Two students came through the door behind me as I curled into the chair again. Noise rang from inside the café with reminders of the life I wasn’t ready to part with. For Mom’s sake and mine, I had to find a way.
I stretched my shirt cuffs over my hands. In that cold wicker chair on the lamp-lit patio, I held in the warmth from the afterglow of being in Riley’s arms and prayed there was enough grace left to keep me from losing everything.
chapter nineteen
Paralyzed
Five days of bolstered hope. Having an interview lined up with Clear Channel might’ve had something to do with it. Spending every day with Riley didn’t hurt either.
Despite a sense of turmoil he tried to hide, he made each moment together feel like a gift to savor. Moments I should be content with. Spending afternoons with him, listening to music, enjoying Oregon’s beauty.
Moments like this one.
He sat less than five feet away from me on the sports field—guitar resting in his lap, strap unfastened, a small memo pad and pen in the grass inches from his knees. His hands glided up and down the face of the guitar. The strings fit into grooves embedded in his fingertips after years of playing. Captivating and inspiring as usual.
“So, when do I get to hear the song you’ve been working on all semester?”
His fingers froze. “I haven’t finished the lyrics yet.”
“Your songs don’t need lyrics.” I reclined across the blanket, propped up on my elbows as his attentive audience. “I’m sure it’s amazing already.”
He twisted the tuning keys and ran his sleeve across his forehead. Was he blushing?
“I’m not making you nervous, am I?”
He tossed his head back with a groan. “You have no idea.”
But as his fingers mastered a melody more beautiful than the tree-lined backdrop behind him, I couldn’t imagine a hint of nerves interfering with his talent. The notes wound around me in ribbons of artistry, clothing me in an embrace I never wanted to release.
Three girls passing on the sidewalk stopped to watch from a distance. I could practically hear their collective sigh from here. All giggly and doe-eyed, they probably thought Riley was playing a love song to his girlfriend. I might be tempted to wish the same if wishing didn’t cost so much.
“That was gorgeous.” I traced the stitching along the blanket. “What’s it about?”
“Thought my songs didn’t need any words.” His grin tipped with the guitar.
Darn smile. “So, you’re gonna make me guess?” I sat up, crisscrossed my arms, and eyed him like a detective. “It sounded like it could’ve been a love song.”
He fastened and unfastened the guitar strap, avoided my stare. “All music has a thread of love woven into it.”
“Wow. Okay, Mr. Elusive, now you definitely have to tell me the lyrics.”
He scratched his neck behind his ear. “Not today.”
“Oh, that’s fair.” I hurled a guitar pick at him. “Well, those girls over there seem to agree with me. So, I guess consensus rules.”
“What?” He turned, squinted. “There’s no way they heard the music from that far away.”
“Doesn’t matter. Girls have some sort of love radar. They’re standing over there dreaming about diamonds right now.”
He set the guitar on the blanket. “C’mon, diamonds? They’re probably just chatting about classes. I doubt they’re dreaming up love stories on their way to Calculus.”
“I’m telling you. It’s a girl thing. After all those Disney fairy tales we grew up with, we can have our eyes open or closed and still be dreaming.”
“Oh really? So, you could be daydreaming right now.”
I threw him a replica of his usual impish grin. “You’ll never know.”
“Now who’s not being fair?” He tossed the guitar pick back at me.
I laughed with him, loving the sound. “Dreams are overrated. Diamonds too. When my dad proposed, he gave my mom a sapphire. Said it matched her angel eyes, and the ring was a reminder of the gift God had given him. He always told me I’d find that same gift one day.” I lifted the pearl on my necklace and twisted it around. “I know. A sapphire engagement ring is a little . . . unique.”
Riley shook his head but didn’t lower his gaze from mine. “Actually, it doesn’t surprise me. There’s very little about you, Emma Matthews, that isn’t unique.”
The pearl dropped back to my shirt. It killed me when he said things like that. With such sincerity, such conviction, I could melt into every word. Believe them.
Megan’s comment from that day in the locker room rushed in again. “Riley Preston doesn’t date.” Would he ever? Could I be enough to change his mind? Enough to love?
I swirled my fingers through the grass folding over the blanket.
He angled his head toward mine. “What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing.” I plucked a blade of grass and drew figure eights over my palm with the tip. “Do you think love is one of those things worth hoping for?”
I couldn’t bring myself to look up. Especially when he didn’t answer right away.
“Do you?” he said slowly.
Deep inhale. I couldn’t lie. Not to him. “To be honest, sometimes I wish I didn’t. It’d be easier that way. Less painful. But I guess your heart doesn’t always cooperate.”
His face strained the same way it had numerous times today, as if caught between two opposing emotions. “Your dad wanted you to hope for love because he had faith you’d find it. And so should you.”
I almost reached for him, but he broke eye contact, swallowed. He slid a notebook out from under the guitar and toyed with the spiral binding. “We should keep practicing for your interview at Clear Channel. We’re running out of time.”
Time. My dreaded enemy. I fell backward onto the blanket under the shadow of an approaching storm. “I’d rather listen to you play.”
“That’s not gonna help you nail these questions.”
