Listen to Your Heart

by Sydney Logan

  Can I take you out tomorrow night?

  I hit send and close my eyes, praying she doesn’t tell me to go to hell. Which she could. And I would probably deserve it.

  Seconds later, she replies with a message that makes me laugh harder than I’ve laughed in days.

  I’ll cook. My place at seven. I bet we can find Dirty Dancing on cable.

  “This place smells like heaven.”

  Skye grins and waves me inside. “Thanks. I hope you like lasagna.”

  “Love it.”

  She leads me to the kitchen and offers me a glass of wine. Suddenly, I remember the small bouquet in my hand.

  “Oh, umm, these are for you.”

  Why am I nervous? I feel like I’m sixteen and going to the prom.

  Skye smiles brightly. “Thanks! They’re so pretty. How did you know I like wildflowers?”

  “I might have interrogated your nephew during guitar class. He said you liked daisies.”

  “He’s right. Thank you, Caleb.” She points toward the unopened bottle on the table. “Why don’t you pour while I find a vase?”

  “I can do that.” I quickly open the wine and fill our glasses. “I have to admit I was a little surprised about the daisies. Don’t most girls prefer roses?”

  “I think you’ll learn pretty fast that I’m not like most girls.”

  I already know. That’s why I can’t stop thinking about you.

  “Honestly, roses bore me,” she says, filling the vase with water before arranging the daisies and placing them in the center of the table. “I mean, they’re beautiful, but I see a lot of roses on a daily basis.”

  It dawns on me that I don’t know what she does for a living. She mentioned she owned her own business. Maybe she’s a florist?

  Before I can ask, she asks me to get silverware while she grabs the lasagna out of the oven.

  “This really looks delicious. Do you like to cook?”

  Skye nods. “I wish I could do it more. My job keeps me crazy busy. Plus, it kinda sucks cooking for one. I like to experiment when Eli’s around, but he prefers Burger Palace. I try to ignore the fact that I’m clogging his arteries at an early age. I’m a bad aunt.”

  We both laugh. Dinner’s awesome, naturally. In fact, everything about tonight is perfect. The food. The wine. The daisies. The easy conversation. The beautiful girl.

  Especially the beautiful girl.

  When we’re finished, Skye stands up and starts to clear the table, but I quickly reach for our plates.

  “You cooked. I’ll clean.”

  “Caleb, you don’t have to.”

  “I want to. Go find Dirty Dancing and I’ll do the dishes. It’s the least I can do.”

  She laughs and reaches for what’s left of the garlic bread. “I was kidding about the movie. I really just wanted an excuse to cook for you.”

  “And it was awesome, so let me thank you by loading the dishwasher.”

  “You’re ridiculous.”

  “And a little adorable?”

  “More than a little.”

  Her confession makes me smile.

  “Did I say that out loud?” she whispers.

  “You did.”

  “Totally didn’t mean to.”

  “Totally love that you did.”

  “Can you forget that I said it?”

  “Not a chance.”

  Reaching for her free hand, I pull her closer until our bodies are just barely touching. Skye gasps quietly . . . so quietly I wonder if it’s my own gasp instead of hers.

  My skin tingles.

  My heart pounds.

  Our eyes lock.

  For a brief, crazy moment, I think about kissing her. Right here, in the middle of her kitchen. Just wrapping her in my arms and doing what I’ve wanted to do since the moment we met.

  But we’re standing in her kitchen. And she’s holding garlic bread.

  “I think you’re adorable, too. More than adorable. I don’t know that much about you, but I already think you’re the coolest and the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever met in my entire life. I’m so thankful that you were at The Boombox last night, and I can’t believe you invited me over for dinner. I’m feeling grateful for a lot of things tonight, so please take our wine and go to the living room. I’ll meet you there in exactly ten minutes, because there’s nowhere on this planet I’d rather be than on that couch and watching that movie. With you.”

