by Mia Miller
A blonde, who I assumed was the plate thrower, flew out of the kitchen. When Micky tried to stop her, she threw her hand up to stop him.
“Not now, Uncle Micky!” she exploded before Micky had even opened his mouth and stormed out after the guy.
“God damn it!” Micky slammed an open palm against the doorway and then shook his head.
It was opening time very soon and we had already decided we would all hang around Infatuation until the time came for the band’s first paid performance. All bar Kayla, who claimed to have to rehearse for a recital to get out of it.
“God, tell me one of you knows how to make meatballs happen,” Micky grumbled. “I have a giant heap of ground beef I don’t know what to do with. I swear, that girl needs to get her game straight. He’s the third cook who either quit or I had to fire because of her.”
“I can help,” Oswald stood, which took us all by surprise.
“You know your way around a kitchen?” Micky asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I mean, I don’t have references on me, but I was an apprentice for a cook for almost a year back home.”
Micky measured him up and down and grunted, lifting his chin as if indicating the kitchen door. Oswald followed without so much as a backward glance, and we all sat there in stunned silence.
“Maybe the job will work out and he’ll finally get out of that hostel that smells like feet and old balls.” It was the only think I could think of to say.
Corbin groaned, loudly. “Why does my little sister always talk about balls?”
I just grinned and settled back against Oscar’s side, letting my brother know I did it just to annoy him would take all the fun out of it.
From my other side, Dalton leaned in and whispered.
“I still don’t see it, you know, except there’s one of them who’s throwing you puppy-eyed looks more often than the other, so I gather that’s your Blazing Bangable. But maybe in time I’ll tell them apart.”
***
Much later, Dalton and I still sitting at a small table with a good view of the stage when Woke queued up for their last set.
“Everyone, this next song is called “Counterpart,” and it is dedicated to a special person in the crowd today,” Oscar said loudly into his microphone, his eyes landing squarely on his brother, who was leaning on his shoulder against the wall in the far corner.
The audience gave him the silence it seemed he needed while all but one of the lights on stage dimmed.
I feel like throwing you off the mountaintop
And then rushing down to catch you at the bottom;
But not a million fights could make me hate you,
I still love every single thing I hate about you.
Oscar had let me read the lyrics of his song to his brother, but I hadn’t heard the song actually played. It had quite a kick.
When he hit the chorus, the rest of the band joined in.
We are carbon copy in looks, but not in feelings,
Let’s put the past behind us and get on together;
a counterpart like no other but not same in feelings.
Maybe you’re that part of me I will never get over.
The song was a tempest, a confession of guilt and longing, of pain and unease. It was Oscar’s plea for redemption, and it ended as such. On the last verse, the thunder of all other instruments stopped, and Oscar’s alone finished his story.
I happen to somehow hate you but still love you.
I think I’m better without you but I still miss you.
I want you out of my life but never want to let go.
All I know is you’re still the flesh of my bone.
I felt my chest constrict in a funny way, and I was pretty sure it wasn’t just the bass reverberating. I could see Oswald’s throat working and his eyes never once left his brother. A small smile formed at the corners of my lips. These two had such a long way ahead of them. But as long as they were willing to do it together, everything would be fine.
Epilogue
One Year Later
Oscar placed a wet kiss on the nape of my neck. I had been playing around with a sketch for a while. As always when an idea hit, I felt no hunger, no sleep, no thirst. Except for a different kind of longing, that happened whenever Oscar’s hands circled my waist and I sighed, leaning my weight into his warm body.
“You’re so tempting,” I whispered, as his hands roamed around my curves and he flashed his teeth. “You’re naughty,” I told him louder, as his touch got insistent and my body forgot how to move on its own. “You’ll get paint over everything,” I managed to say before his mouth consumed mine and I forgot to look where I was throwing my brush, throwing my body at his. His tongue ran the seam of my lips, finding me as I tangled my tongue with his. I was his to devour.
I didn’t remember when we landed on the bed. It was all consuming. It was delicious. It was torturous.
