Love Struck

by Amber Garza

  “Hey, man,” I say with a subtle bob of my head.

  “Hi, Pierce.” Lola is still smiling.

  “So, what are you two all excited about?” Pierce asks, looking from Lola to me curiously.

  I raise a brow at Lola, letting her choose if she wants to share in front of him. “I told Pierce about what happened,” I add, knowing it will play a part in her decision.

  She nods, the smile remaining. “I just stood up to my parents for probably the first time ever!” Lola still hasn’t sat down, and nervous energy is radiating from her. “They took me to breakfast this morning and I told my dad that I know what he did to you.” She points to me. “And he had this smug expression like he didn’t really think you told me everything. But then I was like, ‘I know all about his dad, and I don’t care. It doesn’t change who is now.’ Dad was totally shocked. He tried to tell me I was making a big mistake, but I just told him that I’m in love with you and that no matter what he says I’m going to be with you.”

  “And?” I ask. “How did they take it?” When I glance over at Pierce his eyebrows are raised, and I can tell he’s wondering as well.

  “Well.” She bites her lip, and fidgets with the bottom of her shirt. “Not so great.”

  “What happened?” I step closer.

  “They sort of cut me off.”

  “What?” I reel back.

  “Oh, shit,” Pierce says. “You gave up their money for this guy? Seriously?” He looks at Lola incredulously.

  “Shut up, man.” I roll my eyes, and then look at Lola. “But really, you shouldn’t have done that, beautiful. I don’t want you to have to do that for me. You should call them and apologize. We can just see each other behind their backs. It’s not like they live here.”

  Lola waves away my words. “No. I don’t want to live like this anymore, Ryker. My parents have controlled every aspect of my life for years. Do you know why I chose to move to Seattle, Ryker?”

  I shake my head. Pierce bangs around in the kitchen. Clearly he’s bored with this conversation already. Not that I’m surprised. Pierce doesn’t even have a long attention span when it’s something that does interest him.

  “It was because this was one of the few places my parents weren’t pushing me to go. I moved here to be rebellious. I chose a college they didn’t want me to go to and moved to a town I knew nothing about just to show them that I could make my own choice; one that didn’t include their input. I want to live my own life. I want to make my own decisions, whether good or bad.”

  “So, do you consider me a good or bad decision?”

  “A bad one of course,” she jokes, a light laugh under her words.

  “Hey.” I throw up my arms in exasperation. “You’re the bad influence here. You’re the one who turned me into an addict.”

  Lola throws back her head in laughter. Her hair swishes around her face, and I realize that she really does look happy; lighter somehow. It’s funny, actually. I mean, I always thought that Lola needed financial security to be happy. However, she just gave all that up and yet she appears to not have a care in the world. Hope stirs in my heart. Perhaps there is a real future for us.

  Holding out her arms, Lola gives me a devilish look. Rolling one of her index fingers she motions me forward. “Well, come and get your fix then.”

  I walk slowly toward her as if in a trance. When I reach her, she throws her arms around my neck, drawing me to her. I inhale her coconut scent, and savor the way her soft lips feel on mine.

  “Dude, get a room,” Pierce calls out. His footsteps retreat down the hall a minute later.

  Holding Lola tightly in my arms, I look down at her. “You don’t seem worried.”

  “I’m not.” She grins. “My parents are just doing this because they think it will force me to go back to California.”

  My stomach constricts. I hadn’t even thought about that. Is it possible that she will have to leave Seattle now?

  Lola touches my face. “But I’m not leaving, don’t worry.”

  She knows me so well.

  “When they see that they can’t manipulate me like that they’ll come around,” she says assuredly. From the corner of my eye I see Pierce exit his room and race across the hall to the bathroom. A second later the shower turns on.

  Her words alarm me a little. “And what if they don’t?”

  Lola cocks her head to the side. “I’m not worried. In case you didn’t know this, I’m the manager of the hottest band in Seattle.”

  I chuckle. “Ah, yes, I had heard that.”