  It’s not the most eloquent of heartfelt speeches, but it’s honest. Skye blinks slowly before carefully placing the basket of bread on the table. She takes the wine and our glasses and heads toward the living room. Before she steps out of the kitchen, she stops and turns around.

  “Ten minutes. I’m timing you.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Her answering smile does crazy things to my soul. I’m falling too hard, too fast, and I don’t know how to stop.

  What’s even worse?

  I don’t want to stop.

  Skye might have said she was just kidding about making me watch Dirty Dancing, but that didn’t stop her from having the DVD ready to go when I made it into the living room.

  Ten minutes later—as promised.

  We’re on her comfy couch, snuggled under a blanket that smells like lavender. The room’s dark, except for the light of the television screen and the rays of setting sun that flicker through the curtains. Skye’s snuggled up against me and sliding her fingers along mine in a slow, lazy pattern that’s driving me insane and making it impossible to concentrate on the movie.

  “Okay, next trivia question,” she says.

  “I’m ready.”

  “You sure? I mean, you’ve missed them all so far.”

  “That’s because you’re a freak with a head full of useless information about a movie I know nothing about.”

  She grins proudly. Since the opening credits, Skye’s tried to stump me with random trivia, and she’s been pretty successful since I know basically nothing about the movie except for the iconic scenes that have been burned into my brain thanks to cable television.

  She nods toward the TV. “Okay, see that gorgeous blonde?”

  “Johnny’s dance partner?”

  “Her name’s Penny.”

  “Like on The Big Bang Theory?”

  “Focus, Caleb.”

  It’s cute, how completely pissed she gets when I don’t take this seriously.

  “Sorry. Penny. What about her?”

  “Her real name is Cynthia Rhodes. She used to be married to a singer-songwriter who released his biggest hits in the late 80s and 90s and wrote a bunch of songs for a bunch of people. Name him.”

  What’s really sad is that I know this one. I don’t know how I know it—and I wouldn’t admit it to my friends—but I actually know this one. People can say what they want about his sappy love ballads, but Richard Marx is a kickass musician who taught himself how to play piano and wrote most, if not all, of his own songs. That’s always been my dream—to write, produce, and perform my own music and make a living at it. So Richard Marx is just one in a long list of musical heroes of mine, simply because he made his musical dreams a reality. Obviously, I didn’t realize that Richard Marx used to be married to Johnny Castle’s dance partner, but I actually know the answer to this one, and I’m psyched that I know it, because that means maybe I can finally impress this beautiful woman who is obsessed with this movie on a level that’s far from healthy.

  But that same beautiful woman’s snuggled up with me, looking all smug that she’s going to once again stump me with her movie knowledge. And every time she does, her smile lights up the room.

  I want to see that smile again, so I lie.

  “I have no idea, Skye.”

  “Richard Marx. He sang Right Here Waiting and—”

  I chuckle. “I know who Richard Marx is.”

  Skye laughs and melts deeper into my arms.

  Some lies are worth it.

  Some.

  Not all.

  I b
lock that depressing thought and wrap my arms around her. It’s been a long time since I cuddled, and I’m surprised to find how much I love it and how right it feels. By the time Johnny and Baby start dancing to I’ve Had the Time of My Life, Skye’s head is on my chest and my nose is buried in her hair. It’s simple and innocent and amazing, and I never want it to end.

  How am I going to make this last? What can I possibly do to make it work?

  “What’s wrong?” Skye asks softly.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your entire body just tensed up. The movie’s almost over, I promise.”

  I chuckle. “Nothing’s wrong.”

  It’s sort of true. At this moment, everything is perfect.

  As the dancers dance and the credits roll, Skye slowly lifts our linked hands out from under the blanket. I watch, spellbound, as her lips brush my fingertips. The sweet, innocent gesture breaks me, and I whisper her name. She tilts her face toward mine, and for the first time, I notice the little flecks of gold in her deep green eyes. Beautiful.

