Than words ever can understand.
Ayden’s actions are beautiful,
And tell me all I need to know,
Feed my soul and give me hope.
“What can I do to make tonight up to you?” he asks when we finally come up for air.
“You don’t need to make anything up to me.” I hitch my arms around him. “We had our first fight. So what? It was bound to happen sometime.”
“Okay, then what should we do to celebrate”—he glances at the hot tub—“because I think sitting in the hot tub is off the table.”
I thrum my finger against my lip. “I have an idea.”
He eyes me over with suspicion. “You have that look in your eye.”
“What look?” I bat my eyelashes innocently.
He gives me a blank stare. “The look that means you’re about to get us into trouble.”
“I promise we won’t get in trouble. You might not be too thrilled about it, though.”
Before he can press for more details, I snatch ahold of his hand and drag him toward his house.
As we’re rounding the fence, I notice a maroon SUV parked in front of his house.
“So, that’s the infamous detective?” I smile at the car and give a little wave.
“You’re such a weirdo,” he jokes then steers me toward the backdoor of his house.
The alarm goes off when we enter, and he hurries through the darkness to turn it off. I flip on the lights and bend down to untie my boots.
I feel him move up behind me before I actually see him.
“Hey.” I stand upright, my back aligning with his chest.
As he circles his arms around my waist, the air feels electric, sharp zaps biting at my skin.
He rests his chin on my shoulder. “So, what did you want to do?”
“I was thinking we could work on that song we’ve been writing . . . and you could sing it for me.”
“I knew you were up to something, but I already told you I can’t sing.”
“I’ll be the one to decide that.” I start to turn around to head for the kitchen, but he tightens his hold on me.
“Are you sure that’s what you want to do?” There’s a playfulness to his voice that’s got me really curious where he’s going with this.
“Yeah, you kind of owe me.” It’s a lie. He doesn’t owe me anything, but I really want to hear him sing.
“Oh, yeah?” His lips dip toward my neck. “How do you figure?”
“Because you . . .” My eyes roll back, and my knees almost buckle as he sucks on the side of my neck.
The harder he sucks, the more difficult it becomes to keep my legs under me. Fortunately, he has his arms around me and keeps me from toppling to the ground.
“You sure you still want to hear me sing?” His warm breath falters against my neck. “Because I could . . . I could keep doing this.”
After I regain my breath, I glare at him from over my shoulder. “Don’t try to play me like a sucker. I know you’re trying to distract me, and it’s not going to work.” I slip out from under his arms and grab his hand. “Now, get your ass upstairs and sing for me so I can see if I’m ever going to be able to live out my dream of doing a duet with you.” I haul him toward the kitchen, giving a playful glance over my shoulder. “And, when we’re done, you can suck on my neck some more as punishment for trying to play me.”
“I’m all for the sucking on the neck part, but don’t say I didn’t warn you about the singing thing.”
“Let me be the judge of that.”
Even though I have no clue what his singing voice sounds like, the dreamer side of me believes it’s going to be low and smooth, like honey, and absolutely, one hundred percent dripping with sexiness. He may not agree with me, but he has zero confidence and doesn’t believe anything about him is good.
When we enter his room, I release his hand and cross my arms, refusing to let him off the hook, even when he gives me his sad, puppy dog eyes.
“All right, Shy Boy, show me what you’ve got.”
I LOVE YOU. SHE SAID she loves me.
Love. Love. Love.
At first, I thought she was kidding.
I could see on her face that she wasn’t, though. I thought about talking her out of it, telling her she really doesn’t love me—couldn’t—but the longer I stared at her, the more I could see how truthful she was being. There was no way I was going to be able to talk her out of it.
It was that look that made me pinkie swear that I wouldn’t go looking for those places. I will keep my word, too, no matter how bad things get, because she’s Lyric and I . . .
I, what exactly?
I think deep down I know just how much I care about her.
Enough that I would give up almost anything.
Lyric watches me as I situate on the bed with my guitar on my lap. Her eyes are lit up with anticipation that my voice is going to sound amazing, and I feel bad that, in a moment, I’m going to let her down.
“Are you sure you want me to do this?” I ask, lining my fingers along the strings. “Because, once I sing, there’s no going back. That dream of yours will forever be crushed.”
She bounces down on the foot of the bed. “Just do it, Shy Boy.” She snaps her fingers impatiently. “Stop procrastinating.”
She’s still wearing her bikini, and the sight of her skin and curves is a nice distraction from the fact that I’m about to sing in front of someone for the very first time.
“All right, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” I lean back against the headboard and think of which song to play. My instinct tells me to go with a cover song, but then I figure, if I’m doing this, I might as well go all the way and sing one of my own songs.
As I open my mouth, I have no idea which song is going to come out.
“Stuck in the dust
Of a soul that was crushed,
I silently bleed in the stillness.
Aching inside, most days I feel like I’m losing my mind.
I’m dying inside.
And no one can help me.”
I play a few more chords as I sing the chorus.
“Stuck in a sea of pain,
I thought nothing would ever change,
That my life would always be this way.”
My fingers strum the strings.
