That was the plan, way back then. I’d take the photos, he’d write about them, and we’d publish books about our adventures around the world.
It could have been so epic.
But then I destroyed it.
For his own security.
I wanted so badly to explain that to him, but I couldn’t. How did I admit what had happened? The repercussions were huge, and so destructive.
No, I’d done the right thing. I just wished that it felt like I’d done the right thing. Because as I sat there in that car, listening to his sad voice and enduring the sad conversation that basically implied neither of us were doing what we wanted with our lives…I had to wonder if I’d made a huge mistake.
As if to amplify my doubts, “Break Me Down” popped up on my playlist.
The only words I could hear throughout the entire song were “I’m yours.”
It hurt because it was true.
I was Nixon’s. I always would be.
I’d never wanted any other boyfriend. Even though Chix never officially dated, we had both wanted to. That summer proved it. We finally overcame our fears of ruining our friendship.
But then I had to walk away.
And I’d never moved on.
I’d tried—gone on a bunch of different dates, but I could never make it anything more than a night of fun. If my date got too handsy or serious I’d back away in a flash. No guy had ever compared to Nixon. We’d had depth that no one could match.
So I kept it light and if a guy ever tried to fall in love with me, I’d cut him off or move away.
That’s what you’re so good at, right?
Running away.
The thought was dark and brutal.
Crossing my arms, I rested my boots on the dash and glared out the window.
I didn’t need a stupid boyfriend to make me happy.
Stealing a glimpse at Nixon’s handsome face, I knew that was total bullshit.
I mean, I was happy. But I was smart enough to know that being with Nixon always made me happier.
The thought that maybe he’d moved on and found joy with someone else shot through me. It was like a freaking speargun to the chest, and I didn’t want to know.
But then Fliss’s warnings echoed in the back of my mind and I was compelled to blurt, “You dating anyone?”
Nixon stilled, then gave me a quick glance. “Yeah. I am.”
The words were acid in my ears but I forced a smile. “Is it serious?”
“It could be heading that way, yeah.” His jaw worked to the side, his eyes trained on the road ahead.
I didn’t know what to say. I figured screaming “How the hell could you move on when I haven’t stopped loving you for one second?” wouldn’t fly, so I swallowed the glass shards in my throat and murmured, “Good on you, man. She pretty?”
“Yeah.” His lips twitched with a smile.
“What does she do?”
“She’s in human resources. She got an assistant’s job last year and is working towards a managerial role.”
“Wow. Cool.” I bobbed my head, kind of lost for words. Human resources? A manager? That didn’t seem like Nixon’s type.
Because it wasn’t like me at all.
I’d go out of my mind working in an office job like that.
I squeezed my eyes shut and turned away from Nix.
Was I seriously arrogant enough to think I’d be the only girl he’d ever like?
Disappointment spiked through me. He’d moved on. He had a freaking human resources girlfriend who no doubt wore heels and fitted skirts with matching jackets—the exact opposite of me.
Hurt wasn’t a big enough word to describe what was happening to my heart.
But anger overrode the emotion.
What had I expected?
I’d left him with no explanation. Of course he was going to fucking move on!
“You?”
I jerked at Nixon’s question and spun back to face him. “Me what?”
“Do you have a boyfriend?” His voice was deep and thick, his Adam’s apple sticking out when he swallowed.
I bobbed my head before I could stop myself. I didn’t know why I did that. Maybe I wanted to save face, I’m not sure. But I did. I lied.
“Yeah. I mean, sort of.” I captured one of my blue curls and wound it around my pinky finger. “It’s been a bit on again, off again. We’re currently on a breather, but who knows, I’ll probably end up marrying the guy.” I laughed and pinched my lower lip, looking out my window so I didn’t have to see Nixon’s face.
He was probably happy for me, dammit!
He’d moved on.
He had a girlfriend.
A beautiful one who made him smile. She no doubt had perfect legs and perky little breasts that meant she could wear anything and look smoking hot.
Once again, I crossed my arms over my chest and looked out the window.
I never should have suggested the road trip. It was a terrible idea.
But I couldn’t blurt out the fact that I wanted to travel across the country with him to try and recreate what we’d had that summer.
The thought made me still.
Really? Is that really what I’m trying to do?
Make amends and go back to where we never should have left off?
Grinding my teeth together, I kept my eyes trained on the scenery flashing past.
You’re a hopeless dreamer, Chuck.
Nixon had a girlfriend.
My eyes burned.
She was waiting for him in LA.
Shit, I thought he’d been worried about his parents, but it was no doubt his girlfriend he’d been texting.
She better be damn amazing.
And she better treat Nixon like a fucking king.
My nostrils flared, my jaw trembling as I fought the emotion inside of me.
If I didn’t do something soon, I was going to explode.
Thankfully music saved my ass like it always did.
The guitar riff for “Raise Your Glass” came on and I rushed for the volume, cranking it up and throwing all my emotion into singing.
Nixon cracked up—a loud, surprising burst of sound.
I whipped around to look at him. His smile was so damn adorable. “What’s so funny?”