  “I don’t usually snuggle under my favorite blanket on a first date,” she says softly.

  “Technically, this is our second date.”

  “So, I guess snuggling’s okay.”

  “I think it’s perfect. You’re perfect. God, Skye, if I’d known . . .”

  I close my eyes, hoping to hide my shame. If I’d known Skye Douglas was in the world, I never would have agreed to marry Juliana. But life isn’t fair. We all know it, and nobody knows it better than Juliana and her family. All I’d have to do is tell Jules the truth, and she wouldn’t hesitate to let me go. She’d want me to go. But I made a promise to my best friend—a promise I had every intention of fulfilling until Skye walked into my life.

  “Hey,” she whispers, prompting me to open my eyes. “Where’d you go?”

  Is two weeks the extent of my happiness? Is that all I’m allowed?

  “I’m right here.”

  “You don’t look too happy about that. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong. And I am happy. You have no idea how much.”

  “Me, too. Still, all of this has happened so fast. It’s kind of overwhelming.” She laughs lightly. “You know, we’re putting an awful lot of pressure on ourselves. I mean, we haven’t even kissed yet. What if it sucks? Then we’re doomed, because I can’t be with someone who doesn’t make my toes curl when we kiss.”

  If two weeks is all I’m allowed, then I’m making the most of it.

  I slide my hand along the back of her neck, and Skye whimpers as our mouths collide. The blanket falls to the floor as she climbs into my lap, and I pull her close, groaning against her lips when she slides her hands through my hair, tugging gently on the ends as our kiss grows hungrier. There’s a desperation in our kiss, a frantic ache that threatens to swallow us whole if we don’t control ourselves.

  Then she shifts against me, pressing her hips roughly into mine, and all thoughts of self-control are shot to hell.

  “Caleb,” she pants against my mouth, breathless and beautiful with gorgeous green eyes that sparkle with excitement and need. This is so much more than a first kiss. First kisses are typically sweet and a little playful.

  But we aren’t typical.

  And I am the biggest asshole on the planet.

  Shame courses through me, causing me to break our kiss and bury my face against her neck. We hold each other, giving both of us the chance to catch our breath and find our sanity once again.

  “Hey,” she says softly. “Come back to me.”

  Smiling into her shining eyes, I pepper her face with tender kisses, silently begging her not to hate me. To have patience with me. To wait for me.

  I kiss her again, light and soft and adoring . . . just like a first kiss should be. With a quiet sigh, Skye rests her head against my chest.

  “Caleb?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Are you really as perfect as you seem?”

  No. But she doesn’t know that, and I pray I can find a way to keep her from finding out.

  “I was just wondering the same thing about you.”

  She tilts her head toward mine.

  “Caleb, I’m scared.”

  “What are you scared of?”

  “I’m scared of you. Scared of me. Scared of the way I feel . . . already.”

  I close my eyes, overwhelmed by the enormity of her confession. She’s so honest. And I’m . . . not. But I try.

  “I’m scared, too. For the exact same reasons.”

  “We just know so little about each other. I don’t know your favorite color or favorite band,” she says, laughing. “I don’t even know your last name.”

  I chuckle. “Well, those are easy. My favorite color’s green, my favorite band is Pink Floyd, and my last name’s—”

  Suddenly, my cell vibrates in my pocket, making us jump. We laugh, and she climbs out of my lap, giving me the chance to grab the phone. I regret it immediately, because a quick glance at my screen causes me to crash back down into reality.

  Tux fitting tomorrow. Forever Formals. 124 Brandy Lane. Meet Lynsey at three. Remind the guys. ~ J

  “Bad news?” Skye asks, her voice laced with concern.

  I turn off my phone and place it on the end table. “Not really. Just a reminder of something I wish I could forget.”

  “I’m sorry. The real world sucks sometimes.”

  “It really does.”

  Skye grabs the remote and turns off the TV before reaching down for the blanket that fell to the floor during our epic first kiss. She snuggles back into my arms.