  “And I have the most supportive boyfriend in the world.” Lola leans into me, her hands caressing my chest through my shirt. “I’ll be fine.”

  “I still can’t believe you got us a gig at the hottest club in LA. The guys are gonna freak.” I pull my car out of the parking lot of the pub Lola and I just ate in.

  “I don’t know why you’re so surprised. You’re the one who hired me.” Lola holds her chin high, a teasing lilt in her voice.

  “That’s true.” Reaching over, I place my hand on her thigh. My thumb rubs over the bare pale skin that peeks out from her skirt. “I knew you’d be great at it.”

  “Thank you, Ryker.” Lola glances over at me. Light from the streetlamps cast over her face. “Thank you for believing in me.”

  “Of course.”

  Lola rubs her stomach. “I haven’t gotten the urge in over a month. That’s all thanks to you.”

  “Well, I think your therapy has something to do with it as well.”

  “Yeah.” She shrugs. “You’re right. But never underestimate how much you’ve helped me, Ryker. You’ve been a godsend.”

  My face warms. Unsure of what to say, I just wordlessly squeeze her leg.

  “Hey, pull over,” Lola calls out unexpectedly.

  Obediently, I swerve the wheel and find an empty space along the curb to park my car.

  “C’mon.” She opens the car door and steps out onto the curb. Cold air smacks me in the face as I step out to follow her. Her skirt billows around her bare legs, and her hair swirls her face reminding me of a shampoo commercial. She grabs my hand and starts walking swiftly down the street, her high heels clicking with each step.

  “Where are we going?” I scour the street, trying to figure out why she stopped me here.

  “You’ll see.” She winks and keeps walking, tugging on my arm.

  When she stops, I glance up at the restaurant where we ate dinner with her parents. My stomach drops. “What are we doing here?”

  “We’re going inside.” There is a mischievous look in her eyes.

  “But we just ate dinner.”

  “We’re not eating here,” she says, stupefied. Without waiting for me to answer, she grabs my hand and pulls me forward. When we enter the stuffy restaurant the hostess looks up at us, her eyebrows raised. She wears a fancy black dress, her hair pulled back in a severe bun. A few men in suits push past us. Memories of last time we were here surface, making it difficult to breath. I swallow hard.

  Lola doesn’t say a word to the hostess, just keeps pushing her way inside. What is going on? The hostess gives us a puzzled look as we pass.

  My heart stutters when I realize that Lola is walking straight to the table we dined at last time. We walk past a waiter carrying a tray of food and a busboy with a water pitcher in his hand. The room is dimly lit and candles flicker around us like a million little ghosts haunting the place.

  A family sits at the table. The Mom and Dad are sipping wine while the teenage children are stuffing their faces with bread and butter. Lola stands next to the table, grabs me until I’m facing her and then crushes her lips to mine. I’m stunned, and at first my whole body stiffens. Then her tongue gently licks over my lips, forcing them open. It feels so good that for a minute I forget where I am, and I respond to her with vigor. My arms come up around her waist, skimming her middle.

  “Hey, what is going on here?” A male voice cuts in, and the moment is broken.


  Lola giggles against my mouth, and we separate.

  “That’s our cue,” she says, still laughing. Grabbing my hand, she starts running for the door. Together we hurry out of the restaurant, both laughing. We don’t stop until we get to the car. Lola leans her back on the car, smothering her giggles with her hand.

  Once I catch my breath, I lean over her. “What was that about?”

  Lola forces her laughter down, her eyes still crinkling at the corners. Her hands fall to her sides. “I was just erasing our bad memory. Now when we pass that restaurant we won’t think about it being the place where we had a terrible dinner with my parents. We will remember it as the place we got kicked out of for making out in the middle of it.”

  “But we’ll probably never be able to go back.”

  “Did you want to?”

  Point taken. “No, I guess not.” I kiss her cheek. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

  “You wouldn’t be just trying to butter me up so you can have a fix, would you?”

  “I thought I made it clear that I will never be satisfied with a fix, beautiful.” Our gazes collide. “I want you. Forever.”