“You blindsided me out of nowhere,
Right when I was about to surrender to the darkness,
Swallow it down with a handful of pills and sink to the bottom of the water.
Take away the pain so I can’t feel it anymore.
So close to the edge,
You offered me your hand and dragged me to the shore.”
I stop playing, even though the song isn’t finished, because Lyric is crying. Hot tears spill down her cheeks as she hugs her knees to her chest.
“Fuck, I’m sorry.” I set my guitar aside and scoot down to the bottom of the bed beside her. “I don’t know why I picked that song. I should have sung something different. Something happier.”
“Is it true?” More tears stream from her eyes and down her cheeks. “Did you really think about taking your own life?”
I want to lie to her, but she deserves better.
“I used to, but I haven’t thought about it since . . . well, since you and I became friends.”
“Oh, Ayden, I never knew it was that bad for you.” She slides her legs to the side of the bed and throws her arms around me.
“It’s not that bad anymore.” I breathe in the scent of her as I wrap my arms around her. “I promise.”
I close my eyes and breathe in the truth. Yes, there’s a ton of bad stuff going on in my life, but the darkness that used to grasp me by the ankles and wrists has lightened. The pain isn’t so heavy, the scars easier to bear. But, if I’d never met Lyric and the Gregorys, I’m not sure I would have ever made it here to this moment.
“Your voice is beautiful, by the way,” she whispers. “Even better than I thought it was going to b
e, so now you have no more excuses not to sing with me.”
I want to argue with her, tell her she’s wrong. My voice isn’t beautiful. I can’t sing with her. Instead, I decide to nod and enjoy the moment I almost didn’t have.
THE WEEK IS FAIRLY UNEVENTFUL, maybe even a little on the normal side. By Friday, I no longer have a detective tailing my every move. I make sure to do everything I’m supposed to and don’t wander off. My life consists of school, band practice, therapy, family time, and Lyric.
Lyric, Lyric, Lyric. I spend all my free time with her, yet it still never feels like enough. I don’t know what’s happening to me exactly, but something is definitely changing.
“Knock. Knock. Knock.” Lyric raps her hand on the doorframe as she strolls into my bedroom with her sketchbook tucked under her arm. She’s wearing a short purple dress, her leather jacket, and black platforms. Her hair is wild around her face, and her lips are stained pink and look absurdly tempting. “Happy tattoo day, Shy Boy.”
I prop my guitar against the wall, swing my legs over the edge, and stand to my feet. “Did you finish up the sketch?”
She bobs her head up and down enthusiastically. “I did. You want to see it?”
“Of course.” I reach to take the sketchbook, but she dodges out of my reach.
A slow, conniving grin spreads across her face. “It’ll cost you.”
My arm falls to my side, and my lips twitch with amusement. “What’s the price?”
She taps a finger against her lips. “Let me think about this. Something pretty awesome, of course, since this is a freaking amazing sketch. Not money. Not anything materialistic. How about a cookie . . . ? No, that doesn’t seem very awesome. I could always make you do a striptease.”
“Lyric”—laughter bursts from my lips—“just tell me what you want.”
“Oh, fine. Take all the fun out of this.” She fakes a pout, but her smile almost instantly lights up her face again. “It’ll cost you a kiss.”
“That’s it?”
“What can I say? Your kisses are pretty valuable.”
Insert awkwardness on my part. I’ve never been good with compliments.
“I don’t think my kisses are that valuable, but if that’s what you want, then I’ll give it to you.” I step forward, slide my hand around her back, and reel her in for a kiss.
The kiss is quick, but leaves me breathless. When I start to move away, Lyric’s arm snakes around my back, and she pushes me right back against her.
“A little bit longer, please,” she begs, arching her chest toward me.
I easily give her what she asks and slip my tongue inside her mouth, kissing her the way she deserves. The kiss goes on for seconds, minutes, hours . . . so long I lose track of time.
Out of breath, I finally have to pull away, giving her bottom lip a gentle nip. She shudders in my arms, and I nearly stop breathing.
God, how can I be alive when my heart is beating so quickly?
“Okay, that definitely earned you the reward of seeing this.” Her voice is gravelly. She clears her throat before opening the sketchbook and hands it to me. “So, what do you think?”
Lines trace the pages and form shapes and swirls, dark and bright shades and vivid colors, patterns that all surround a fiery gold and red bird with its wings spread wide.
God, this must have taken her forever.
“It’s a phoenix,” she explains, “which is supposed to mean rebirth and strength. I thought it was pretty fitting.”
That’s how she sees me? For some reason, the thought causes my heart to swell inside my chest.
I smooth my hand over the page. “It’s amazing. More than amazing. I don’t even know what to say.”
“So, you like it?”
“It’s perfect. I don’t think you could have done anything more perfect.” I shake my head in awe. “God, Lyric, this is amazing. I mean, I know you’re talented, but . . . This must have taken you days to draw.”
“Nah, it didn’t take that long.” She waves me off. “But I was freaking out that you would hate it.”
“No, I love it.” I love you. I shake the thought from my head and thank her by kissing her again.
“Oh, a bonus payment.” Her lips move against mine as she cracks a joke.
