Seven Ways to Lose Your Heart

by Tiffany Truitt

  Fuck.

  Annabel flips her hair, turns on her heel, and heads toward the man who’s in charge of setting everything up. By the time I catch up with her, she already has the binder full of song choices in her hand.

  “You do realize there are like close to a hundred people in here, right?” I ask, hoping to psych her out of going up there.

  “You mean a hundred drunk people. Which means anything I sing will sound pretty good.”

  Point to Annabel.

  I clear my throat. “Well, I’ll let you get to it then.”

  “Where are you going?” she asks as I turn toward the bar. I don’t miss the small note of panic in her voice, and I know this battle is not entirely lost.

  “Going to get another drink. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to get you one, too. No doubt, you’ll need it before going up in front of all those people.”

  By the time I return with two shots of whiskey, I’m pretty sure there’s sweat on Annabel’s brow. “Pick a good one?” I ask, handing Annabel her drink. She nods, her legs bouncing up and down like she’s sending out a Morse code message. She moves the glass of whiskey back and forth from one hand to the other. “Did the guy say how long it would be until you were up? I want to make sure I have enough time to secure a seat right in the front,” I continue to prod her.

  “You’re up, honey bun,” the karaoke guy says.

  Annabel throws back the shot of whiskey and heads onto the stage without speaking a word to me. It reminds me of watching golf, a sport that is oddly mesmerizing. One day, I was pretty hungover after a rager at my friend’s house, and the only comfort I found in the entire world was lying on the couch and praying not to meet the porcelain god. Too lazy to search for the remote, I lay there watching hours and hours of golf.

  The way the players seemed to be able to freeze the whole world and time itself before taking their shot. The way they stared down that ball, willing it to defy gravity itself. That’s the way Annabel looks as she walks onto the stage.

  Now that the music has stopped, a few people, those not too drunk or high, notice Annabel, which results in a few catcalls. Every time some idiot yells out a dumbass comment, she turns a shade paler until I’m pretty sure she looks more like Casper the Friendly Girl than Le Chat I’ve come to know and love.

  “Shows us your tits,” someone yells as the organizer hands Annabel the mic.

  “Why don’t you show us your dick, so we can all have a good laugh,” she snaps into the microphone. Now, if she was hoping to avoid getting the attention of every single person in the bar, that was not the way to do it.

  Soon almost every single girl in the place is cheering while most of the boys are laughing. I can’t help but chuckle and clap myself. She is one hell of a ballbuster, and I adore her for it. My amusement is short-lived as I realize that now all eyes are on her as the music starts.

  Oh. Shit. I can’t believe I made her do this. I feel awful. Annabel looks like she’s about two seconds from puking. And then there is her song choice. “Wait,” she mumbles into the microphone, frantically looking for the man responsible for the karaoke, “this isn’t the song I chose.”

  “Just sing already,” yells some douche.

  “Kennedy, this is not the song I picked,” she calls out to me, wide-eyed.

  Fuck.

  With three giant strides and a leap, I’m on the stage with Annabel in a matter of seconds. No, I highly doubt that Annabel Lee chose Drake’s “Hotline Bling” as her karaoke song of choice. Finally deciding to show back up, the karaoke coordinator hands me a mic. And in that moment, I’m left with no other choice than to sing Drake. To a crowd full of people.

  I promised her on that bluff that I was here for her now.

  “You use to call me on your cell phone…” I sing. A few girls hoot and holler, no doubt telling their friends this is their jam. Annabel stares at me slack-jawed, so I just continue singing. When I finally manage to get to the musical interlude, I grab Annabel by the shirt and pull her close to me. “I need your help, Le Chat. I can’t do this on my own,” I say into her ear. “You got my back?” I ask. “Just like in the old days?”

  Annabel nods, her face still an alarming shade of white. So white, it’s almost clear. Her hand shakes as she brings the mic to her lips. We got this, I mouth to her.

  Annabel Lee starts singing the Drake song. I’m not sure what I’m more surprised at: that she knows every word or how she begins to sway back and forth to the beat. This certainly gets the attention of the men in the room, who begin to cheer.