“Do you remember that time you performed this at the school karaoke competition?”
A hot memory flashed through my mind and I couldn’t help a sheepish grin.
“I thought Principal Maclean was gonna burst a blood vessel. You got the entire school up and dancing like crazy people. It was fantastic.” He shook his head, quietly snickering like he loved my antics.
He was the only one who ever had.
Which was why I’d always be his.
Because he was the guy who’d put up with my shit and still love me at the end of the day.
I lurched for my phone and skipped back to the beginning, needing to throw myself into an uninterrupted performance. I needed some way to release the pressure inside.
Pumping up the volume a few more notches, I went for it, banging my head and singing the words at the top of my lungs.
And Nixon joined me.
Because we were Chix.
Chapter Nine
Nixon
She was so wild.
Watching her blue hair fly out the window as she leaned out and sang “Raise Your Glass” to the passing traffic made something in my chest pop. An explosion of affection that I only ever felt around her.
Sometimes she reminded me of Reagan—all happiness and sunshine.
But she had a sweetness that Reagan lacked. My sister was set on beating the world, proving that nothing could best her. She was a feisty adrenaline junkie.
But Charlie…she just wanted to have fun. No conflict. No tears. Just good times and laughter.
She was an escape from my mundane life.
I’d been convinced she was my ticket out.
But I’d been wrong.
My throat s
welled and I stopped singing, focusing back on the road and my journey home. I had what I needed waiting for me in LA. Shayna had to remain my focus.
Pressing the gas, I pushed a little over the speed limit and kept powering forward.
The rest of the day was used up with singing and harmless conversation. We talked a lot about music—the new stuff we liked, bands we’d been listening to. Her taste was still as varied as always. She took me through her different playlists and when we compared, we had basically all the same music between us.
The hours ticked by while I learned more about photography and how to capture the best light. We did a few miles of selfies, her making me laugh while I drove.
She asked me about college but I brushed over as much as I could. It was so boring compared to everything she said. I didn’t want to dull the moment.
I didn’t really get talking until the conversation veered toward books and I was able to go on about the only escape I had left in my life. I read every night before I slept. It was the only way I could tune out and relax.
Charlie listened with interest, her nose wrinkling and her smile growing as I described all the different places I’d been in my imagination.
We then started creating a story of our own, bouncing one crazy idea off another until we were cracking up with laughter over the young executive who had somehow found himself lost in the Amazon rainforest with nothing more than an umbrella and a briefcase containing a mysterious red bra.
Charlie’s laughter floated around me and we both stopped talking for a while, giggling to ourselves as we no doubt pictured the same image.
The conversation eased off and we cruised along to the music. It wasn’t awkward. If anything, it was like lying down on a bed of soft pillows—comfortable and easy.
It was nearly supper time when we drove into Lexington, Kentucky. I was happy to keep going, but Charlie was driving and she pulled into the first motel we passed.
Cutting the engine, she turned to me and said, “I’m done. I know we could probably keep going, but here looks good. We can grab a pizza, watch a movie, and sleep in a decent bed.”
“Well, a bed anyway,” I snickered, looking at the motel with its flickering neon sign. It wasn’t dark enough to hide the dirty plaster or chipped paint around the window frames.
“It’ll do,” Charlie muttered, pushing the door open.
Pulling out my phone, I sent an update text to Shayna. In the call we’d had over lunchtime, she made me promise to keep her posted on my progress. She was actually taking the road trip thing really well. I’d even told her I was traveling with an old high school buddy and she thought it was great…probably because she didn’t realize Chuck was actually a girl.
I winced as I punched Send, guilt niggling my insides. I hadn’t exactly lied. People did call Charlie “Chuck” sometimes. Shayna had made the gender assumption on her own. And she seriously had nothing to worry about. Charlie and I were barely friends anymore. This was just a final send-off. Kind of like a mini high school reunion.
Grabbing my bag, I followed Charlie into reception and was greeted by a short lady with wrinkled chain-smoker lips and bright red hair.
“How y’all doin’?” Her voice was bored and monotone. She really didn’t give a shit how we were doing.
Charlie put on an extra bright grin and leaned against the counter. “Great, thanks. Can we grab a room, please?”
“Two.” I raised two fingers and stepped up to the counter.
“Two?” Charlie made a face. “It’ll be so much cheaper if we share.”
“It’ll be so inappropriate if we do.”
Resting her fist on her hip, she gave me a dry glare. “I’m not planning on jumping your bones, if that makes you feel better.” She turned to the receptionist and huffed. “Can we just have a room with two beds, please?”
The woman pursed her lips, our argument obviously entertaining her. She looked between us, the edge of her mouth twitching. I clenched my jaw and didn’t put up a fight when Charlie dropped her credit card down for a deposit on the room and started filling in the little form.
The receptionist handed me a key and I took it with a tight smile.
The room was up the stairs and to the right. Charlie didn’t say much as I unlocked the door. My heart was thumping double time when we stepped into the musty room.
