum must have sneaked this in one of my moving boxes."
"Sure,” she teases as she continues walking around. Granted, there isn’t much space to walk around.
"So, what's the verdict?"
She looks over at me after picking up another book. "The verdict?"
"This is my personal space. I'd be disappointed if you weren't analyzing me in some way."
Avery smiles and holds up the book in her hand. "You're an open book. I don't need to spend time analyzing you when I could just ask you instead."
That’s fair. I’m terrible at appearing mysterious.
As she continues to look around, her gaze abruptly stops on the two violins I keep in the corner of the room. She walks over and squats down to where my old violin case is propped against the wall. "Where words fail, music speaks,” she reads one of the many stickers covering the case. It just happens to be my favourite sticker. I watch as her fingers smooth over the edge where it’s threatening to peel off.
Avery stands up and turns to me with an unreadable expression on her face. "Has this always been your case?"
I push off my spot on the wall and walk closer to her. "It's more of a keepsake now."
"But you used it when you were younger?” The tone of her voice confuses me. She’s also studying my face as if it’s the first time she’s ever seen me.
"Yeah."
"Did you ever play in New York City?"
Wait. "How could you know that?"
Her eyes widen, and she sits down on my bed. "What do you remember about that trip?"
I sit down next to her and take a moment to think. "It was the first trip out of the country I took with my parents. I had this dream of busking at Lincoln Center and Washington Square Park. They made it happen."
Avery is nodding her head while disbelief is sketched all over her features.
"What am I missing?"
"I was there." She motions to the corner of the room. "I put money in that same case at Lincoln Center."
I have to think back to the people I noticed that day. There was only one person around my age that spoke directly to me. "You were wearing a red coat?"
Avery nods, eyes still wide.
The girl from my memory seems different. She seems happier without a trace of the sadness Avery carries around now. Then I realize her parents must have been with her. I take a strand of her hair between my fingers. "Your hair was shorter, much shorter."
She sucks in a breath. " Liam. "
And then I kiss her.
Chapter Twelve
Avery
It’s the most perfect first kiss I’ve ever had with someone. He’s gentle yet confident. The way his lips fit against mine, the way his hair tickles my cheek, and the way his surrounding scent comforts me and makes my heart race at the same time is all perfect.
We both linger, obviously not ready to break the connection, and his hand brushes against my cheek. The familiarity of his calloused fingers makes me smile. We share the same small space of oxygen as we both try, and fail, to get our choppy breathing under control.
There’s just no turning back now. The feelings I already have for Liam combined with the knowledge he’s the same boy from New York makes my heart steal control from my head.
Liam moves away just enough so he can look me in the eyes. "Avery, wow," he whispers.
I just nod lamely at first. Then, I decide he deserves all the words I can string together. "After I saw you in New York, I compared my feelings for every guy I met to the way you made me feel in just a few minutes. No one ever compared." It’s embarrassing to admit how much our short encounter meant to me back then.
"Hopefully, this version of Liam compares a little?" He teases.
"You know it does." I playfully push my hand against his chest, which he captures with his own.
"Wait! Do you remember seeing my parents?" No one in my present life, other than Meme, has seen us all together before. His answer is suddenly more important to me than anything else.
He’s quiet a moment, most likely searching his memory, and then says, "Yeah, your mum favored you . . . same colour hair. I don'
t remember your dad as much."
Liam witnessed one of the last completely happy moments I had with my parents. He saw the three of us together before everything changed. "As soon as we got back from that trip, Mom told us about her diagnosis."
He nods. "I wish I had a clearer picture of them in my mind."
I shake my head. "It doesn't matter. You were there."
"And so were you. Kind of like fate?"
I decide to ignore his comment. "I assumed you were American since I didn't hear you speak. I wouldn't have even made the connection without the violin case."
"Liam!" Lei calls from somewhere in the house.
"Hold that thought.” He briefly kisses me again before reluctantly leaving the room.