  “Get it, girl,” a chick from the back of the bar yells out.

  Maybe it’s because of the girl’s support or the whiskey doing its job or maybe she’s even enjoying herself, but Annabel starts to sing even louder. And as the crowd noise grows, so does my own confidence. It’s infectious. Their support. It fills me up and ignites me more than any whiskey could, and it’s no wonder people love doing this for a living.

  I reach forward and tug on Annabel’s shirt, pulling her close enough to where my body is almost pressed up against hers. I begin to move to the beat with her. The closer we get to each other, the more the crowd goes wild. Annabel starts laughing between the words of the lyrics, her free hand reaching up and pulling on my shirt. She moves against me, and I don’t worry about the fact that she can probably feel what it does to me.

  There’s no hiding it anymore. I wrap an arm around her waist and press my forehead against hers. She’s grinning into the microphone, and I know I’m probably smiling like an idiot, too. We’re singing in unison now, and my mind is racing with all the things I want to do to her when we get back to the hotel.

  The whole crowd is with us now, singing at the top of their lungs, and I’m pretty shocked at the number of people who know the words to a Drake song. I’d take Annabel right here on this stage if I thought I could get away with it.

  This is my Annabel Lee.

  When the song finishes, Annabel drops the mic to the floor and throws her arms around my neck. I wrap my arms even tighter around her waist, lifting her up off the ground. Her legs encircle my waist. “Let’s get out of here, Annabel Lee,” I whisper into her ear.

  By the time we get to the hotel room and check in, I expected some of the high from the bar to wear off, but my need to completely ravish Annabel Lee is still as strong as ever. She sang Drake all the way home, laughing and grabbing at my hand every time she came to the chorus.

  “So…you actually got two beds,” Annabel notes as we enter the room. If I’m not mistaken, I think I can hear a bit of disappointment in her voice.

  “Looks like I did,” I say with a sigh, dropping our bags by my feet. I had asked for two beds at the other hotel as well, but they’d messed up. Of all the times for a hotel staff to be efficient. You’ve got to be kidding me, Kanye.

  Maybe it’s the sight of the beds or the frigid temperature of the hotel room, but whatever it is, it appears to start to sober Annabel up a bit. Not that I would want whatever went down between us to only happen because of the whiskey. The mood just feels different.

  “I’m going to get changed into my pajamas. I’m exhausted,” Annabel says, picking up her duffel bag and slinging it over her shoulder before heading into the bathroom. The fact that she went into the other room to change and the comment about being tired is about as close to “I have a headache” as you can get.

  I get it. Maybe she’s just not ready, or maybe I’m just not a risk she’s ready to take. I have to be okay with that. I am okay with that, because her friendship means more to me. I crouch down and search my bag for a water and a bottle of aspirin. Annabel comes out of the bathroom wearing a pair of gray leggings and an oversize Drunk History T-shirt. Her hair is thrown back up into a ponytail.

  She’s still the damn sexiest girl I’ve ever shared a bed with.

  “Here. It’s always a good idea after a night of drinking to guzzle a bottle of water and take a few aspirin,” I say, holding out both to her. “A
lso, do you have a preference to which bed you want?”

  Annabel stares at me for a moment without speaking. Maybe she’s drunker than I originally thought she was. Before I can ask if she’s all right, she rushes toward me and throws herself into my arms. Both the water and bottle of aspirin fall to the ground as I attempt to catch her. Except I only half catch her as both of us topple to the floor.

  Annabel Lee lands right on top of me. And despite this being the start of many a fantasy involving the girl lying on me, I have to ask the most obvious question: “Annabel Lee, are you wasted?” I reach up and cradle her face in my hands.

  “Shut up,” she demands. And so I do. Because when a hot girl literally throws herself on you, you do whatever the hell she wants you to do. “This is really stupid,” she says, shaking her head. “You’re really stupid.”

