Shades of Pink

by 33 authors

  “And you too Danny.... I’m glad you’re getting all you ever dreamed of.”

  Closing the door behind me I could have sworn I had heard him say ‘Not everything.’

  So after a very long night of catching up with Helen, I found myself promising to be maid of honour at her wedding and I returned to Dublin. The article appeared in the following issue of Rockit!, and did indeed make me a household name. I got a promotion and Love and Other Silly Emotions went to number one in both the UK and Ireland. I’d like to think that me threatening readers to go out and buy the album for fear that the Biebers and One directions of our time would rule the world helped, but who was I kidding. It was all about the music.

  I kept my promise and stayed in contact with Helen as the band toured and I got the opportunity to interview some of my music idols. Our dreams were coming true even if our lives had not turned out exactly as we planned. I immersed myself in work and did not have time to date. According to Helen neither did Danny. Married to his music as always.

  When the band began to slow down touring Helen informed me that once the current tour was finished, the wedding plans would begin because she had a year to get Gary down the aisle before Danny marched them all back into the studio to record. The date was set for a summer wedding in a castle in Ireland where it would be riddled in paparazzi and screaming fans mourning the loss of Gary to Helen and hoping to catch a glimpse of the rest of the band.

  I have to admit after our last encounter, I was the one with butterflies in my stomach. We would be in the same room for a whole day with no way to escape. Once hen and kitchen parties and all the jazz were over, the day arrived and for once the Irish weather was in our favour.

  To say Helen looked beautiful would only do her an injustice. Her long blonde hair was gathered loosely in a mass of curls. Her dress was an ivory, skin-tight number that was elegant and classy while being exactly what you would expect Helen to wear on her wedding day. I suppose our bridesmaid dresses weren’t all bad, that is if you like pink.

  And Danny, having lost his trademark ripped jeans and statement tees, looked dashing in his tailored suit. I had never seen him this spruced up and smiled as he adjusted his tie seemingly as if he was as uncomfortable as I was. He caught me looking and gave me a brief smile before turning back to Gary. Maybe we could make it through the day.... just maybe.

  The ceremony flew by in a wave of tears and laughter mostly due to the fact that when you get all those boys together in one room, there is no way you can stop them from having a mess. Pictures followed the ceremony and then it was on to the meal. I had yet to talk to Danny and I had decided to finally grow a pair and make the first move. I needed him to know why I left and that I understood if he hated me for it.

  We all stood and clapped as the bride and groom took to the floor for their first dance. I watched my best friend gaze lovingly into her husband’s eyes and even though I was over the moon for her, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy that it would never be me and the man I still loved out there, having our first dance. I had become so engrossed in the happy couple that I never heard someone come to stand by my side.

  I looked up to see Danny staring down at me with his hand outstretched as he asked me to dance. I gingerly took his hand as he led me to the dance floor. We didn’t say a word as we swayed to the music. I will admit it felt so good to be in his arms once again and I knew in that instant that I would never love anybody else as much as I loved Danny.

  When he pulled me in closer I went with it, resting my head in the curve if his shoulder like I did when we were teens. I shivered when he brushed his lips against my forehead. I felt like I couldn’t breathe or close my eyes for fear that when I opened them again it would all be a dream.

  “I’m so sorry.” The words left my mouth before my brain could stop me.

  Danny raised my head up so I could see his face as he replied. “You do not have anything to be sorry for Niamh. You did what you thought was right. But you just made us spend the last decade without each other. You and me, we were supposed to be forever.”

  I went to push away from him but Danny just held me tighter as he growled. “No Niamh, you do not get to run away again. I never stopped thinking about you. When you walked into the room to interview us I couldn’t say a fucking thing, because I all I wanted to do was drag you from the room and do things to you that would make you never leave me again. I’d give it all up to go back and spend the last few years with you.”

  “Danny, I never stopped loving you but I wouldn’t change anything. You had the career you always wanted because your words needed to be heard. If all we have is those memories of lazy summers driving round Ireland, then I can be content with that.” A tear betrayed my composure as it trickled down my cheek.

