by Lindsey Iler
Kacey stops in front of me. “You took Kennedy’s.” Her hands come down on her hips in protest. She looks like a child, which contradicts her bra and panty striptease.
I sit on the end of my bed and rest my head in my hands. “That’s different,” I whisper, shaking my head.
I remember the day Kennedy gave me her virginity. It wasn’t just sex. With what we had, that wouldn’t be possible. She has a part of me that runs much deeper than a physical relationship.
Kacey sits down beside me. “You mean she’s different.” Her hand finds mine.
I accept the comfort I feel from the contact.
“Do you want to know the truth?” I question. “I love her. I loved her when I took her virginity, and I refuse to let you swindle yours away on someone like me. It should be with someone who loves you and...” I turn to face her. Her eyes watch our clasped hands.
Her grasp loosens and our hands fall to our sides. “You don’t love me,” she finishes my thought.
“No, I don’t love you. I have something far more valuable for you,” I answer with a sidelong glance.
“And what’s that?” Kacey scoffs.
“I respect you,” I say. “Now put some clothes on.” I stand, throwing the gym shorts and t-shirt at her. I slip out of my clothes to pull on a pair of gym shorts and crawl into bed.
The shorts are so loose, she has to hold them up, and the shirt graces the bottom of her thighs. She flicks the light switch and joins me as I turn on the T.V. I wrap my arm around her to pull her close. We scan through the channels, settling on an HBO movie.
“Thank you for not taking me up on my offer,” she whispers.
“It’s worth more than me.” I smile into the darkness.
For once, I feel I’m the guy Kennedy always believed is in me. I’m making choices circled around those I care for instead of myself.
“She’s lucky,” Kacey murmurs.
“Who?” I question, my head in a sleepy fog.
“Kennedy. To know someone loves her enough to put his own feelings aside to ensure her happiness. No one can call you selfish, Graham.” Kacey’s voice is full of awe.
“Just go to sleep, Kace. I can’t think about her anymore,” I admit.
The lump in my throat is obvious. She drops the subject without another word.
I wake up the next morning to an empty bed, shaking my head at the previous night’s events.
“Get your shit together, Black,” I grumble under my breath.
“Are you talking to yourself?” Kacey’s voice breaks through my morning fog.
I jump in surprise and narrow my eyes. “I thought you left.”
Kacey shrugs. “I think we both could use a little fun today. Want to teach me how to hit?” She grabs one of the wooden bats leaning against my dresser and playfully swirls it around.
The laughter escaping from my lips is loud and insulting to Kacey. “You want to go to the batting cages?”
Kacey’s hands rest on her slim hips. “Do you?”
“Of course,” I answer, jumping from the bed.
The batting cage is a place to clear my mind. I need that kind of therapy right now.
“I need to warn you, I’ve never swung a bat in my life,” Kacey confesses with a satisfied grin.
“Jesus Christ! This should be interesting.” Sarcasm drips from every word.
“If we’re going to be friends then you need to be nicer,” Kacey demands.
“Friends, then?” I ask.
“We can be friends, but I’m not sleeping with you.” Kacey laughs.
I take huge steps and throw her over my shoulder.
She slaps my lower back. “Put me down, jackass.”
“Let’s go get you some different clothes. I don’t think you can get away with hitting the cages wearing that.” I throw her down on the bed and her body bounces a few times.
“What’s wrong with my clothes?” She looks down at her skinny jeans and low cut top from last night. “Okay, you’re right. I’ll meet you downstairs and we can run to my house.” She jumps from the bed to leave the room.
“Kacey...” I grab her attention before she’s out the door. “Thank you,” I whisper.
It’s a new year.
Chapter Seventeen
Kennedy
My eyes dart to the window as I watch buildings pass. I turn in hopes of an answer to the question I’ve asked three times.
“Where are you taking me?” My knees bob up and down as silence engulfs the space once again.
