Magic Minutes (The Time Series Book 2)

by Jennifer Millikin

  I sit facing the bathroom wall, straddling the closed toilet, while Dayton blow-dries my hair. He’s focused on his task and not talking while I replay last night’s events in my head. What is it about Noah that makes me unable to control myself? His scent, his face, his voice, they all cause a knee-jerk reaction in me.

  I bite my lip as Dayton yanks my head back with the tug of the round brush. All of this isn’t a good idea. I know that. Nothing good can come from seeing Noah again. But what’s the purpose of good? Where does good get people? And what if good and right aren’t synonymous?

  Exposing my heart to Noah is the opposite of good.

  But it’s not wrong.

  And that’s why I’m letting Dayton yank on my head with the torture device he’s wielding. It’s also why I’ve agreed to wear the emerald green dress he brought from his shop. The bodice is so tight I’ll be short of breath the entire evening, but while I’m gasping for air, I’m going to look amazing.

  22

  Noah

  “Alyssa wants to kill you.”

  “Hello to you too,” I say to Brody, walking into his makeshift dressing room at the church.

  Reaching out, I rub his newly hair-free cheek with an open palm. “Smooth as Grandma’s ass.”

  Brody’s lips turn down even further. “Fuck you. And don’t disrespect the dead.”

  “I thought it was more of a compliment,” I mutter, turning away. “I’ll find Alyssa and apologize.” Is it really that hard to find a chair and squeeze someone in at a table? This wedding stuff sounds like a bunch of high expectations and nonsense.

  Brody’s rapid head shake stops me before I can walk out the door to find the blushing bride.

  “What?”

  “Don’t do it.” He grabs his beer from the little table. “She’s crazy today,” he pauses, lips poised for a drink. “Lie low and behave. She’s happy she’ll get to see Ember again, and she already had the planner rework some stuff to accommodate, but she’s on a warpath.”

  I grab a bottle of beer from the mini-fridge Brody brought and sit. “I never saw Alyssa as the bridezilla type.”

  “Me neither. Just nerves, probably. She put a lot of work into today.”

  He’s still talking, I think about how much planning this all took, but my mind has already moved on to long red hair and that damn dandelion tattoo.

  She liked my tattoo, even though she teased me about it. She’d tease me mercilessly if she knew about the tattoo I almost got one night two years ago. Copious amounts of vodka and a broken heart don’t mix well, and I almost had the permanent Shmily to prove it.

  Thanks to Tripp, I am Shmily free. Not completely, though. My heart bears the word.

  “And that’s when the alien switched Mom’s head with a gerbil. It was too much weight for the gerbil to carry, so he was crushed and then—”

  “Brody, what the fuck are you talking about?” His words sink in and I feel guilty. How long was he spinning that yarn?

  He gives me a dirty side-eye. “I hope you listen better to Ember.”

  I don’t answer. I just finish the beer. It’s like my brain has stepped out of my body, and my heart is doing all the deciding right now. Every move I’ve made since I saw her on the street yesterday was brainless, but damn if it doesn’t all feel really, really good.

  “What’s up with you two anyway? Are you going to come back and start up again?”

  The couch catches me with a nice thud as throw myself back. “Didn’t you already give me your opinion on that?”

  “Yes. But I talked to Alyssa about it last night. She pointed out that maybe it’s the universe’s way of giving you a second chance. There was pretty much no hope for you guys before, but now…” He shrugs. “You’re back. And single. She’s still here. And single.”

  “I haven’t officially moved back. I could still get a call.” Always on the hook. Always waiting for something that may never happen.

  “How likely is that?”

  I sigh and eye my empty beer, wishing I had another full one in my reach. “Not very. They should’ve called by now.”

  Brody hooks an arm around my shoulder, and for a second, I think he’s going to rub his knuckles on my hair. Instead he pulls me in roughly. “I want whatever you want. Got it, little brother?”

  I nod. “I want whatever Alyssa wants for you.”

  He chuckles and lets me go. “Smart man.”