  Realising we were attracting an audience, Danny dragged me off the dance floor and away from prying eyes. Once the door was closed he gently pushed me against the wall and ran his fingers through my hair. His breath was warm against my skin as he leaned in. His mouth met mine and his kiss sent delicious waves of heat through my body.

  Gasping as we pulled apart he smiled one of those rare Danny smiles. “God, I’ve been wanting to do that all night Niamh. Please tell me it’s not all in my head, that you want this too.”

  All I could do was nod before his lips captured mine again and we stumbled into the lift, trying to at least keep our clothes on until we got to his room. Years of denial and lust threatened to implode as Danny opened the door and pulled me inside. He watched from the open door as I unzipped and stepped out of the pink dress. I sat back on the bed and crooked a finger at my rock star and braced myself as he kicked the door closed with one foot and we were alone.

  Now there are just some things a girl needs to keep to herself, so I will not share with you an x-rated version of my night. Let’s just say a good time was had by all. I was surprised that I didn’t feel awkward in the morning as I lay on my side and watched Danny sleep. I suppose I just feared that after the heat of the moment, Danny would remember what I had done and leave me this time.

  Danny stirred in his sleep, opening his eyes as he pulled me in for another melting kiss. If I was to be hit by a bus in the next few minutes then I could die a happy girl. We curled up together in bed, discussing the future like we once had and promised to make it work this time.

  And that’s what we did. Sharon agreed that I could e-mail my articles in and travel for interviews from London. I relocated and spent another lazy summer with the band and Helen. It was as if the past couple of years had evaporated and now my life was complete. The band’s second album came out a few months later and Whispering Wolves were slated to make an impact in America the coming year.

  Oh and before I finish my story I suppose there is just one unanswered question, and I hope this answers it for you.

  At the last festival of the summer, Whispering Wolves got to play the main stage. I stood on the sidelines with a very heavily pregnant Helen as our boys brought down the house. As Gary and Danny took to the stage to sing ‘Nothing lasts forever’, Helen poked me to attention as Danny spoke into the mike.

  “By now you guys all know that this next song was written for a remarkable woman who broke my heart and ended up putting it back together again. A few years ago she let me go so Whispering Wolves could be unleashed on the world. Without her, I would not be on stage now. When Gaz here got married last year, it knocked some sense into me and now that I have her back again, I have no intentions of letting her go, ever. So if she’ll have me, I intend to marry her .... what do you guys thinks she should do?”

  A resounding chorus of “Say yes” rocked the crowd and I just stood there planted to the spot. Helen nudged me forward so that I now stood on stage. And as flashbulbs blurred my vision, Danny smiled into the mike and said. “So, what do you say Niamh?”

  And do you even have to ask what my answer was ...really? :-)

  ~~~

  Susan Harris is a writer from Cork,
Ireland. Her debut novel, Another Way to Bleed, the first in her Midnight Assassin series, was re-released in July and the second, Blood Stained Vengeance is due out later this year. She primarily writes paranormal or fantasy as well as poetry but is more than willing to step outside her comfort zone for a great cause. https://www.facebook.com/pages/Susan-Harris-Author/469637149744585

  THE PINK RIBBON

  Sarah Daltry

  "The Pink Ribbon" is short and sweet romance about the moments that we remember—and the joy of second chances. Cam and Jessica meet as teens one summer night on vacation. Twenty years separates them, but is there hope that the spark was never extinguished?

  ~~~

  PART I:

  Cam, Summer 1993

  There is nothing worse than flying across the country to spend three weeks in a tiny ass beach town with your family. Especially when your family includes your parents, who pretty much hate each other, and your older sister, who is too depressed about being away from her boyfriend during their last summer before college to be of any use to you. It takes a world record of six days before everyone decides it’s just easier to spend the rest of the vacation by themselves. This leaves me to wander the boardwalk every night, for no reason other than that the cottage we’re renting is way too small for the overlying dislike we all feel towards one another.