  “Caleb, could we just stay here? Stay right here on this couch and sleep in each other’s arms and forget about the rest of the world? Just for tonight?”

  How can I possibly say no to that?

  I lower us down onto the couch, wrapping the blanket around us and holding her as tight as I possibly can. I slide my fingers through her hair, and she sighs contently.

  “Please don’t break my heart,” she whispers in the darkness.

  She drifts off to sleep, saving me from making a promise I’m doomed to break.

  It’s the most amazing morning in the history of mornings.

  While Skye sleeps peacefully in my arms, I gently trace the contours of her face. The arch of her eyebrows. Her petal-soft cheeks. The sweetest lips I’ve ever tasted.

  Please don’t break my heart.

  Those words echoed in my mind all night long. Her innocent plea, reminding me that I have to get my shit together before it all blows up in my face.

  “Good morning,” Skye says softly.

  I smile down into her sleepy green eyes. “Good morning.”

  “This is a wonderful way to wake up.”

  “The very best way.”

  Unfortunately, the real world beckons when her cell phone alarm blares. Almost immediately, she gets about a hundred text messages in a row.

  “Stupid texts,” she grumbles, burying her face against my chest.

  “Wow. You’re a popular girl at six in the morning.”

  “I’m really not. It’s just that my Do Not Disturb disables around the same time my alarm rings, so I get my overnight messages all at once.”

  “That’s a lot of messages.”

  “I know. These next few days are going to be insane.”

  With a groan, Skye struggles to sit up, but I tighten my arms and pull her close, brushing her nose with mine.

  “Wait.”

  I can’t let her go without kissing her one last time. Very tenderly, I lower my lips to hers, and she melts against me. The real world awaits, so I force myself to keep the kiss innocent and sweet.

  “Can I see you tonight?” I ask hopefully.

  “I’d love to, but I know I’m going to have to work late.”

  “I don’t care.”

  Skye smiles. “Why don’t I text you when I get home? Maybe we can grab a late dinner or something.”

  “Perfect.”

>   Skye heads to the shower while I make a quick breakfast for both of us. Nothing fancy . . . just eggs and toast. I’m not really hungry, but I need something to distract me from the mental image of Skye’s naked body standing in a shower just down the hall.

  When she enters the kitchen half an hour later, she’s wearing a black skirt and green blouse. She’s stunning, naturally, but it’s the height of her heels that makes me almost drop the frying pan onto the floor.

  My breath hitches. “Wow.”

  She grins. “You like?”

  “I love.”

  “Thanks.” She peeks over my shoulder. “You didn’t have to cook, but it smells great.”

  “I hope you like them scrambled. Eggs and toast are literally the only things I know how to make.”

  She laughs and grabs juice out of the fridge before joining me at the table.

  “What time do you have to be at school?”

  I stare at my plate. “I uh . . . took the day off. I have some things I have to take care of today.”

  “That appointment you wish you could forget?”

  “That’d be the one.”

  “Maybe it won’t be so bad.”

  I smile sadly and force myself to take a bite of toast.

  Breakfast ends far too soon, and Skye thanks me for cooking before leaping up and placing her empty plate in the sink.

  “I hate to eat and run,” she says, “but I have a staff meeting at eight.”

  “No problem. I need to head home and get showered, anyway.”

  As we walk out of her apartment and into the bright Nashville morning, I’m once again amazed by just how right this feels, how amazing she is, and what a jerk I am.

  “I’ll talk to you tonight,” Skye says.

  She’s about to climb into her car when I pull her close to me. I can’t resist kissing her, just one last time. Pressing her against the door, I pour every ounce of emotion into this one kiss that will have to satisfy us until we see each other later tonight. Who knows what might happen today, so I’m determined to enjoy this—and her—for just a moment longer.

  “See you later,” I whisper against her lips.

  Skye sighs softly and squeezes my hand before climbing into her car and driving away.