  When the wedding planner pops her head in and tells us it’s go-time, I follow Brody into the sanctuary and take my place with the other groomsmen at the front. Dad comes up and hugs Brody first, then me. My stomach drops as I search the crowd for red hair. I scan the aisles, every pew, and nothing.

  I pull my phone from my pocket to send her a message, and at that second one pops up on my screen.

  Lose something?

  Grinning, I look up to see Ember waving from the back of the church. She’s standing in front of the open doors. The breeze slips in from the outside, causing the lower half of her dress to swirl around her. She laughs, rolling her eyes, and pushes it down. She chooses a seat on the grooms side and sits gracefully. Shoulders pulled back, gaze on me, her lips are full and begging to be kissed.

  I type out a quick response. Your lips look lonely without mine on them.

  She pulls her phone from her purse, her eyes on the screen for only a moment. She grins, looks up at me, then back to her phone.

  The response bubbles pop up on my screen, and her message comes through.

  Interesting. My lips were doing okay until you showed up yesterday.

  Just okay?

  Okay is not a bad place to be.

  Okay is not good.

  Good isn’t always right.

  Did you major in philosophy?

  Shit.

  My fingers freeze, hovering above my screen. I rub my eyes with my thumb and pointer finger. Why can’t life have a rewind button? Just rub it in that she didn’t go to college, idiot. Way to go.

  Apprehension sticks in my throat like some kind of foul-tasting gelatinous substance. When I remove my hand, my eyes find Ember. She’s poised, her expression unchanged, but in her gaze I see disappointment.

  In me?

  In herself?

  The room is full of people, happy voices coming from all sides, but it’s as if there’s a film between us and everyone else in the room. Ember and I could be alone right now, having a conversation with our eyes.

  I wanted you to come to college with me.

  You know I couldn’t leave my mother and Sky.

  You didn’t have to give up your future for them.

  I didn’t. My future hasn’t gone anywhere. Anyway, sacrifice doesn’t have to hurt.

  How so?

  When you sacrifice to make someone happy, and their happiness makes you happy, then it doesn’t hurt.

  It’s easy to imagine Ember’s bright, full eyes communicating with me. I wish I could touch her right now. My fingers ache to press into her skin, to leave my imprint.

  “It’s okay.” Ember mouths, her face full of unspoken emotions.

  And suddenly, it is okay.

  Everything that has happened between us is okay. Like a wave sweeping in, crashing at the shore, and pulling grains of sand back with it, welcoming them back into the fold.

  Yesterday, last night, right now—these are moments that comprise the story of us.

  Noah and Ember.

  The ceremony starts, and it’s impossible to take my eyes off Ember. She watches the bridesmaids, the maid of honor, the flower girl, the bride, and I watch her.

  She’s captivating.

  “How long do you think we have to stay here?” I nuzzle my nose against the side of Ember’s head, soaking in the scent of her. We’re seated at a table but I’m facing her, my legs wide, while she leans back into my chest. Her shoulder bumps against my chest with her chuckle.

  “Long enough to watch their first dance, cut the cake, speeches… You know, all the stuff you’re su
pposed to be here for.”

  I’m high on Ember, on the vanilla-and-orange scent of her shampoo, on being with the woman who never gave my heart back after she stole it when we were eighteen. “Our wedding won’t be such a fuss,” I announce quietly.

  She sits up, turning weary eyes on me. “Noah.” Her tone of voice has turned my name into a warning.

  I don’t care. Not right now. “What?” I ask, defiant. What’s so wrong with my words? Nearly four years apart didn’t dull the glimmer of our magic. That means something. I want to be reckless right now, make plans, and keep them.

  For the first time since I tried out for the professional team, I’m hoping my phone never rings. If they don’t come calling, I won’t have to choose between Ember and the one thing I’ve been working for my whole life. We could have a normal relationship. I’ll get the kind of job that will have me home everyday and we could build a life.