It might. His music had a way of soothing the restlessness in my heart like nothing else. If I could hold on to it during the interview, I might be able to swallow my nerves. As much as I loved music and art, applying for a position with a top entertainment company was more than a little daunting. No telling who my competition would be.
“How’d you find this lead, anyway?”
Riley stretched, rubbed out his hair. “I sort of pretended to be you.”
“You what?”
“I sat through one of those job assessment sessions that Career Development offers. And at the end, I answered all the questions the way I thought you would. This Clear Channel position was one of the top fits.” His cheeks turned a guilty shade of pink. “Then I might’ve scoured all the bulletin boards on campus and confiscated the ads for this interview.”
I laughed. “Seriously? No you didn’t. . . . Did you?”
“Hey, I was doing everyone else a favor. Spared them the letdown of going up against the unstoppable Emma Matthews.”
“Ha. Nice try. More like sparing me from more competition than I can handle.”
He shot me a look of reprimand. “More like trying to teach you to believe in yourself. C’mon. A little more rehearsing, and you got this.”
I flicked the blade of grass in the air. Fine. I pulled myself up by my shins and faced him, hands in my lap, spine straight.
“Ahem.” He mirrored my posture. “Miss Matthews, why are you interested in this position?”
My lips scrunched to the side before I could stop them. “Because I got fired from my last internship, and I’m desperate.”
Riley’s forehead pinched. He didn’t still blame himself for that, did he?
“Kidding.” Sort of. I sat tall and composed, cleared my throat. “An internship like this could be an opportunity for me to add hands-on experience to what I’m learning in the classroom. Clear Channel has an excellent reputation in the entertainment industry, and I can’t think of a company I’d rather work for.”
Riley strained to keep a straight face. “You’re very wise for your age.”
I chucked a pinecone at him, but he dodged it without missing a beat.
“And Miss Matthews, what are your greatest strengths?”
My head dropped to my hands. “Ugh. I hate this question.”
“This is an easy one, Em.”
Maybe for him.
Riley peeled my fingers away from my face. “You’re compassionate, intuitive, driven. You view the world with creativity and innovation. See possibilities where other people see doubt. You have . . .” He waved his hand to prompt me.
“The heart of an artist,” I recited.
He laughed. “Now there’s conviction if I’ve ever heard any.” His gaze strayed to his guitar, his fingers tracing the strings. “One day you’ll believe it.”
“I do.” When I’m around you, anyway.
He held his guitar out. “Show me.”
The trees stilled. No breeze. Sweat beaded over my forehead.
“You got out of it last time,” he said, unwavering.
The guitar shook in my hands. Breathe.
He stretched into the same position I’d been in earlier, sassy expression and all. “I’m not making you nervous, am I?”
Nervous? With that sultry grin? How about incapacitated? I hugged the guitar close to my body. A safe barrier. If I could get my fingers to ignore the disjointed drumming in my heart, I might make it through it. I closed my eyes.
A few chords into one of Dad’s favorite songs, all the memories of hearing him play it while growing up released the same peace they always brought. Nothing else existed except the sense of a tangible embrace. Sunlight pooled over me with the ending of the song. I left my hands on the strings a minute longer, not ready to let Dad go.
Riley set his fingers over mine. No words. Just eyes that stirred even deeper emotion.
“My dad wrote that song for me. Played it for as long as I can remember. Even without any lyrics, it’s something you feel, you know? Kind of like your songs.”
“Emma . . .” He blinked, looked away. “You’re amazing. You have no idea how talented you are.”
“It’s just a childhood song.”
Turmoil confiscated his expression. He brushed back my hair, glided his thumb over my temple. “What would change in your life if you could see what I see?”
My pulse jackhammered. I scooted back. Away from every desire propelling me into his arms, away from facing his rejection if I tried.
“You’re the real artist. Speaking of which.” I fished in my pocket for the paper I brought. “I did some research and put together a list of A&R reps.” I pointed to the address column. “Here’s where you mail in your demo CDs. Record labels are gonna love you.”
He stared at the page. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“You’re my best friend. Of course I did. And when you’re on stages across the country, I can say I knew you before you were famous.” I chuckled, but he didn’t move. Didn’t look up.
“I can’t.”
I rested my hand over his arm. “You’re not your dad. You have what it takes to make it. One day you’ll believe it.” I held out his guitar as he’d done a few minutes ago.
He took it slowly but set it on the ground instead. Love poured through his eyes, undoing every remaining thread around my heart. I couldn’t hide how I really felt when he looked at me that way. The tree line blurred in the background, urging me to run before I gave in.
Riley’s hand smoothed over my cheek, beckoning me to look at him. My body trembled under his fingers drifting down my cheekbone. He lifted my chin toward his. My heartbeat thundered with fear. Fear of how much I wanted to show him my love, fear I’d push him away if I did.
The space separating us disintegrated until his lips were close enough for me to hear how the unevenness in his breathing matched my own. An exhale broke past the last barrier and melded into a kiss softer than I’d ever experienced.
His thumb brushed the corner of my lips. “Emma,” he whispered.
