The Best Kind of Trouble

by Jones, Courtney B.

  “I wish I knew how to let you go,” he mumbled against me. My fingers stilled against his scalp. I waited for him to say something else, but when he didn’t I let out a slow breath and continued running my fingers through his hair.

  It wasn’t long before his breathing evened out and I felt my eyes grow heavy with sleep.

  I was shocked to find him still there, still wrapped around me in the morning. Although, I noticed, we were not in the same position we’d fallen asleep in. Our heads were on the pillows and he was snuggled up behind me, his strong arms wrapped around me like a thick rope.

  And he was wearing boxers.

  Joy that he hadn’t left surged through me, competing with the bright morning sunshine pouring into my room, giving everything this strange hazy glow. Like a dream.

  But my joy was short lived as I remembered all the cryptic things he’d said and the secret I knew he was hiding. I frowned as I watched him, his face smooth and relaxed in sleep, and I wondered if I’d ever seen him without some tension crinkling his eyes and stretching his skin.

  Was it football? Was it the daunting future? Was it me? Us? Or something else. Some dirty secret he was terrified of sharing. My still sleep ridden mind began to conjure up all kinds of crazy scenarios.

  Maybe he was involved in the mafia. Or a gambler who owed a lot of money. Maybe he had a secret love child or a secret life boasting cars like in Fast and Furious. Or was involved in some illegal underground fighting ring. Was he a criminal? Maybe he was using drugs? Or steroids, my mind whispered.

  I furrowed my brow. I was being crazy. Maybe it was nothing like any of those things. Snippets from the conversation from last night replayed in my mind.

  Is it over?

  “Yes. No. I don’t know. I thought—fuck I don’t know what I thought.”

  Could there be someone else? Was there another girl?

  “But what’s the right thing? Being with someone you don’t love?”

  My heart stopped for a beat and then sped up, pounding in my chest with renewed fervor.

  That was it, right? That had to be it. It had to be. It made total sense. I remembered wondering if he’d lied about being serious with a girl before.

  A girl back home maybe, a high school sweetheart. Maybe they’d reconnected over the summer. Maybe he had been trying to decide between us. Maybe I was the dirty little secret.

  My stomach churned, revolting violently at the thought. I closed my eyes and fresh images bombarded me. A pretty girl, gorgeous, with perfect hair and big eyes and a perfect body wrapped up in Nathan’s embrace.

  I shook my head to clear it. But I couldn’t and my stomach churned again. I wiggled out from his embrace and rushed to the bathroom, sure I was going to be sick with guilt and disgust.

  I slumped against the tiled bathtub and cried. I didn’t even know how long I sat there, but I didn’t get up until all the tears had been pulled from me. I stood on shaky legs and turned on the shower, quickly jumping in and letting the scalding hot water wash away my pain.

  I wish I knew how to let you go.

  Well, if he couldn’t. I would. This was ridiculous. I didn’t deserve to be treated this way. I knew I was stronger than this. He was just a guy, after all, not worth destroying myself over.

  Before I got out of the shower, I felt my heart harden and my resolve strengthen. This time, this morning, Nate would be the one to wake up alone. And I’d be the one gone.

  Chapter 15

  For the last six weeks of the semester, I managed to avoid Nate. I ignored every text and phone call. Although, to be honest, there hadn’t been many. It was if I’d done him a favor. Besides going to class and hanging out with Katie and Drew and occasionally studying with Autumn, I was practically a hermit, locked up in my room, listening to music, and playing my guitar.

  And writing. The lyrics and poems just seemed to be flooding out of me. My room was cluttered with crumpled up pieces of notebook paper and my journal was full of scrawled words and phrases. My bleeding heart smeared across crisp white pages.

  The Tuesday after finals, I decided to try out open mic night at Mike’s. It was like all this pain and my words were just bursting to get out. And even though I’d wrote them all down, it wasn’t enough.

  Katie and Autumn both came with me.

  “This is so exciting,” Katie squealed when we walked in. I grinned at her. A real genuine grin that stretched across my face and showed my teeth. I was excited too. There was a rush of anticipation flowing through me that I couldn’t deny any longer.

  When it was my turn, I sat on a stool in the middle of the stage with my guitar strapped across me. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath as I tried to release my nerves. I began strumming, a slow, bittersweet melody. And then I sang.

  “It feels fresh today,” I sang softly. “Ripped open and bleeding/the pain and the tears crash into me/Carving into me like shrapnel/It feels new/Ragged and raw/Shredded, tattered remains/Sliced through with a knife.”

  I paused, closing my eyes again, letting my lashes brush my cheeks as I rasped into the mic, “Forever damaged.”

  When I finished the song, applause boomed throughout the bar. A rush of adrenaline spiked in my blood and I grinned. Man, that was awesome. Who needed therapy?