All week, Mark hasn’t given anything away about our big date. All I know is he’s thrilled with the fact that I’m clueless and at his mercy. With school starting on Monday, he’s demanded he take me out on a real date—whatever that means.
Mark has one hand on the steering wheel and the other feather light on my bare thigh. I’m wearing the dress and cowboy boots Violet bought me for Christmas. It was worth the grin I got when I walked out of my bedroom earlier tonight, looking as if I jumped out of a country music video.
“Do you have any idea where we’re at?” Mark chuckles.
“Somewhere outside of Nashville,” I shrug, “I’m assuming.”
“How long have you lived in Tennessee, Kennedy?”
“Since freshman year.”
“We’re in the heart of Nashville,” Mark answers. He turns to me with caution as he drives. “How is it possible that you’ve been right here all this time?” His low, thoughtful voice makes my breaths shallow.
Embarrassed by his question, I glance back at the passing buildings. “I tend to blend in,” I whisper to the window.
Mark pulls into a parking lot littered with cars. People walk towards the large building in front of us, and when I see the sign, I let out a rather embarrassing squeal.
I clap my hands in front of me as I gawk at the historic building. “The Grand Ole Opry.”
“I’m going to assume you’ve never been here before,” Mark states with a confident smile.
He parks in the closest spot he can find then swings open his door. I have no expectation of him opening my door, but I’m stuck to the seat in shock.
My door opens and Mark peers down at me. “You gonna come inside or listen to the music from out here?” A twinkle of mischief dances in his eyes.
I glance up at him with a broad grin. “Who are we seeing?”
“You’ll need to move your ass to find out, Ken.” Mark draws me from the interior of his car and reaches around me to grab his coat. His cologne envelops me. He smells almost sweet, but not in a flowery way.
As we walk towards The Grand Ole Opry House, I grab his hand and look up at the massive structure. Large windows allow outsiders to see the oversized, circular, saloon-like fixtures hanging in the large lobby. I’ve never seen anything like this place. It’s as if the music bleeds from the silent walls. Indescribable excitement overcomes my heart when we walk through the door.
I twirl a couple times for the best chance of seeing every square inch of this building. I’m a dancer. I use music to move me, sometimes without my recognition. Standing where some of the greats have stood humbles me.
“You feel it, don’t you?” Mark whispers in my ear. His chest rests against my back. “I figured you of all people could appreciate this place. When we walked in, I saw the look on your face.” Mark whirls me around to face him. “That one right there is worth never bringing another girl here. No one could understand the beauty of this place quite like you.”
“You’ve never brought anyone else here?” My cheeks heat the moment the thought spills out into actual words.
Mark’s eyebrows raise, only to make me laugh. “Is that a surprise to you?” He guides me to the large doors leading into the auditorium. I stay silent. “I’ve never dated anyone besides you. Maybe a dinner here or there, but I never put much thought into them. I just always assumed I had plenty of time to be serious about someone, and high school was meant to just...”
“Fuck around?” I blurt, m
aking us both laugh.
A middle-aged couple turns unapproving eyes on us. I mouth an apology.
“Yeah, but luckily for you, I see the error of my ways.” Mark winks.
We step into the large room, and my breath is stolen straight from my chest. Rows and rows of wooden pews line the entire floor. Mark guides me down to our seats. He takes his while I take in my surroundings. The balcony has seating beyond where my eyes can reach. The dark lighting that shadows that part of the room seems miles away.
As I settle into my seat, Mark wraps his arm around my shoulder and perfectly tucks me into his side. His warmth causes goosebumps on every inch of my body. The gesture seems natural, as if we found each other for a reason.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper as my eyes shift across the stage full of instruments.
“Yeah, it is,” Mark says into my ear. “The most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
“I’m talking about the building.” I tilt my head in his direction.
“And I’m talking about you.”
The lights fade and an older man walks onto the stage.
