Once Upon A Rock Star

by Yessi Smith

  I close my eyes.

  I touch my lips to hers.

  Her neck arches, her mouth seeking mine.

  My tongue sneaks out, tasting.

  Her tongue tangles.

  And then it’s a rush.

  Of lips and tongues and teeth and wet and everything I’ve never felt.

  I try to catch my breath but can’t.

  And I don’t care.

  If this is how I go out, losing my air because of this girl, her lips, and her skin beneath my fingertips I’ll die happy.

  She’s an immediate drug.

  Something I’ll never get enough of.

  My tongue tastes every single centimeter of her mouth.

  Hers does the same.

  My hands run down her sides, over the tiny expanse of skin showing on her stomach then back up to frame her face.

  Her hands smooth down my biceps, squeezing before settling on my forearms.

  We pull back slightly, gasping for breaths.

  I lean my forehead against hers. “Holy shit,” I say, breathless.

  “Oh my gosh,” she replies, just as breathless.

  “Sav… I’ve never…”

  “Me either.”

  “I think we need to… fuck me I can’t believe I’m going to say this out loud.”

  “What?” she asks, her head turning slightly to the side as she tries to understand where I’m going with my hesitation.

  “I think we need to not go to my place,” I say, reluctance clear in my voice.

  “Why not?” she asks, hurt showing in her eyes.

  I lick my lips. “You’re more than just tonight. To me? You feel… more. Everything.”

  “What?” she asks again, this time her voice shaky but a slight smile displayed on her face.

  “You heard me.”

  “Yeah I did. But that was pretty magical. I think my lady bits exploded and we’ll have to go find them somewhere in Canada so I want to hear that line again.”

  A burst of laughter explodes from me, throwing my head back but never taking my hands off her.

  She leans up and kisses the column of my throat then shifts so her knees are on the seat.

  “I think I know what you mean,” she tells me, her eyes serious.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Savannah… why haven’t I met you yet?”

  She shrugs a slender shoulder and bites her lip.

  “I’ve met you now.”

  “And I’ve met you.”

  “Best show of my fucking life.”

  She giggles again, the happiest noise I’ve ever heard.

  “I’m not ready to say goodnight.” She smiles. A bright smile that does something to me. What, I’m not sure.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to say goodnight.”

  She punches me lightly in the shoulder. “There you go again. Saying all these swoony things.”

  “Let’s get that coffee.”

  “Ice cream,” she corrects me.

  “Ice cream it is.”

  I hop in the driver’s seat and head to the 24-hour grocery store closest, we each grab a pint of Ben & Jerry’s, a couple plastic spoons from the salad bar area and I drive us to one of my favorite spots.

  “This good?” I ask her when I put the pickup in park, nodding out to the lake in front of us.

  “It’s perfect.”

  “Tell me something about you my sister doesn’t know.”

  “Like what?”

  “Anything.”

  “I’m not wearing any underwear.”

  I choke on a spoonful of Urban Bourbon and she giggles, covering her mouth with the back of her hand, leaning against the passenger door.

  “You need to warn a guy!”

  She puts her ice cream on the center console and bends her body in half, laughing so hard she snorts.

  She sits up straight, eyes wide.

  “Did you just snort?!” I laugh.

  “No,” she says through laughter.

  “Uh, yeah. Yeah, you did.”

  “It’s just… the look on your face!”

  “Well, pardon me! I was a little shocked.”

  “So worth it.”

  “Wait. Are you joking?!” I ask incredulously. “I didn’t know you were so mean!”

  “Of course I’m wearing underwear! First of all, I’m wearing jeans in case you hadn’t noticed…”

  “Oh I noticed…”

  She goes on like I didn’t just interrupt her, “And jeans have a seam down the center. It… hurts! I can’t go commando in jeans.”

  “I can.”

  Her eyes go so wide I think they’re going to pop out of her head.

  I smirk. “Turn about’s fair play, baby.”

  “Jerk!”

  “You deserved that one,” I say leaning over to kiss her lips. “Mmm. Half baked never tasted so good.”

  She dips her spoon in to the container and lifts it to my lips.

  My tongue swirls around the spoon, licking it clean, my eyes never leaving hers while hers never leave my lips.

  “Tell me something about yourself, Savannah.”

  She groans. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

  “Not a chance. I told you my heart told me I needed to get to know you.”

  “You did say that, didn’t you?”

  “If I remember right, I think it was the first thing that made you swoon,” I smile, letting a dimple pop.

  “Oh you’re good.”

  “I know.”

  “Hmm, okay. Well, I assume you’re wanting more than one thing.”

  Nod.

  “My favorite food…”

  Shake of the head.

  “She knows that stuff. Trust me. She sees everything.”

  She rolls her eyes.

  “I don’t know what you want me to tell you!” She giggles.

  “Yeah. You do.”

  She sucks in a deep breath and glances out the window.

  “I don’t know how,” she whispers into the dark.