  Dad gave me twenty dollars tonight to stay out for the whole evening. We’re leaving tomorrow; Becca flew home a few days ago because she has orientation right after we get back. I think my parents are going to attempt to salvage their marriage, but it’s a pointless exercise. They’ve been “attempting” since I was born. I don’t know what to do with myself, so I wander toward Lehrmann’s, the local ice cream stand that claims it’s “world famous,” although it has a lot more to do with the fact that they are the only ice cream stand for this entire stretch of the Atlantic rather than with the quality of their ice cream.

  The lines, as always, are unnecessary. It’s just ice cream. I’m tempted to leave as well, but I want to stay gone for as long as I can. So I wait, being corralled like an animal through the bottleneck until I reach the window an eternity later. I’m not even hungry, but that doesn’t stop me from ordering.

  “A double scoop of Maple Walnut on a sugar cone,” I say. My voice, however, has a weird echo and I look to my right. Standing beside me is a girl around my age, who just ordered the exact same thing that I did.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she says. It isn’t quite night yet; instead, it’s that odd in between time when it feels dark and it becomes hard to see. The flickering fluorescent light overhead crackles and I take her in. Her reddish blonde hair is tied back, revealing awkwardly large ears. Freckles have exploded over her face from the summer sun. She doesn’t make eye contact with me and bites her lip, looking down at the sticky residue of way too many children’s lost ice cream cones. Her toes wiggle in her flip-flops and she uses the edge of one sandal to dig a sprinkle free from its gelatinous prison; it’s meaningless since it now just rests sadly on the concrete. No one is going to pick it up, and clearly, Lehrmann’s has no plans to wash down the walkway. I’m fifteen and I’ve never been in love, but in this strange moment, I want to be.

  “No, it’s fine. Here, let me buy yours,” I offer and turn back to the annoyed kid working the window and reorder two double scoops of Maple Walnut on sugar cones. He rolls his eyes and heads off. I suppose I would act the same if I had to deal with this crap every night.

  “Jessica,” she says. “I mean, I’m Jessica.” She’s still biting her lip and she goes to tuck her hair behind her ear, although it was already back there. This results in a weird, jerky movement that ends with her giving up and pretending it didn’t happen. She smiles, embarrassed, but I just think it’s adorable.

  “Cam. So, Maple Walnut?”

  Her smile brightens, but then disappears. “Yeah, I know. Everyone says it’s for old people, but it’s just—”

  “So good,” we say at the same time.

  “I know. Maybe old people have good taste. Who wants bubble gum or Snickers? You can get that without getting ice cream,” I say.

  “Right? This is my favorite part of coming up here every summer—eating Maple Walnut in peace.” She starts to laugh. “That’s so stupid, isn’t it?”

  “I’m from the Midwest. Do you understand that Maple Walnut is like gold out there?”

  “Really? Not in Vermont. We put maple in everything.”

  The kid returns with our ice cream, which is already melting, and I pay him before handing Jessica her cone. Neither of us moves and I’m not sure what to do next. I don’t have a lot of experience with girls.

  “Are you… I mean, do you want to go for a walk?” I ask.

  “Yeah. Let me just go tell my parents. I’ll meet you over there?” She points toward the amusement park entrance. The glaring lights of the park make the beach look eerie. I realize I don’t have enough money to pay for us both to go to the park and hope she won’t mind.

  I walk over to the entrance. The sounds of screaming kids, metal scraping against metal, the dinging and buzzing of games, and the natural rumble of crowds reach over the fence from the park. I start to eat my ice cream and wait for Jessica. I really hope she can stay and talk for a while. She doesn’t make me wait long. She moves down the beach, her flip-flops making her walking uneven as she licks her ice cream cone. The melted Maple Walnut is starting to spill over her hands, but she seems unconcerned.

  “I don’t know if I have enough for the park,” I say, mentally kicking myself. Inexperience aside, I can guarantee that line isn’t going to work in my favor.

  “Oh, that’s okay. It’s too loud. Let’s go down to the water.”