The bed covers were floral, the carpet stained beige. An ancient-looking TV sat in the corner and there was a tear in the sheer curtains covering the windows. I flicked on the light, then closed the thin drapes. I’d never liked that fishbowl effect, and I wasn’t keen on the passing traffic looking in through our window.
Charlie dumped her bag on the bed next to the bathroom and smiled at me. “This isn’t too bad. It doesn’t feel like one of those rent-by-the-hour places, anyway.” She wiggled her eyebrows, then turned to look in the bathroom. “Let’s hope the shower’s okay.”
I nodded while she unzipped her bag. The first thing she pulled out was her phone. She got some music playing and set it down on the bedside cabinet. “Dreaming Alone” gently played in the background while she hunted for more stuff. She flung a pair of blue pajama pants with bright orange stars over her shoulder, then hugged her toiletry bag to her chest.
“Once I’m clean, we should order a pizza and play cards or something. You know…” She shrugged. “For old time’s sake.”
I caught her eye and we both stilled.
It was an awkward moment.
Cards.
The music playing on her phone.
It took me back to Yosemite.
The song somehow crescendoed, swirling around me until I was lost in a fog of memories that made it hurt to breathe.
Charlie’s wide eyes glassed over and I knew she was back there too.
Sitting cross-legged in a tent playing a noisy game of Crazy Eights.
“You’re cheating.” I pointed at her.
“No, I’m not.” She laughed, placing down the Jack of Spades. “You’re just a sore loser.”
I snickered and shook my head. “Cheater.”
“Loser.”
“Cheater!”
“Loser!”
Her eyes were dancing, brighter than they had that morning when we stood at the top of Yosemite Falls and looked at the stunning view. The green trees were vibrant against the gray rocks, the contrast breathtaking. Charlie had snapped a zillion photos, going on about how beautiful the national park was.
I just sat on a rock and watched her, love growing in my chest like an ever-expanding bubble.
And there she was sitting across from me, cheating at cards, and never looking more gorgeous.
Her laughter swam around me, blending with the music—“She Moves In Her Own Way.” It was the perfect song for her. My best friend. Miss Unique. The girl I wanted to claim as mine. The girl I’d never had the courage to admit the truth to.
What if it screwed up our friendship?
What if we could never get back to our awesomeness?
She giggled, pressing her cards against her nose and wiggling her eyebrows at me.
“So cheating.” I lurched forward, grabbing her wrist as she let out a delighted squawk.
She tried to wrestle free, but there was no way I was letting her go without checking her cards. She yelped and giggled, wriggling like a fish. I laughed and pushed her back onto the airbed on her side of the tent. She tried to roll away from me but I spun her onto her back, nestling myself between her legs so she couldn’t move.
Snatching her other wrist, I held it above her head to ease her struggle, and then everything suddenly stopped moving.
The cards in her hand became the furthest thing from my mind.
All I could see were her hazel eyes.
They gazed up at me and I forgot how to breathe.
Her face was so close.
The wisp of her breath on my skin was fairy dust.
It worked a spell, broke the chains that had been holding me back.
/> Two years of pining came rushing into that one moment and I pressed my mouth to hers before I could stop myself.
Her lips were soft and pliable, her mouth tasting just as I imagined it—sweet like a peach.
It hit me then…what I was doing.
Kissing Charlie.
I was kissing my best friend.
I pulled back, aware of the line I’d just crossed.
My eyes must have been bugging out big time, and I couldn’t read the expression on her face.
She just stared at me, shell-shocked. The cards dropped from her fingers.
I let go of her wrists, my heavy breathing making it impossible to apologize. I couldn’t get the words out. I didn’t know how to fix it.
But just as I started to lift myself off her, she grabbed my shirt and pulled me back down.
Her mouth was strong and determined, taking mine with a passion that gave away how much she wanted it.
I couldn’t believe it.
She was into me.
That couldn’t be possible. It made me hesitate until she opened her mouth and started frantically searching for my tongue. I met her halfway and we got caught in a pocket of heat and flavor.
Her tongue was the best thing I’d ever tasted.
Her body was the best thing I’d ever touched.
I had to feel it. Explore it. My hands moved without me even knowing. I delved into her riotous hair first, thick locks of beauty that I could wrap my fingers around. But then I wanted more.
My hand glided down her side, searching for an opening, a chance to touch her skin.
It was smooth perfection. The shape, the texture. I wanted to memorize every inch of it.
She shifted beneath me, weaving her arm around my shoulders and fisting my shirt. Her sweet moan ignited the fire I’d been trying to deny myself. It gave me the courage to try to unhook her bra. Turned out to be a bigger mission than I thought.
But then she laughed and helped me out.
Her eyes were diamonds as she slowly lifted her shirt and made herself vulnerable to me. I gazed at her breasts, tracing the shape with the pads of my fingers. With a nervous titter, she bit her bottom lip and I whispered the truth. “They’re perfect. Not too big. Not too small.” I grinned, palming her right breast and giving it a gentle squeeze. “The perfect fit for me.”
Rather Be (A Songbird Novel) Page 5