  I look out the windshield as we finish eating our ice cream in peaceful intimacy, brushing each other’s hands every so often, sharing spoonfuls of ice cream, her asking me questions about the band, my music, what I do when I’m not playing, anything to keep the topic off her. All the while, I’m wondering where in the hell this amazing girl came from. The girl who is blowing me away with every word out of her mouth.

  Every light touch.

  Every twinkle of her eye that’s directed at me.

  Every haunted look that tells me there’s something bigger happening in her life.

  Something I’ll have to dig deep to discover.

  “One day, Savannah.”

  “Yeah,” she sighs.

  Chapter Four

  Savannah

  I didn’t have a normal childhood.

  Well, I should amend that. I had a normal childhood in my world. For everyone else around me? Probably not typical. Or at least, I would hope not.

  My parents left when I was a teen.

  They didn’t die.

  They just… left.

  My sister raised me. She was barely twenty but knew that the foster system for a sixteen-year-old would have been horrible. She had a college friend who had been through the system and to put it mildly, it wasn’t good. According to my sister Grace, it’s another reason their other friend, Lily, felt like she wanted to be a social worker.

  It wasn’t that she was really changing much, though. My parents were absent from our lives from the time I was ten. She was only fourteen at the time and had to navigate high school, getting into college, and having a little sister who needed her all by herself.

  She’s my hero.

  And aside from Grace, whose name is more than fitting, I’ve never allowed anyone to get close. Even Mia, who might think she knows me, doesn’t really.

  It’s not that I’m not aware that I won’t let people in. It’s that I can’t.

 
; The two people who were supposed to be with me forever didn’t look back once.

  Not when Grace had to sit by my side when my appendix burst and I had to go through emergency surgery.

  They didn’t show up when she walked the stage to graduate from college with honors.

  Didn’t show up the night I stayed home from my prom, crying, because I didn’t want to admit to Grace that, despite what I told her, I did want to go but knew we couldn’t afford the dress and didn’t want to put that burden on her.

  They weren’t there when I walked the stage to graduate from high school or when I got my college acceptance letters, along with the almost full ride scholarship I earned from working my tail off, knowing that was the only way I would be able to attend.

  Everything.

  That’s what they missed.

  And what they left me with was a closed-up heart.

  One that no one but Grace has been able to access.

  She’s been my entire world.

  My rock.

  My one and only solid.

  I owe her my life because… without her? I don’t even want to imagine where I would be.

  I’m staring out the window, watching the rain hit the window in slow streaks, thinking, like I try not to do so often, of the two people who abandoned me.

  Where are they right now?

  Do they ever think of me? Of us?

  Do they have regrets?

  And the worst question? The one I know will never be answered?

  Why?

  Why couldn’t they continue to love us?

  I hear my phone chime from the table and I lift my head from the cool glass, looking at from where I sit.

  It chimes three more times and I close my eyes.

  I know who it is.

  The same person who’s been texting me since the night we shared ice cream.

  And the best make out sessions of my entire life.

  The same man who’s been haunting my dreams since he dropped me off at my car.

  A single tear escapes and I angrily swipe at it.

  “Grace?!” I shout frantically through the house. “Grace! Grace! Grace!”

  “What!? What is it!?” she cries out, sliding around the corner to the kitchen, her hair a mess, sticking up all over the place and a smudge of mascara under her eye.

  I shove the piece of paper to her face.

  “This! This is what it is! What does this mean?”

  She looks down and I watch as her eyes track the words, her lips moving along as she reads. Her eyebrows scrunch together like she’s confused by what she’s reading. I know I was confused when I first saw it.

  It’s the first day of summer break. Grace is home from college. I woke up, came downstairs to have breakfast and found a letter taped to the fridge.

  “Read it!”

  “Be quiet! I am!”

  “Are they gone?! Why?”

  “I don’t know, Sava! I told you I’m trying to read it and let me read it!”

  She sits down on a kitchen chair, leaning over with her head between her hands, placing the letter on the table in front of her. Her eyes scan the page again and again.

  She looks up at me, tears streaking down her pretty face.

  I want to look just like her when I grow up.

  “Yeah, Sava, they’re gone.”

  “But… why? Why would they just… leave?”

  “I don’t know. I guess because they’re done being parents.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I don’t either.”

  I ball my fist and press it to my thigh.

  Bite my tongue to fight the tears that are threatening to escape.

  Angry that I’m still sad.

  Angry at them.

  Angry that this is the life Grace and I have to lead because they were selfish assholes.

  My phone chimes one more time and I take a shuddering breath before I stand up, snatch it up off the table and silence it.

  Along with my emotions.

  Chapter Five

  Brandon

  She won’t respond.

  It’s been five days and she won’t pick up the phone, answer any texts or, embarrassingly enough, accept my friend request on Facebook or accept my follow request on Instagram. Yes. I’m that desperate. And a bit pathetic. Whatever.

  “Why isn’t she answering?” My voice is whiny, my sister merely scoffs.

  “What? This is your fault. You brought her to me.”

  “How is it my fault you couldn’t close the deal?”

  “Close the deal? Are you a dude? You sound like a total douchebag.”