  “I’m really stupid,” I agree, nodding furiously. Not quite sure why I’m agreeing or what I’ve done to deserve the comment. Not that I really care in the moment.

  “So fucking stupid,” she says. And then she leans down and gently presses her lips against mine. So softly that at first I’m not entirely sure it’s actually happening. Of course, there’s a certain part of my body that fully understands exactly what is happening.

  Annabel pulls away, and her eyes widen slightly. And then her lips are back on mine, and I don’t wait this time to see if it’s real or just a dream. I press back, sucking in slightly on that damn beautiful full bottom lip of hers. Annabel moans, and I’m about to lose my mind. She parts her lips, and I don’t wait to graze my tongue against hers.

  Everything inside me tightens.

  The kiss deepens as my hands move from her cheeks to her hair, pulling out the rubber band that holds it up. Her hair falls over us, and I can smell the lavender from her shampoo, and I know I’ll forever connect that scent with this moment. I get so lost in the kiss that I’m finding it harder and harder to breathe.

  Annabel is the first to pull away. She shifts up on her knees, and I think my fears are about to be confirmed when, instead of ending the moment, she straddles me. She’s all breathy and flushed and beautiful and perfect. Slowly, she begins to rock her hips, and I’m the one moaning as she moves against me. I can see her nipples are hard through her T-shirt, and I can’t quell my need to feel those breasts under my hands any longer. I reach up a hand and run it under her shirt. Annabel arches her back as my hand cups her breast. My other hand rests firmly on her hip as she continues to grind against me.

  I gently rub my fingers against her nipple, and she gasps. She moves harder and faster against me, and it takes everything in me not to let go right then and there. Damn, this girl really has me going. I move my hand from her waist, cradle her back, and shift my weight so we’re both sitting up. Caught off guard by my sudden movement, Annabel stops moving, but that doesn’t mean I’m done. I lift her shirt up and gently lick her nipple.

  And Annabel’s back to moving against me like her life depends on it.

  I pull her whole nipple into my mouth and gently suck. Her hands find my hair, and she pulls. The harder she pulls, the harder I suck. Her moans come faster and louder, quickly replaced by all the cuss words in all of the languages ever created.

  I move my mouth away from her breast only because I want to suck on that damn bottom lip of hers again. I feverishly kiss my way up her chest, her neck, her face, until I find those lips. I take her all in, and it’s the damn sweetest mouth Kanye ever created.

  Now I’m the one moaning and groaning and cussing. Part of me contemplates moving this to one of the beds, but there comes a point where there’s no hope of stopping a runaway train. Annabel cries out, and I’m not far behind her.

  Soon, we lie side by side on the floor. Out of breath. Sweaty. And spent. And yet both still fully clothed.

  “Now, that was one hell of a first kiss,” I pant.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Kennedy

  I’m not entirely sure how or when, but sometime after I took a shower and booted my laptop to write about our performance singing karaoke, I ended up pushing the two beds together. When I woke up this morning, Annabel was so curled up against me that it would be hard for someone to tell where she started and I ended.

  One of my arms rests over her waist while the other is up her shirt, my hand resting comfortably over her breast. Her back presses against my chest, and that perfect little ass of hers lies dangerously close to my panic button.

  With as little movement as I can manage, I turn and place my finger on the track pad of my laptop to check what time it is. It’s then I see that sometime in the middle of the night, Annabel must have gotten up and read over the latest addition to my article. Using Microsoft tracked changes, she added all these little notes about things she liked and things she thought I could improve. If it were any other girl in the entire world, I would see it as an invasion of privacy. You never read an author’s work without permission. But it doesn’t feel that way with her. Any secret parts of my soul I shared within those documents, I have already shared with her.

  And I know that the only thing she has ever truly wanted for me is a better life and a chance to become a legit published writer. Scrolling through the notes, they’re detailed and intense, and I wonder how long she spent working on this in the middle of the night. I think about the way she takes care of her family, putting everything and everyone before her own needs. Has she ever truly done anything for herself?