  Epilogue

  Lola

  Five years later

  “Lola, you look beautiful,” Ryker says, coming up behind me.

  I stare at my reflection, at my designer gown and simple jewelry. My hair spills over my shoulders in large black curls, and my makeup is immaculate. “I can’t believe your band has been nominated for a music award.”

  “It’s all thanks to our amazing manager.”

  I scoff at his words, whirling around to face him. He’s wearing a fitted tux, his hair is slightly tousled, and I marvel at how he still has the ability to make my heart flip in my chest. “Oh, I think it’s more because of the sexy electric guitarist.” I drag a lacquered nail up his chest.

  Ryker smiles. “Yes, because that’s what everyone talks about – the electric guitarist, not the lead singers who have been dubbed the hottest duo of our time.”

  I laugh. It’s true that Beckett and Star have sure captured the hearts of America. And really I’m not surprised. There is something magical about those two when they sing together. “I still stick by my statement. In my opinion you are the sexiest guy in the history of rock n’ roll.”

  “Then again, I may be the only guy you know of in the history of rock n’ roll,” Ryker teases.

  “Hey, that’s not fair. I listen to more music now than I did when we met.”

  “Just barely,” Ryker says with a grin. “But that’s okay. I love you anyway.”

  “You better. I’m your wife. I’m not going anywhere.” I’m about to kiss him when the pitter patter of little feet arouse my attention. I spin around toward the doorway, just as Rayna runs inside. Her short black hair curls softly around her chubby cheeks, and her large dark eyes are filled with innocence, despite the red lipstick that frames her lips. In her fat fist, she holds the offending tube of lipstick. It’s smearing all down the side of the tube and running down her hand.

  “Hey, silly girl.” I chuckle, amused. “Did you get into mommy’s lipstick again?”

  Ryker scoops her up. “Oh, no you don’t. You’re too young to be wearing your mommy’s lipstick.” A fit of giggles burst out of Rayna’s mouth.

  “I’ll get some toilet paper or something to wipe it off.” I cringe, glancing over at Ryker to make sure the lipstick hasn’t already stain his tux. Luckily it hasn’t.

  “It’s okay. I got it.” Dana sweeps in, a wet rag in her hand.

  Ryker hands Rayna over to his mom. While Dana wipes off all traces of lipstick from my daughter, Ryker turns to me. “I’m not okay with her wearing your lipstick. She’s only two.”

  I give him a knowing smile. “I have a feeling you’re never going to be okay with Rayna wearing lipstick.”

  “Definitely not red lipstick. I don’t want some guy to get the wrong idea about my little girl.”

  “Oh, really? What if the guy is like you?” I ask.

  “Even worse.” Ryker glances over at his daughter with so much love in his eyes it almost breaks me open.

  I rest a hand on his shoulder. “You’re such a great dad, you know that?”

  “Thanks,” he says softly. I know what he’s thinking about as he watches his mom care for her granddaughter. When we first decided to get pregnant he worried so much about continuing on with the cycle his dad started. Not that he worried about joining a gang and committing murder, but he worried about not being there for his children; of not being the father they deserve. I totally understood, because I had my own concerns. Like would I be distant the way my parents were? Would I put undue expectations on them? And worse yet, would the stress of being a mom bring up all my old problems?

  But everything’s been just perfect, and I find myself worrying less and less with each passing day.

  “Ready?” Ryker turns to me. “Beckett and Star are already there.”

  I nod, rubbing my palms together. “I’m so excited. I’ve never been to an awards show before.”

  “It won’t be our last, beautiful.” Ryker takes my hand.

  As we walk out of the room, I stop to kiss Rayna. Her thick hair sticks to my lips. “Good night, sweetie. Be good for Grandma.”

  Rayna throws her arms around my neck. She smells like coconut, and I drink in the familiar scent. “I will, mama.”

  I give Dana a quick kiss too. “Thanks for watching her.”

  “Of course. I love spending time with my granddaughter.” Dana juts out her hand and runs it over my stomach. “Just like I can’t wait to spend time with this little guy.”