  Ember tucks a strand of hair behind one ear. The small gold stud earring she wears shines in the strings of lights hanging over our table. “I don’t think you should be talking that way.”

  “I know. I want to though. Do you understand? I want to.” My eyes squeeze shut, the frustration grabbing ahold of me. I want to make Ember a million promises.

  “You’re not in a position to make big statements like that. It’s not fair. To me, or you.”

  She’s right. Of course she is.

  “Ember!”

  Alyssa’s voice rings behind me.

  Ember stands, smiling broadly, and steps into Alyssa’s open arms. “Congratulations.”

  My brother is by Alyssa’s side, and when Ember pulls back, she turns to him and repeats herself.

  Brody opens his arms and doesn’t give Ember a choice. He pulls her into a hug and says something into her ear. She glances at me and laughs. I frown immediately. There’s no telling what that fucker said.

  Alyssa pulls Ember into conversation, while Brody zeros in on me.

  “You doing okay?”

  “I’m better when my brother isn’t talking shit about me to my…” The sentence falls short.

  Brody raises his eyebrows but keeps his mouth shut. Ember hasn’t heard my floundering sentence, or if she has, she’s pretending it doesn’t bother her.

  “Relax, man.” Brody steps closer, leaning in so were face to face. “I told her she’s the only thing besides soccer that makes you crazy.”

  Oh.

  Well, that’s true.

  Stepping back, he slips a hand around Alyssa’s waist. She stops mid-sentence and gazes up at him.

  “We should probably keep greeting people.” Brody looks around. “It’s awkward, but necessary.”

  Ember and I send them off and sit back down.

  “Now can we go?” I ask, setting my hand on her knee and grabbing a handful of the silky green fabric.

  Ember shakes her head. “We have the rest of the night, and I’m not going anywhere. Just enjoy the wedding.”

  I sit back, sip from my water, and try to rein in my eagerness. Everything feels more urgent, more important, like every minute I spend with Ember carries more weight than the one before. I can’t help the feeling that there’s a timer on us. More than just me having to go back to Stanford because I have an apartment there. That can be easily dealt with. Break the lease, put Tripp’s stuff in storage, and move back. Dust off my hands and be done with college.

  I sit through all the reception rituals. Ember and I find my parents and talk with them. My mother almost falls from her chair when she sees us approaching. Maybe I should’ve told her I was bringing Ember, but I went straight from Ember’s to find Brody at the church, leaving no time for conversation with my mom. My dad is as jolly as ever, but he’s probably had a few glasses of wine. He hugs Ember and tells her she looks just like she did when she was eighteen.

  Finally, people begin to filter out. My parents say goodnight, and my dad pulls me aside.

  “Is that where you spent last night?” He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his rented tux and ducks his chin, talking quietly.

  I glance at Ember. She’s in conversation with Alyssa, and they’re laughing and touching each other’s forearms.

  “Yeah. I stayed at Ember’s.”

  “Hmm.” He rubs his chin. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

  An angry breath jumps out of me. “I’m not having this conversation with anyone else. I’m an adult. So is Ember.”

  His hands go up in the air between us, palms out. “Don’t get mad. I’m a concerned parent.” He sighs like he’s letting go of something. “Go have fun. Spend some time with your high school sweetheart. Don’t let your old man stop you.”

  I soften a little. “Thanks, Dad.”

  He pats my shoulder before he turns away from me. “Johanna,” he calls to my mother, “Take this tired man home.”

  When my parents are gone, I tug Ember’s hand.

  She gives me a look, and I notice her pink cheeks. “Yes, now we can go,” she says.

  “Why are you flushed,” I ask, stopping at our table. Ember grabs her purse and waits, watching as I hook my suit jacket from the back of my seat with one finger and sling it over my shoulder.

  “This dress is incredibly tight.” She looks uncomfortable even as she says it, running her hands over the flatness of her stomach.

  Together we head for the parking lot. “Take it off.”

  She throws me a derisive look. “Um, okay, yeah. Sure.”