I stand up to shake off the past few minutes of absolute craziness. It feels as if I’m still in shock, and I know it will take a while to really believe he’s the same person. The violin case is sitting right there as proof, though.
As I look at photographs on his desk, I see my name written on an open notebook. It looks like lyrics but half of it is scratched through. I only read the first few lines before it feels as if I’m invading his privacy, but I know one line will stay with me forever. “I’m in love with a girl who can’t stay.”
When I hear him coming back, I start to step away from the desk but then see the Juilliard application at the last second.
"It's pouring out there. I guess we didn't notice." Liam's shirt is wet, and his blonde hair appears darker from the rain. "We saved most of the food, though."
I hold up the application. “Juilliard?” A school in my country, in my time zone.
“It was just a thought. I haven’t applied.” His tone is less confident than usual, and I can tell it means more to him than just a thought.
“Why not?”
“I’d have to leave my parents and the band . . . everything I have here.”
“Is that why you wanted to play at Lincoln Center?”
Liam nods before walking over to his dresser. When he pulls the wet shirt over his head, I catch a glimpse of a tattoo.
Before he can pull on a new one, I say, "Wait."
His eyes are intense as I step closer.
"I just want to see your tattoo," I explain.
I don’t even realize I’m touching him until he sucks in a breath. The same quote from his violin case is inked in handwritten script down his left side with music notes on either side of the quote. I look up at him but don’t remove my hand. His skin is warm and hard against my palm. "When did you get it?"
"When I turned eighteen." He keeps his gaze on mine, probably waiting to see if I‘m going to make the first move this time. His eyes are questioning and pleading at the same time.
I slowly move my other hand around his neck. He shivers slightly while putting his hands on either side of my waist. I notice red marks on his neck and collarbone. “More battle wounds from the violin?”
“They’re called violin love bites.” His voice is rough and low.
“We call them hickeys.”
Our lips are a breath apart, and when I make the first move, he meets me halfway as if he can’t wait another second. This kiss is more intense than our first one. Being with Liam makes all my previous experiences with guys seem forgettable.
"Time to eat!" Someone yells from the kitchen.
We only barely move apart as his forehead stays against mine and our breaths mingle in the same space. He kisses me once more while blindly grabbing for a shirt. It makes me smile even though his lips are still on mine.
Lei’s on his phone as we walk into the living room. His demeanor suddenly changes. “Yes! Just email me the details. We’ll be there. Cheers!” After he ends the call, he jumps up from the sofa. He looks at Liam with a wide smile before yelling out, “Band meeting, now!”
Eric immediately comes out of his room, but Rob takes a minute longer. I look around again as we wait. The guys’ place is a mix between traditional and modern. A beautiful antique mantel frames the fireplace, and the room is decorated with expensive looking navy wallpaper with thin gold stripes. But Lei obviously rebelled against the wallpaper since his artwork covers as much of it as possible. They’re graphic prints but with a top layer of disorderly paint strokes that, like his mural, somehow make perfect sense.
A traditional tufted leather sofa is between two glass end tables with completely ignored coasters. Other than the flatscreen television mounted on the wall, the rest of their living room is a mixture of band equipment and kicked-off tennis shoes.
When Rob finally appears, Lei says in a rush, “Guess who’s opening for Twentydust at the APS Music Festival!”
“What?!” Rob yells.
Lei nods while bouncing a little in place. “Just got the call. We’re in, mates!”
All the guys take turns congratulating each other.
When the room quiets down a bit, I ask, “When is it?”
“September,” Lei answers.
I’ll already be back home by then.
Liam gives me a look as if he knows what I’m thinking. “I’m sure it will be recorded.”
Robs nods. “If anything, Emily will want to record it.”
I smile reassuringly, but all I can think about is the fact we’ll be out of each other’s lives by then. Liam will just be a guy that I used to know.
Chapter Thirteen
Liam
As I’m waiting on stir-fry to finish cooking for lunch, I find one of Rob's favourite songs on our shared playlist. I know he has class soon, but there are zero sounds coming from behind his closed bedroom door. He always appreciates a little wake-up music. Lei and Eric are out of the house, so I don't worry about the volume as I connect my phone to the Bluetooth speaker.