My fingers glided across his cheek to the back of his neck and knotted in his hair. I drew him close, drank in every heightened sensation. The rapid flutter in his pulse, the gentleness in his hand on my face, the strength in his hold around my back. His arms carried me in an undertow of desire I wasn’t strong enough to withstand. Grasping his collar, I pressed in with every feeling I’d spent months fighting. Held nothing from him.
He groaned, lifted back. I searched for my voice but had no breath. My hand slid down to his chest. His heartbeat drummed underneath my palm. He rested his forehead to mine.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered against my skin.
“I’m not.” Everything I’d wanted to say that day in the clearing overtook my heart. How I saw him, loved him. “Your dad’s wrong about you. Your passion, the way you feel life. It’s what’s inspired me. What opened my eyes to that grant idea. What’s given me faith to hope for love again. The kind I was scared I’d never find.”
His body tensed, but I couldn’t keep it locked inside any longer.
“I love you, Riley. I’ve been falling for you since our first day back on campus, and I’ve been giving you my heart every day since. I—”
He let me go. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” Clouds absorbed the sunlight and my momentary confidence.
He breathed deeply, looked away. “Don’t give your heart to me.”
A knot swelled in my throat, suffocating me from the inside out. He didn’t want my heart? “What just happened a minute ago? That kiss. I thought . . .”
Still without looking at me, he clenched his coat cuffs. “I’m sorry. That was out of line. I shouldn’t have let it go that far. Shouldn’t have let myself believe . . .”
That I was good enough for him? I couldn’t bear to hear him say it. My heart flinched, then retreated to the place it never should have left. “Don’t apologize.”
“Emma.” His voice matched the pain on his face.
Winds of rejection speared through me, but I wouldn’t let him see me cry. I rose to my feet. Sharp breaths forced their way to my lungs with each backward step I took.
“It’s fine. I’m gonna head home. Try to beat this storm. You should go too. Before your guitar gets wet.” Before I kept rambling and made an even greater fool of myself. I turned and almost sprinted out of the grass.
A whack crashed behind me, as if Riley’d hit something. “Emma, wait.”
But I couldn’t. Couldn’t wait. Couldn’t face him. Once my sneakers hit the sidewalk, I didn’t stop running until the skies opened up, and the cold rain blending into my tears soaked deep enough to numb the pain it couldn’t wash away.
chapter twenty
Shattered
Aerobics couldn’t have ended soon enough. The first one out of the gym, I whirled around the doorframe and peered across the hallway to the wall where Riley usually waited for me.
Why would I expect today to be any different from the last four days? I doubted Riley’d want to be around me after I ruined our friendship and then ran away from him. Literally, ran away. The memory had grown even more humiliating with time.
Dozens of hurried students shoved through the blocked doorway. Book bags and shoulder blades hedged me closer to the vacant wall. I curled into the bricks, elbows clasped tightly across my stomach, and waited.
People swayed past me in a blur of indecipherable conversations until they dwindled one by one, and the bustle of sneakers scuffing the tiles receded behind an echo of how irrational I’d been for waiting at all.
My fist scraped down the brick wall to my side. I promised. Vowed I wouldn’t ever end up here. Like this. Alone in a corridor, waiting for someone who wasn’t coming. Someone I depended on, needed.
With my arms still holding my sides together, I kicked off the wall. The bitter air outside rushed over me. Too encompassing to fight off. Just like love. “I tried,” I whispered. Tried to be what Riley nee
ded. Tried to keep control of my heart. But I couldn’t while I was in his arms. When his lips were softer than his fingers against my cheek.
Every sensation from that moment radiated down my spine with feelings I could relive over and over again. My arms sliding around his neck on their own. My body forming to his. His heartbeat against mine. It could’ve been a dream. Until he apologized.
Was he sorry he kissed me because there was nothing there? Just an empty feeling in place of where passion should’ve been? Had his looks of pain been pity for me, acknowledging how caught up I already was?
I stuffed my hands in my coat pockets. Even if he didn’t love me back, he wouldn’t throw away our friendship, would he? Fear wedged itself deeper in my gut, past frustration and disappointment to that raw place I had almost forgotten existed.
I stopped short on the lamp-lit pathway at the sight of someone approaching. Riley came to a standstill for the briefest moment. Lowering his eyes, he made slow but resolute strides toward me.
Please tell me it wasn’t too late.
“Riley, about other day, I never should have—”
He lifted his hand in the air to stop me. “Please don’t. You haven’t done anything wrong. I shouldn’t have kissed you. It wasn’t fair. To either of us.”
Rejection burrowed into my heart again like shrapnel lodging into previous battle scars. My arms folded over my torso. He started to reach for me but turned away and clenched his fingers in his hair. “I can’t do this anymore.”
The chill in the air stung from every angle. He inhaled deeply, squared his shoulders, and faced me again—his features matching the cold, unyielding stone bench beside us. “I should have walked away a long time ago.”
My throat closed, my voice faltering with my legs. “You’re my best friend, Riley. My life doesn’t make sense without you.”
Shards of the sunset splintered through the tree branches above us and tore across his face. “I’m sorry. For letting you believe that. For giving you false hope.”
Eyes Unveiled Page 15