  I’m not talking about doing things to pursue her dreams. Annabel Lee is a hell of a go-getter, and there’s no doubt she will do whatever is in her power to make sure she succeeds. The dares last night are proof of that. I mean something just for the sake of it making her feel good. Or free. Or pleasure. Just about her and her alone.

  I turn back over and pull Annabel tighter against me. I nuzzle the side of her neck and kiss her gently there. With my fingers, I draw delicate circles around her breast. Annabel sighs, and I know she’s awake.

  I move my hand from her breast to her arm, knowing that if I let it wander there, I won’t be able to control myself. And this moment isn’t about my needs or wants. I rub the tips of my fingers down her arm and grab her hand, pulling it slowly toward me. She doesn’t speak, doesn’t turn to face me or even acknowledge we’re both awake, but I feel her with me. She’s with me.

  I bring her hand to my mouth and slide two of her fingers in. I lick my tongue against them. She quietly gasps. I pull her fingers from my mouth and guide them under her shirt, slowly down her stomach. If she wants me to stop, she’ll tell me. She’s that kind of girl, and I think I love her for it.

  My hand grazes the lace of her panties, and I feel myself harden. I push her fingers under until she has found herself. With my hand on top of hers, I move her fingers slowly in circles. I hear her breath catch.

  I want to take her right then and there.

  Has this girl ever done this for herself? Anything that just made her feel good? It’s been about nothing but rules and control since the accident. I wonder how long it’s been since she just let herself feel.

  Her body begins to shift, and I can tell she wants to move her fingers faster. She’s close. But it’s not a race to the finish line. I want her to enjoy this. Enjoy herself. I pull her hand up and lick her fingers once again, enjoying the taste of her. Hating myself a little for how good it makes me feel. She shudders, and for a moment I think we’re both done for.

  Annabel tugs her hand from mine and returns it to herself. She moans softly, and I could write a whole damn opera to it. Her backside moves against me and she gets close. Her free hand fumbles back, and I can tell she’s about to reach for me. I catch it and freeze it in place.

  I kiss each of her fingers and watch as she takes pleasure in herself. It might just be the sexiest, hottest thing I’ve ever seen. The way her face transforms from a look of complete concentration to utter surrender. Her head tilts back, and I want so bad to press my lips against that bottom lip that it’s legi
t physically painful. When she finally cries out, that sound that lets me know she found herself in all the right and wondrous ways, I push the hair off her forehead and place a gentle kiss there.

  “Good morning,” I whisper.

  Annabel’s eyes go wide as if she suddenly remembers I’m in the room. Her face flashes red and she pulls the blanket over her head and groans. I attempt to yank the covers down, but she holds them tightly in place. “What’s wrong, Le Chat?” I ask, a feeling of dread settling over me.

  What if she regrets what happened between us last night?

  Annabel doesn’t answer, and I fear the worst is true. “Please, Annabel, don’t shut me out. What’s wrong?”

  “I’m embarrassed,” she mumbles from under the covers.

  “Embarrassed?” I ask, not quite getting what she’s talking about.

  Annabel pushes out air between her clenched teeth as she pulls the covers down from her face. “Please don’t make me say it,” she says, looking up at me and pleading.

  “Please don’t make me sit here and agonize over what you’re referencing,” I beg.

  “About what just happened,” she says quietly.

  “You’re embarrassed about what just happened? Holy shit, Annabel. Don’t you ever feel embarrassed about that. That was, hands down, the hottest thing I have ever seen. Have you looked at your body? Who wouldn’t want to enjoy the hell out of that? If I were you, I’d be touching myself all the time.”

  “You’re making fun of me,” Annabel accuses. She starts to pull the blanket back up.

  I snatch the blanket before she can hide from me again. “I’m a jackass, Annabel Lee, but never would I make fun of something like that. You’re damn sexy. And you should enjoy yourself whenever humanly possible.”

  Annabel bites down on her bottom lip, staring up at me.

  “See,” I say, reaching forward and rubbing my thumb against her bottom lip, “that right there is enough to topple countries.”