  “Girl,” Autumn said when I got back to my seat. “That was fucking awesome. I didn’t know you could do that!”

  “You better not forget about me when you’re famous!” Katie joked.

  I laughed and took a sip of my drink. “Never.”

  ~000~

  The following Tuesday, Katie brought Drew and Autumn and two other girls tagged along. It was like having my own cheering section right in front of the stage.

  The lights dimmed and I sung, gently working my fingers over my guitar.

  When the song ended and my voice faded away, I swear I felt my soul sigh. It was like a huge release. And after the last couple of months I really needed that. My friends clapped and cheered and I grinned. When the crowd—slightly bigger than last week—started chanting for another song, I obliged, strumming a faster tune and letting a little rasp come out in my voice.

  “It’s a quiet fire/Silent and invisible/Except for the embers that smolder in your gaze.”

  I thought about Nate. Kissing him, loving him. He was funny and playful, but mysterious and intense too. For the first time in weeks, I thought about him, and smiled. And sang.

  “The subtle curve of your lips/that ignites a fire in my gut/Spreading an inferno of heat.”

  I added a little heat, a sultry little something, making my voice husky and low.

  “Your touch/Simple and sweet/Dances along my skin/Creating sparks of electricity.”

  I smirked into the audience and winked.

  “Fanning our flame.”

  For the first time in my life, I felt like this was what I was born to do. I could feel it. Alive and waiting to explode in my gut. Destiny.

  “Ashley,” Drew said when I finally came off the stage. “You killed it!”

  I grinned. I knew I should be modest or maybe blush and say something self-depreciating. But I couldn’t. I didn’t want to. Being on stage, sharing my heart, my words, felt so good. So real.

  “Hey, wanna come do the show with us on New Year’s Eve? We’re playing at Zack’s? Drew asked.

  I frowned. “But…you have a singer.”

  Drew shrugged. “Yeah, but you could join in. Do a couple of sets, maybe we could rehearse a couple of your songs to do.”

  I smiled, suddenly excited. “Sure. Okay, that sounds like fun.”

  ~000~

  On New Year’s Eve, I was standing backstage, shaking like a leaf. Katie and Autumn had dressed me in a short, strapless little silver dress. My hair was long and wavy and I pulled it over one shoulder as I chewed on my lower lip.

  I took a deep breath and tried to listen to Drew’s band—Dash. They were really good, sort of country, sort of rock.

  Their singer—Adam—introduced
me and I came out waving. He stepped back, giving me the mic and turned to the band as he started strumming his guitar.

  After two songs, I was breathless with the rush and excitement of being on stage. It was like nothing else. My whole body was practically vibrating, my skin dotted with goose bumps.

  The lights on the stage faded and Drew and Adam started the intro for my last song.

  My eyes instantly locked on deep blue ones—so strikingly familiar, I almost gasped.

  Nathan. He was there. And his gaze was locked on me—intense and terrifying. I swallowed hard and sang, my eyes never leaving his.

  “The anger was red and explosive/It churned in my gut/Was liquid fire in my veins/Twisting my grief like gnarled snakes/A bullet that ripped me open/Leaving me with a bleeding heart.”

  The whole room suddenly felt empty as I continued to stare at him and sing. It didn’t matter that the song wasn’t about him. Nothing in that moment mattered. Except me showing him my bleeding and bruised heart.

  “An open wound, torn and festering/Full of regret and bitterness/And hate/But when it burned away/Like smoke and ash/A hollowed burned out shell/It left just the sadness in its wake.”

  My voice wrapped around the lyrics and I belted them out. When the song finished the crowd roared in excitement. I jumped off the stage and pushed through the crowd just as Adam began to count down to midnight.

  “Ten, nine, eight…”

  I got to the spot where I’d see Nate and looked around wildly. Searching, scanning the faces of every person near me.

  “Seven, six, five…”

  My heart leapt in my throat when I spotted his dark head disappearing though the front door. I pushed my way through the crowd, a need to see him, talk to him, that I didn’t understand or question fueled me.

  “Four, three, two…”

  I pushed out the front door, letting the cold air hit my exposed skin. I shivered. Nate was already gone.

  From inside I heard, “One! Happy New Year!”

  Alone and cold, I stood there realizing that it was really over. This time I really had to let him go.

  ~000~

  By February, I was regularly performing every Tuesday night at Mike’s and had done a couple more gigs with Dash. On Valentine’s Day everything changed.

  I was playing at Mike’s again. After I got off stage and downed a bottle of water, a man in a nice black suit approached me.

  “Howdy,” he said, smiling. I smiled back. “You’ve really got something special,” he stuck out his hand. “I’m Joseph French. With Southern Roots Records.”

  My eyes widened and I numbly shook his hand. He smiled at me again and handed me a card.

  “Let’s set up a meeting,” he suggested. “I’d like to help you get your career started.”

  My brow furrowed. “My career?”