  “Awesome books.” Her eyes take on a wistful gaze.

  I stare at her, confused by the change of subject. “I’m sorry. What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Those books about douchebags and the Iowa wrestlers. They’re seriously the best books ever. And spot on. The author cracks my shit up.”

  “Cracks your shit… who even are you?”

  “Oh shut your pie hole… I’m awesome.”

  “Whatever. Just tell me what the hell to do here.”

  “Well, gee, I don’t know. Want me to braid your hair first or shall we paint each other’s nails?”

  “You’re mean.”

  “You’re a wuss.”

  “A wuss!?”

  “A wuss! Go get her! Don’t be such a wussy dumb ass and go after her.”

  I shake my head not even believing what I’m hearing and hold my phone up, like it contains some magical formula. “What do you think I’ve been doing?”

  “Calling?” she asks incredulously. “Texting? That’s all you’ve got?”

  “I don’t understand who you are right now.”

  “Brandon. Pull your head out of your ass. Savannah’s worth more than one night, right?”

  I nod.

  “Then do something more.”

  “I’m… I…”

  She groans, annoyed.

  “You’re so helpless.”

  She’s so rude. “And you took a damn mean pill this morning!”

  “Whatever. Grow a pair.”

  “Douche.”

  “Women can’t be douches.”

  “Yes. They can.” I point directly at her so she’s not confused as to who I’m talking about. “Just help,” I grumble.

  “Fine. I shouldn’t tell you this but we’re meeting tomorrow for lunch. I wanted to take her to James’s new place. Why don’t you just happen to be there?”

  James is Cole’s uncle who moved back to Liberty and reopened a restaurant that was run the fuck down. It was scary as shit. Now it’s the coolest, hottest new restaurant in the state of Michigan. People from Chicago travel north just to come to Balance.

  “Won’t she get pissed?”

  “No.”

  I look at her, one eye squinted.

  She raises her eyebrows and crosses her arms.

  “Do you have a better idea? Wuss?” She’s taunting me.

  “Fine! You win.”

  She fist pumps. Several times. Alternating between her right and left arm.

  “I LOVE it when I win.”

  Could she be more annoying?

  “Couldn’t tell.”

  “Oh stop. You love me.”

  “I literally have zero choice in that matter.”

  “Like you could resist me.”

  “How does Cole deal with you every day?”

  She shrugs her shoulders, smiling proudly. “He loves me.”

  I look at my phone one more time, hoping she’s miraculously responded in the last few minutes.

  No such luck.

  And I’ve turned into a girl.

  I groan and throw my head back, stand up and pace the room. I walk over to the kitchen and lean on the counter, my fingers gripping the countertop so tightly my knuckles turn white.

  “You need to chill out, Brandon.”

  “Why won’t she respond to my texts?” I whine.

  “St
op whining!”

  “I’m not whining!”

  “Why is my baby boy whining?”

  Oh crap. My parents are here. And I have no idea how long they’ve been standing in my house because I was in the middle of an epic pity party.

  “Who is she?” Mom asks, her eyes narrowed in on me.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say, voice full of innocence as I pick off a non-existent piece of lint… from my bare chest.

  “That’s what you’re rolling with? With that one?” My dad points with his thumb in Mom’s direction.

  I look to my sister, her eyes wide and nose scrunched. “Did you just enter our family? Remember when Cole and I started dating? She was shrewd. And knew everything, whether or not I told her.”

  “That could have something to do with Barrett being a big mouth, though.”

  “Like you have room to talk, Dad!”

  “This isn’t about me! It’s about you. Lying to your mother. Shame on you.” Dad shakes his head, scoffing, but I don’t miss the twinkle in his eye that proves he’s joking.

  “Your dad’s right. You should be ashamed of yourself. You’re hiding something. Someone.” Mom moves to the couch and pats the seat beside her. “Come. Tell Mama all about her.”

  “Oh my word! Mom! Stop! I’m not ten!”

  “Well, you’re sure acting like it, hiding important life moments.”

  “I’m not hiding anything!” I shout, the lie slipping off my tongue too easily.

  My mom clutches her chest then her arm as she slumps farther down onto the couch. “You see… what… you’re doing… to me? I’m an old woman, Brandon.”

  She gets a big eye roll for that show.

  “I gave you life. Eight months, two weeks, five days, and seventeen excruciating hours…”

  “Of pain and suffering, carrying Mia and me in your stomach, pushing to get the two of us squeezed out, enduring all that because you love us more than yourself.” I finish for her. Only heard it a time or a thousand.

  My mom narrows her eyes, suddenly over her fake heart attack.

  I glance at my sister who shifts her eyes away quickly, whistling. Now it’s my turn to narrow my eyes.

  “What’d you do?” I ask her, my voice low.

  “Nothing!” she squeaks as her fingers fly across her phone.

  “Mia?” I growl.

  “What?” Big damn doe eyes trying to look innocent.

  She seems to have momentarily forgotten that we’re twins.

  I march over and stand in front of her, lift her chin and look into her eyes.