“How y’all doing tonight?” he shouts with a contagious enthusiasm. “I said, ‘how y’all doing tonight?’” The crowd hoots and whistles in reply. “That’s what I thought. Now, I hear we have a special guest in the audience. Someone who’s never been here before.” He scans the audience until his eyes fall on Mark then jump to me. “There you are, sweetheart.”
I crane my neck to look behind me. Mark’s eyes fill with laughter, and I realize the announcer’s talking about me.
“Mark, what did you do?” I hiss through a forced smile as I turn back towards the stage.
“Your boyfriend, Mark, happens to be a great friend of the Opry House, so we were thrilled to hear from him. We don’t do this often, but for the Whitmore’s, here at the Opry, we would do just about anything.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Now, Mark, get your ass up here and show her what you’ve been hiding.”
Mark’s fingers slip from mine as he plants a kiss on my cheek. “There’s more to me than baseball and drunken nights, Kennedy.” His mouth feathers my ear as he whispers his confession. He stands but doesn’t turn away from me. “I just need you to know there’s more to me than what you may think.” He inches away and walks backwards up the steps while keeping his eyes locked on me.
Shocked, I watch the older gentleman pat him on the back and wink down at me. People around me smile with encouragement. Wearing an uncomfortable grimace on my lips, I try to hide my discomfort. The unknown and the unexpected tend to jump up and bite people when they least expect it.
Mark adjusts the microphone, his eyes never leaving mine. As if he belongs on the stage, several musicians pat him on the back just as the older gentleman did.
“Hey everyone.” Mark clears his throat. “For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Mark Whitmore, and this beautiful girl,” he points down to me, “well, she’s my girlfriend, Kennedy, and by the look on her face, she’s ready to kick my ass.” Everyone laughs, including me. Mark speaks to the audience, but his blues captivate me. “You’re the most free-spirited, strong, determined girl I know. It’s because of this that I thought I would give back to you because you’ve done so much for everyone else.”
I wipe a tear from my cheek. A short blonde hands Mark a guitar. He adjusts the strap until he finds the spot where it’s most comfortable in his arms. I glance around the audience to see everyone watching him in awe, as they wait to see what he’ll do. Guys like Mark have that effect on people.
My eyes close at the first strum of the strings. An eternity passes until I hear the first words sung from his mouth. In a separate world, apart from the others around me, Mark spills himself into a song directed at me. My eyes spring open as he glides his fingers over the chords.
After everything I’ve been through this past year, I never thought someone would lift me up like Mark is in this moment. He releases everything he has into the song. Everyone in the room feels it. As the music ends, the room fills with a roar.
Mark’s eyes hold me when the older man takes his original spot on the stage, pats him on the back, and takes the mic as Mark walks down the steps.
“You are one lucky girl,” he says. “Tell your mom and dad that everyone at the Opry House says hi.” He goes on to announce the next act.
So enthralled with Mark as he steps next to me, I wouldn’t have noticed if Johnny Cash himself rose from the grave and sang “Ring of Fire.”
“When were you going to tell me you could do all that?” I wrap my arms around his waist, pressing myself in his open embrace.
“I thought it would be better this way,” he whispers into my hair.
The band begins to play, but we cling to each other.
“You’re unbelievable.” I don’t allow too much distance between us. The twinkle in Mark’s eyes makes my words worth it. He’s proud and on some high over the performance.
“Thanks, babe.” Mark drops his arm from around me. At the same time, we reach for the other’s hand. Our eyes meet and everything makes sense for the first time in a long time.
The remainder of the show is brilliant. Some of the performers are new to me, but I walk away with a few new favorites.
“Did you have a good time?” Mark asks as we leave.
The chilly air sends a shiver through me. Mark lays his coat over my shoulders, and I clutch it to me and wrap up in his scent on the leather.
“The best night,” I offer with a sideways glance. Mark attempts to hide his smile by turning his head, but I catch it just in time. “You know, it’s still early. I’m not ready for the night to be over.”