  As if on cue, my son kicks out at my belly. I jolt.

  “He’s gonna come out playing drums, huh?” Ryker says.

  I raise an eyebrow. “Or maybe soccer.”

  Ryker touches my stomach gently, splaying his fingers over it. As if in response there is another kick. “I’ll be happy with whatever he chooses,” Ryker says, and I know this is true.

  “Good night, my princess.” Ryker kisses his daughter and she holds on like she’ll never let go. She is definitely a daddy’s girl. My heart swells.

  As Ryker and I head down the stairs, I think about how my life turned out nothing like I’d planned. It turned out so much better.

  Turn the page to read the first Chapter of STAR STRUCK…

  1

  Star

  I wipe my clammy hands down my jeans. My fingernail snags on a loose thread, and I yank it out. Then bite down on the jagged edge. Lola raises an eyebrow at me, and I quickly retract my fingers from my mouth. Nail biting is a habit I’m trying hard to break now that I’m in college. I glance down at my stubby nails and cringe. I guess I’m not doing a great job.

  The girl on stage strums her guitar loudly and belts out a note in a way that makes me wince. Lola flashes me an amused look, but it only succeeds in turning my stomach. I lean forward, resting my elbows on the slick pub table we’re seated at. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

  “Oh, come on. You are a million times better than this girl.”

  “That’s not saying much.”

  “Trust me, you’re gonna blow this place out of the water.” Lola plucks the cup of soda off the table and takes a dainty sip. Everything about Lola is dainty from her French manicured nails, to her coifed black hair and her ruby red lipstick. She always reminds me of an actress from the 1950’s. I rub my lightly glossed lips together, tuck a strand of my straight brown hair behind my ears, and glance down at my short nails that haven't been painted in years. Maybe I should finally let Lola give me that makeover she's always threatening me with. “You are so much more talented than you give yourself credit for.”

  That’s the reason Lola has been my best friend for so long. She believes in me in a way that no one else does. And she’s always encouraging me to put myself out there. Even though it infuriates me sometimes, the truth is, that I’m grateful to her. However, at this moment I’m
terrified. We’ve only been on campus for a week, and she’s already talked me into performing at open mic night at a popular coffee shop. The place is jam packed with people, and every time a new person enters the room my insides are attacked by another swarm of angry butterflies.

  “Ooh, you’re up next,” Lola squeals, her eyes dancing with excitement.

  Goodie. My palms fill with more moisture and I feel dangerously close to puking. When my name is called, I throw Lola a pained look and force my legs to carry me up on the makeshift stage. Peering down at my long shirt, skinny jeans and ballet flats, I’m grateful that I’m not wearing heels. Since I’m only five foot four, I tend to wear high heels a lot. But judging by how violently my legs are shaking, I’m pretty sure if I weren’t wearing my flats I’d be face down on the ground by now. Thankfully I make it to the stage and I plop down at the keyboard. With shaky fingers I pull the microphone to my lips and rest my fingers on the keys. I take a deep breath to steady my nerves, and I don’t dare look out at the room. If I just pretend I’m alone in my room singing I should be okay. I love to sing and play. It’s probably my favorite thing in the world to do, but performing is something I’m still not comfortable with.

  I decide to play a song I wrote a couple of years ago for my ex-boyfriend Spencer. It’s one I’ve sang so many times I could probably sing it in my sleep, so I figure it’s a safe bet. Even if I completely blank out I won’t forget the lyrics or anything. When I press down on the first key, I close my eyes and allow my mind to drown out the room. I focus on the music, letting the lyrics and notes whisk me away. As I splash around in the waves of the song, eventually I go under, drowning in it.

  I want you close

  I want you here

  I feel complete

  When you are near

  After playing the last chord, I finally come out of my trance and open my eyes, taking in the room. The first person I notice is Lola, and she’s beaming up at me. The room has quieted down and all eyes seem to be on me. This causes my heart to start beating frantically in my chest. I stand up, and a smattering of applause ensues.