“You can have as many bonus payments as you want. I owe you a ton, anyway, for putting up with my shit the other night. I should have never upset you like that. I didn’t realize that you . . .” I kiss her again and again, tipping her head back and tangling our tongues, her lips hot and inviting.
Moaning, she grips at my arms and clutches onto me as I lower her to the bed.
“As much as I love where this is going,” she murmurs as her back is just about to touch the mattress, “on my way up here, I was told to make sure to tell you that we have to leave in no less than five minutes; otherwise, we’ll be late for your appointment.”
I grunt in response, and she erupts with laughter.
“I’ve never heard you sound that frustrated before. That was pretty funny.”
“You think that’s funny?” My hand skates around to her ribcage, and I tickle her.
“Hey!” she gripes, writhing below me. “That’s not fair.”
“How do you figure?” I tickle her again, secretly loving how her hips thrust against mine every time she moves.
“Because I just gave you the most awesomest sketch of a tattoo ever. That definitely earns me a no-tickling-for-a-while pass.”
“Oh, fine.” I tickle her a few more times then push off her and offer my hand.
“Are you nervous?” she asks as I pull her to her feet.
“Yeah,” I admit with a shaky breath.
“Don’t worry, I’ve heard it can be more of a high than painful,” she says as I slip on my boots.
“I’m not worried about the pain. Pain’s fine.” I rake my fingers through my hair as we head out of my room and toward the stairs. “I’m just worried about, you know”—I gesture at my side—“my shirt pulled up and someone being that close to me and touching me. What if I freak out or something?”
“That’s why I’m going with you,” she reminds me as we reach the bottom of the stairs. “I’ll hold your hand and keep you so entertained with my charming personality that you’ll barely pay attention to anything else. I’ve even been saving up some juicy gossip for this particular occasion.”
“Since when do you gossip?”
“Since this morning when all hell broke loose at the Scott’s home.”
I bend over to lace my boot. “Is everything all right?”
“It will be as soon as the drama passes.”
“You guys ready to go?” Ethan asks as he strolls into the kitchen, swinging the car keys around his finger.
“Surely-durely,” Lyric singsongs. When I stand upright, she grabs my hand and jerks me toward the door. “Come on, let’s go get the past taken off you.”
Twenty minutes later, Ethan is parking the car near the side of town that is enclosed by small shops and restaurants. Ethan owns the one on the corner, a few blocks down from the tattoo shop.
Inside, the windows and walls are decorated with different drawings and images, and in the center of the room is a display case. In the back corner is a curtain, and I can hear a needle buzzing from behind it.
Ethan starts chatting with his buddy, Cole, whose arms and neck are covered with ink.
“Is it doable?” Ethan asks as Cole studies Lyric’s sketch.
“It’ll definitely take a couple of sessions.” He examines the drawing closely then looks at me. “Can I see the tattoo you have now? I just want to make sure this will cover it up.”
I glance at Lyric, who gives me an encouraging smile, then step forward and lift up my shirt, revealing the inked patterns that form a jagged circle along my scarred skin.
Cole bends over and squints at the tat. “Whoa, that is probably one of the worst tattoo jobs I’ve ever seen.” He stands upright and frowns at Ethan. “On the pho
ne, you said it was homemade, but I didn’t think it would be that bad.”
“So, you can’t fix it?” Ethan asks, casting a concerned glance in my direction.
My muscles ravel into knots. All this time, I was so focused on getting the actual tattoo that I didn’t even consider it might not be able to be covered up. The idea of having it on my body forever sends my stomach dropping.
Cole rubs his jawline. “I didn’t say that. I just said I didn’t expect it to be that bad.” He lowers his hand. “I can cover it up, but the raised scarring will still be there.”
“That’s fine,” Ethan says, crossing his arms. “We didn’t expect you to be able to cover up all the scars. We just don’t want to be able to see any of the ink that’s already there.”
“Well, then that works.” He looks at the drawing again as he backs up toward the curtain. “Let me go get this drawn up, and then we’ll go from there.”
“You going to be okay?” Ethan turns to me after Cole disappears through the curtain.
I sink into a chair near the front door. “Yeah, I’m just a little nervous.”
“That’s understandable. If you need anything, just say so, okay?”
I nod, and he stuffs his hands into his pockets then wanders off to look at the framed sketches on the wall.
I lower my head, rest my arms on my knees, and take a few measured breaths, trying to calm myself down.
Lyric plops down beside me and nudges my boot with her foot. “So, I learned interesting stuff today.”
“About your family?” I raise my head up to look at her.
She shakes her head. “Nah, I’m saving that juicy story for when you’re actually getting the tattoo. But this story is mildly entertaining. It’s about Sage and Maggie.”
My brows dip. “I thought they hated each other.”
“Well, apparently, there’s a thin line between love and hate, or so I’ve been told. And they fooled around at a party a while ago.” She tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Sage told me about it today in class, which FYI, I think he’s starting to see me as a dude. He kept giving me all the details about Maggie’s hot body, which I so didn’t want to hear.”
I laugh because she’s so far from wrong. “He doesn’t see you as a dude. He’s probably just trying to make you jealous.”
Unraveling You Series: The Complete Set Page 39