“Mine.” His gruff voice vibrated on my neck, making the skin around the area explode into flowers of warm desire.
“Yes,” I acquiesced, holding my breath. His body and mine were keyed to each other. I could feel his wanton desire like it was my own. I thrust against his erection, running my hands restlessly over the expanse of his chiseled chest. He pinned my hands above our heads, pushing us deep into the blankets. I bent my knees and braced off the bed and into him, and he grunted in approval. I wanted to touch him, undress him, run my hands all over him, but his hold didn’t relinquish.
“Patience.” He teased, and all I could do was grind against his hardness. I squeezed my thighs around him, and his response was a moan deep from his chest. I did it again and he squeezed my wrists, crushing me in a kiss that was meant to consume.
We got lost in each other for hours, and it was only after we were both sated that he turned his attention back to my painting.
“What’s this?” he asked, and I looked up into his eyes and saw a sparkle of interest different from any he’d had for my other canvases.
“I remembered something from back when I was reading up on Japanese and Chinese cultures.”
“Are those Koi fish?” he asked.
“Yes; representing the yin-yang through paired up Koi fish circling each other is pretty common, but I am giving them a small spin. You see, all legends say the Koi became a dragon at the end of its journey. That is why these seemingly common fish symbolize a lot of power; and family bonds. I think I read somewhere that during various kinds of family reunions, depending on who and what is celebrated, the families would wear different colors that would be related to the one they were declaring their love to.”
His long fingers followed the lines of my drawing in an admiring, swift motion, not really touching the canvas.
“I could tattoo this symbol somewhere on me,” he mused.
“After I’m completely done coloring the dragon heads. This one will be black, which is the symbol for overcoming obstacles. This one is going to be red, for family unity and strength and blue – for beginning a clean slate. I think you both need that, no?” I paused, searching his eyes.
He nodded, placing a chaste kiss on my shoulder.
“And they will circle around each other—as opposite forces always do—and give each other strength by co-existing,” I said.
“Okay, Captain Obvious.” He gave me a crooked grin, letting me know he really did love what I was creating for them.
“I have something else too.”
I showed him an all-black symbol I’d texted with Oswald about.
I’d finally made my own version of a triple tomoe—three small tadpoles that chased each other throughout eternity, their circling of each other as necessary as the wheels in an old mechanical clock. One without the other would stop.
“Okay, we’re definitely getting these,” Oscar mused. “All three of us.”
It definitely looked like tattoo talk was something of a turn on for my boyfriend, as he playfully nudged me back into the sheets.
“All three
of us?” I squeaked back. “I’m afraid of needles.”
“Do it and I’ll tattoo a chameleon on top of my heart?”
I held my breath. “Oh really? Who’s going to draw that for you?”
His response was a small bite of my lip. The magatama bead that was sister to my own hanging around his neck tickled my skin. “Who do you think?”
I looked up into the gorgeous golden eyes of the boy of my dreams.
“Okay. Let’s do it!”
Dear Reader,
Thank you so much for reading this story!
Please consider leaving a review and sending me a note about it at [email protected]
Have you read my standalone New Adult Romance – “Love on Hold”?
http://bit.ly/loveonholdAMAZON
Can you fall in love with a voice?
Joel and I have the perfect relationship. We can talk about anything. We spend hours on the phone, texting and doing all things a couple does. Except, we haven't even met.
It all began with an accidental phone call in the middle of the night. Now, my mystery caller has turned into my secret love and still, we've never exchanged photos...until now.
About the Author
Mia Miller started writing as a getaway from a taxing day job in a multinational corp. A lover of all things romance since forever, Mia tries to find a little bit of a love story even in zombie movies. She likes her book boyfriends Alpha and her novels naughty.
Nowadays Mia can be constantly found typing away, with her Dogo Argentino at her feet. Mia brings her readers books in the New Adult and Contemporary Romance genre.
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Coming Soon:
“Truly His”, Book Two in the “Truly Us” series: Kayla and Enzo’s story