  We don’t talk as we make our way to the shore, each of us eating and trying to keep the ice cream from melting faster than we can consume it. I’m almost done with mine, but Jessica’s cone is winning. She looks down at it, then grabs the top scoop and tosses it into the ocean.

  “I always do this. I order them, but I’ve never finished a double. They melt too fast.”

  “That’s an interesting technique,” I say, looking at the remains of the ice cream as it merges forever with the salty sea.

  “You should know, Cam, I’m not the kind of girl who does this.”

  “Does what? What are we doing?”

  “It’s just—I don’t meet boys at ice cream stands and trick them into buying me ice cream every week.”

  “So you tricked me?” I laugh. Her eyes crease a little when she starts to laugh as well. This girl—she’s nothing like the girls I know back home. It isn’t even something I can place, but I like her awkwardness, the way she isn’t trying to impress me, her utter disregard for all things that other girls usually do.

  “If you want to kiss me, I wouldn’t mind,” she says. That’s definitely not what other girls do. Her mouth is still covered with ice cream and I debate. I’ve never kissed a girl before. She is both shy and aggressive, and I’m afraid to do it wrong. I finish the last bite of my cone and look at hers, dripping down her hand and arm and into the sand. She shrugs and tosses it behind her on the beach. Some seagulls are going to be really happy.

  Despite having never done this before, it feels completely natural when I lean closer to her. She drags herself along the sand and soon, our faces are right next to each other. I breathe deep, shut my eyes, and close the gap.

  * * *

  PART II:

  Jessica, Summer 1993

  His lips are sticky and taste like Maple Walnut. His tongue tests my lips and slides into my mouth. I don’t think he’s ever done this before, but it’s cute that he hasn’t. I shift the last few inches and wrap my arms around his neck. I’m not all that experienced myself, outside of that one party Amanda had where we all played Spin the Bottle. However, I want to kiss him and my parents are only giving me thirty minutes. There is no time for playing hard to get.

  Cam lets out a soft moan against my lips and I tingle througho
ut my body. Kissing Frank Amonte in Amanda’s basement was nothing like this; that involved a lot of uncomfortable pawing and his tongue licking back and forth across my bottom lip. Cam’s tongue, however, is soft and he is nervous. I touch the tip of my tongue to his and he pulls me closer. His hands reach into my hair and I feel the ribbon my mom made me wear loosen. It lands in the sand and my hair slides down around my face. Suddenly, Cam and I are wrapped in a blanket of my hair and he’s kissing me with the same excitement he had for his ice cream cone.

  I’m flustered when we separate, but it’s a nice feeling—like little butterflies are dancing along my skin.

  “Was that okay?” He asks.

  I smile. “Perfect.”

  “I’ve never… You’re the first girl… I mean…,” he stutters.

  “Good. I like having the honor,” I say. Back home I’m a loser, but here on this beach tonight, Cam looks at me as if I’m a vixen, some sexy goddess who has descended to Earth to give him his first kiss. As innocent as I am, I like being looked at that way.

  “I have to go home tomorrow,” he says, growing sad.

  “I figured. If not tomorrow, sooner or later.”

  “Give me your address. I’ll write you,” he promises.

  “No. That’s silly. I’m sixteen and we live across the country from one another. Let’s just be happy that someone else out there likes Maple Walnut.”

  “And kissing.”

  “And kissing,” I agree.

  “Jessica, I want to write to you.”

  I think about it, but I know what will happen. He’ll fly home and next week, my family will go back to our small town. I’ll tell Amanda all about him, since she’s my only friend, and then she will tell everyone because she can’t help it. Soon, the whole school will tease me about my “boyfriend” they claim isn’t real; I’ll try to argue that he just lives in another state. Then, a letter will come from him and I will walk into school, proud of it, showing them that Cam is real. By the end of the year though, the letters will stop, because he will go back to his own life—and I will go back to being the weird girl. Except now, I’ll be the weird girl who can’t even find a boyfriend in her own state and whose letters stopped coming.