  His gray eyes twinkled with amusement. “Your career, darlin’. You could be the next big thing.”

  With stars and dreams in my eyes, I wondered back to my friends and sat down, still staring at the card.

  “Oh my god, Ash,” Katie exclaimed. “You’re going to be famous!”

  I frowned and my eyebrows knitted together. Famous? A career as a musician? I’d never really considered that. The last couple months had just been about me doing something for myself.

  Singing on stage, writing music, had become my lifeline. What got me through each day. It took all the ugly stuff inside me and released it, giving me a chance to bring in the good.

  On Friday, I met with Mr. French and several other men in suits. After the most surreal meeting of my life, I took my copies of the contract and paperwork and drove an hour and half straight to my mother’s.

  “Ashley!” she shouted when I came through the front door. She threw her arms around me and hugged me tight. “What are you doing here?”

  “Mom, you know how I told you I’ve been singing and stuff,” I began. She nodded, ushering me to sit down in the kitchen. She bustled around in the kitchen, making me a glass of ice tea as I continued. “Well, a label wants to sign me.”

  She sat the glass down in front of me and I took a long drink, savoring the perfect mix of tea and sugar. Her eyes were bright and round. “What?”

  I pulled the contract out of my purse and handed it to her. “I haven’t signed anything yet. I’d have to quit school, at least for now. They want me to go on tour and open up for another band, starting in like two weeks.”

  My mom flipped through the stack of paper, scanning the words with a worried brow.

  “Mom,” I said after a few minutes of silence and several more gulps of tea. “I don’t know what to do. This is all happening so fast. I—”

  I cut off, unsure of what else to say. It did feel so sudden and a little crazy and reckless. But not in a bad way. There was a thrilling undercurrent of excitement coursing just below my skin that I was terrified to acknowledge.

  My mom looked up at me with clear green eyes and smiled. “Wow, Ashley. This is a big decision for you.”

  I nodded, swallowing a lump in my throat.

  She reached across the table and covered my hand with hers. “Ashley, the last few months have been tough, I know. And you’ve been so strong. I’m so proud of you. I wish I could tell you the right decision, but I can’t. You have to figure that out for yourself.”

  I nodded in understanding and pressed my lips into a thin line before speaking. “But what about school? You won’t be mad?”

  She pursed her lips for a moment. “No. I won’t lie, I don’t like the idea of you dropping out, especially when you only have a year and half left, but maybe you need to do this first. College will be there next year, in two years, even in ten,” she moved her hand to my cheek. “You do what your heart is telling you, baby girl. I’ll support you no matter what.”

  My eyes watered and I threw my arms around her neck, suddenly grateful I still had her.

  That night, in my room, I sat on my bed and stared at the stark white pages of the contract. Paper that with my signature had the power to change my life. To change everything.

  I took a deep breath, and scrawled my name across the bottom.

  Chapter 16

  Why'd you come in here lookin' like that?

  ~Dolly Parton

  My breath caught in my throat the second I watched Mr. Sexy himself walk out onto the stage.

  Holy hell.

  I was sitting in a large open room, a makeshift stage on one wall, and several executives from the label on either side of me. The man on the stage was auditioning to be my guitar player. He swung the leather guitar strap around his head and began fingering the cords with long nimble fingers.

  I watched him, rapt with attention.

  His head was shaved and he had a light dusting of scruff along his strong angular jaw. His eyes were dark, his lips full, and his arms covered in swirling black tattoos. He was fit, but not in the broad shouldered, big muscular way Nathan was.

  A black t-shirt stretched across his torso, as I watched his hands fly across the keys. A leather cuff wrapped around his left wrist, and even his knuckles had ink.

  I felt heat rise in my cheeks and I squirmed at the sudden wetness between my thighs. He ran his tongue along his lower lip and I imagined all the ways he could lick me. Shivering I bit my lip, as hot sweaty fantasies rolled through my mind.

  When he finished playing, his eyes opened and stuck on mine. A subtle knowing smirk curved the corner of his lips, and I was almost relieved that no dimple sunk into his cheek. That would have just been too much.

  “Thank you, Caleb,” the man next to me said. Caleb’s dark eyes turned away from mine and he nodded at the gentlemen in the room before exiting through a side door.

  All the breath rushed from lungs when the door closed behind him. What the hell was that about?

  Months alone, probably. Since Nathan and I broke up in November, I hadn’t even looked at another man. Truth was, some part of me knew a random hook-up would help, however
briefly. It had the potential to make me feel wanted and beautiful and would give me the semblance of intimacy that I was missing.

  But, then, I knew it would feel empty and shallow later. Or at least, I thought it would. I knew it couldn’t be what I shared with Nate. I might never be able to give my heart to someone like that again.

  I thought about going on tour and getting sweaty with Caleb. It would feel so good. And be so fun. I just had to keep my feelings in check this time.