  “I dare you to drive home without that dress on.”

  Her eyes widen, but her tongue darts out to lick her top lip, exhilaration rippling across her face. “A dare? How old are you?”

  I wiggle my eyebrows and say nothing.

  She stares at me, her lips twisting as she considers it. “It would be nice to breathe again.”

  I take a deep breath and exhale loudly. “Feels good. Bet you’d like to feel that good.”

  “Okay, okay.” She flicks out a hand and smacks my chest. “You’re overselling it.”

  “So you’ll do it?”

  “If I did it I would keep my underwear on. Wouldn’t want to show off my hiney.”

  Laughter tumbles from my chest. “Am I still ass-y?”

  “Oh, yes.” Her expression is solemn. “Ass-y still defines you.” She looks pleased as she stops and digs through her purse. Producing her keys, she points them into the night and presses the button. A few rows away a car beeps and lights flash.

  Relief flits across her face. “I forgot where I parked.” She starts for her car.

  “Do you do that often?” I ask, falling in step beside her.

  Her gaze briefly meets mine before returning to the sidewalk. “Only when I’m meeting the ghost from love life past and it makes me feel weird things.”

  We get to her car and I pull open her door. “Get in and disrobe. Then you won’t be nervous anymore. Like picturing people naked when you’re nervous, but the opposite.”

  She steps into the open space between her door and her car. “I’m not nervous.” Defiance makes her chin jut out.

  “I am.” The admittance flies out, dodging my filter and shooting into the thick, uncertain space between our bodies.

  She lowers herself into the seat without responding. She’s thinking. I haven’t moved. I feel stuck, hovering in some weird haze, and I’m not sure how to move forward. I need Ember to take the reins now. She needs to tell me how this will go. She stares up at me, studying my eyes. She’s always been able to pierce my defenses, pin me with her gaze, and strip away the layers until I’m left bare.

  “Follow me home, Noah.”

  So I do.

  This time, she lets me into her house without hesitation. My hand in hers, she pulls me through the place, into her room, and shuts the door.

  Like last night, she takes charge. Her hands are on me first, pulling at my tie and lifting it over my head. Fingers nimbly open buttons, skim my torso, reach down and unzip me. She works her dress over her head, and the
n I take over.

  I’m slow with her, savoring the curve of her backside, the way her belly dips low and her hip bones jut out when she’s on her back. This is the way last night would’ve gone if carnal need hadn’t engulfed us.

  She falls asleep quickly when it’s over. I’m exhausted too, but the wheels in my mind are turning, excited by the prospect of Ember being mine again.

  It’s easy to see that happening, as long as my phone doesn’t ring. If I get a call from the recruiter, I don’t know what I’ll do. Soccer is like a drug. Playing is like a drug. Like any other addiction, the hit of dopamine is strong and powerful. The reality is, I’m only as good as my last shot. And so, I chase the dream, the possibility that every shot can be better than the last, every hit of dopamine can feel just as good as the one before it.

  Maybe being in love is the same way. The addiction, the dopamine, the desire for more.

  Ember, snuggled into my arms, makes an incoherent sound but doesn’t wake.

  My eyes close and I drift. Sleep is coming on quickly, but ahead of it are thoughts of high school. Of sneaking off to my parents’ beach house, the way she showed me how to dance without music, and how long she waited to tell me what shmily meant.

  There hasn’t been a minute, not since the day I pulled her from that lake, that I didn’t love her. Back then, and today.

  I love this girl.

  23

  Ember

  Day two waking up like this.

  Noah snores softly, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm. I trail a hand over the expanse. His muscles are well-defined but not bulky. If there is one thing I know for sure, it’s that his body was made for soccer.

  His eyes flutter open, and a low sound reverberates through his chest.

  “Sorry I woke you,” I whisper.

  “No you’re not.” His voice is scratchy.

  “You’re right,” I say, grinning. I’m not sorry at all.

  He rolls over so he’s facing me. “I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry. I worked up an appetite last night.”