It takes about a minute before Rob's bedroom door opens. "Turn it up, mate!" He takes a few long strides towards the kitchen, drops to his knees, and begins playing air guitar as if his life depends on it. His bedhead gets even worse as he adds head-banging to his performance.
I start recording him for our Facebook page. We all have access to our social media accounts, but Lei and I tend to keep up with them the most. We put short videos from our various shows on Facebook, along with moments like this.
Beethoven shows up on our Instagram page as our mascot, which he would probably hate. But again, he's a cat. So, I win . I also put pictures of the random places Rob leaves guitar picks on there. I try to keep our online presence as genuine as possible. I hate heavily edited videos and photos.
Halfway through Rob’s performance, there’s a knock on the door.
"Wait!" Rob complains as I turn down the music.
"Someone's knocking," I explain. I turn off the cooktop before making my way over to our front door. When I open it, I’m stunned silent as an older version of Rob stands on the other side. They look so similar that I have no doubt in my mind it’s him.
"Afternoon. I'm looking for Robert Taylor?" Rob has always described his father as someone constantly coming down from a high, but this bloke looks completely put together. His brown hair is neatly trimmed and styled. His gray trousers are pressed. The same copper-coloured eyes he passed on to his son are clear and focused.
Before I have the chance to answer, I feel Rob standing behind me. I brace either side of the doorway with my hands to create a barrier between Rob and his dad.
Rob's dad looks past me, and his entire expression softens. "Robert."
I can't see Rob's face, but I hear the waver in his voice when he says, "I go by Rob now."
He clears his throat. "Right . . . Rob. I like it. Social services gave me your address."
I drop one of my arms, and Rob moves to stand right next to me in the doorway. "So, you found me. What do you want?"
His dad looks unsure of himself as he says, "I just want to talk."
Rob is known for making last-minute decisions, and I have a feeling he’s doing that now. "Fine, but just for a few minutes."
He follows us into the h
ouse and then, once we’re in the kitchen, holds out his hand to me. "I'm Daniel."
I ignore his outstretched hand but reply, "Liam."
Daniel's gaze moves around the house and settles on our band equipment in the corner. I expect him to ask questions, but he just looks back at Rob instead. "Maybe we could talk alone?"
Rob immediately shakes his head. "Liam stays. If you want to talk, then talk." Then, he sits down at the kitchen table, and I move in order to stand directly behind him.
Daniel starts to move hair away from his brow, and it’s such a classic Rob move, I have to stop myself from reacting. He drops his hand back on the counter before giving Rob all his attention. "I'm sorry."
With those two words, Rob starts trembling, but his tone is nonchalant when he asks, "For what?"
"For all of it. For everything." Daniel grips the counter. “I was so young—”
Rob cuts him off. "Sure, when I was born you were young. I’ll give you that. What about when I was seven? Or when I was nine?”
I think again about Rob as the black and blue nine-year-old boy sitting on the bench next to me at social services. I’d seen the first-hand evidence of how his father treated him back then.
After I found Rob again through the band advert, I knew it had to be fate. He’s been my best mate ever since, and I will protect him against this tosser if need be.
Rob continues, “What about when I was fourteen? How many chances am I supposed to give you?”
"Just one more, Rob. You don’t understand. I was an addict. Then, your mom left, and I had no one."
"You had me! I should have been enough. You should have gotten clean for me ." Rob's voice breaks on the last word.
I put my hand on his shoulder.
Daniel’s gaze briefly drops to my hand. I can’t decipher his accompanying look, though. Does he wonder who I am to Rob? Does it bother him that he doesn’t know a thing about his son’s life?
"Why now? Why are you even here?" Rob asks.
"I've been clean for two years. I thought maybe that was enough time to convince you I've changed. I'm your only family—”
Please Stay for Me (The Brotherhood Series) Page 8