“I know a place we can go,” Mark suggests.
He opens the passenger door for me before racing around to jump into the driver’s seat. Even though he cranks the heat, I snuggle deeper into his coat. Something of his blanketing me makes me smile.
His gaze lands on me before he releases his foot from the brake, and his lips find mine in a quick exchange that drips with understanding. He’s slow to back away, and when he does, his hand finds mine as he reverses from our spot and heads towards wherever he’s taking me.
Lights illuminate the storefronts and the neon signs of bars. We pass a few streets before turning into a bustling parking lot. I don’t wait for Mark to open my door, which earns me a look of annoyance. Sometimes I forget guys who can be gentlemen still exist. Even if they can be total jackasses sometimes, southern boys are raised right.
“Barbeque?” I question as Mark meets me near the trunk.
“Is that okay?” he asks, his voice reluctant.
I smile. “It’s perfect. I haven’t had good barbeque in a while.”
“This is the best in all of Tennessee. I swear, my family’s taken me here every year on my birthday since I could chew. I’m surprised Graham never brought you here.”
I ignore the unnecessary comment and switch gears not to fall into the quicksand of that conversation. “When is your birthday?” We’ve spent so much time together, the mundane question feels weird.
“Summer. July twenty-fifth.” Mark smirks. “When’s yours?”
“November sixth.” I smile back at him as he leads me inside. “I was a late bloomer.”
Mark squeezes my hip in his hand. “You surely made up for it.”
After the hostess ushers us to our table, we grab menus and I smirk at him from across the table.
“Is there anything else I should know about you? Favorite color? Favorite food? Favorite band?” Mark interrogates.
I raise an eyebrow. “What all do you want to know?” I challenge.
He leans over the table and I mimic his movement to meet him halfway. “Everything.”
“Ask away then.” I grin and duck behind my menu. My head pops back up to find his toothy grin staring back at me. “Actually, I have something to ask you.”
“Ask away,” Mark mocks, his eyebrows raised.
“Can you e
xplain being invited on stage tonight? I mean, I may not have lived in Tennessee all my life, but I do know that things like that don’t just happen. What’s your story, Mark?”
His menu drops and lands in front of him. With his hands folded on the tabletop, he smiles. “My family is a huge contributor. Simple as that.”
“Makes sense,” I offer with an approving head nod. “Now, it’s your turn. I’m an open book.” My arms cross over each other on the table.
Just as his mouth opens, our waitress interrupts us. Mark orders dinner and drinks for us. In most situations, I find the gesture demeaning, as if I’m not capable of such an easy task like choosing a meal. When Mark rambles off our choices, I find it charming.
“What’s it like for you when you dance?” Mark blurts as soon as we are alone.
I grab my purse to delay answering such a complicated question. I dig in the front pocket to find my chap stick, remove the cap, and glide the peppermint-scented ball over my lips. His eyes watch my every move.
I release a breath. “It’s freeing and therapeutic. Almost like everything in the world falls away,” I explain. Memories of dance surround me. My eyelids droop until they fully close. “Nothing can touch me and nothing else matters. It’s just me and the music.” My eyes open to Mark’s attentive look, clear as the morning sky. “What?” I smile.
“You should see the way your face softens when you talk about it. It’s enthralling,” Mark answers with a breathtaking honesty.
“Enthralling?”
“SAT buzz words. My mom’s going to be so proud.” Mark chuckles under his breath.
I laugh and shake my head.
His eyes smolder as he watches me. “I didn’t know you at all last year, Kennedy.” He smiles at our waitress who drops off our drink order. He turns back to me. “But now I do, and I wish I would’ve looked closer before. You are spectacular.”
“Another buzz word?” I joke, trying to cool the heat of the moment.
“I’ve got index cards full of words to compliment you with, babe.” Mark scoffs.
I lean over the table to touch my mouth to his. The gesture is quick but worth it. Mark licks his lips, drawing my full attention to their perfect form.
