Ten Days of Perfect (November Blue)

by Andrea Randall

  “There you guys are. How’s the air outside?” Josh raised an eyebrow in my direction, causing me to subtly shake my head to erase whatever inappropriate thoughts he may have had.

  “Great breeze right now,” Bo replied.

  “Another perfect May day,” I interjected, “Where are Callie and Sarah?”

  “They headed home. It’s just us four. Let’s grab that open table.” Monica headed to the back of the pub where a lone booth sat waiting for us. She slid in and patted her hand on the cushion next to her, looking at me. I slid in, which gave me full-view of Bo Cavanaugh.

  Over the next two hours we sat and talked about music and beer. Josh told Monica and I about the first set he saw Bo play; he had nearly fist-pumped the air when Bo played an Indigo Girls song, because he knew Monica and I would love him. Josh bragged about Monica and I to Bo, telling him about Princeton, while we rolled our eyes in unison. Bo told us he grew up in central New Hampshire and played in a local bar at home nearly every weekend. All the while, our feet were intertwined under the table and I caught him stealing lingering glances at me as he spoke.

  At closing time, Monica decided she was going to stick around and wait for Josh to lock up. I hugged them both and thanked Josh again for the awesomeness that was Bo Cavanaugh.

  “Can I walk you to your car, Ember?” Bo climbed out of the booth and raised his arms overhead as he stretched his neck side to side.

  “That’d be great,” Monica cut in, “Em saw some brawl near her house the other day. . .”

  “Monica! It was nothing, and it was nearly a week ago. Would you let it go?” I drew my eyebrows together. Monica had been overly curious about the ‘handsome stranger’, as she named him, and spent the entire week pushing me for details that I didn’t have.

  Bo stiffened and his eyes curtained with darkness, “What do you mean brawl? Did you get hurt?” The way his voice hung on “hurt” ignited something in me. His husky incantation beckoned my primal senses, and the hair on the back of my neck stood at attention.

  “God, please, don’t worry about it. It was too dark to see anything - I was just in the neighborhood. And it wasn’t really near my house.” I forced a smile and put my hand on his lower back as I glared at Monica. “Night Josh, night Mon.”

  Josh waved goodbye while Monica held her pinky and thumb to her face, indicating that she wanted details about Bo Cavanaugh. As we exited Finnegan’s, Bo once again held the door for me. When I walked by him, I instinctually hooked my arm around his waist and liked the fit. He paused for a second and looked at me with an unreadable expression. He turned and continued walking beside me, wrapping his arm comfortably around my shoulders.

  “I didn’t think this was a violent town. Where did this brawl happen exactly?” Bo said, scanning the parking lot.

  “It’s not. It just happened a couple blocks from where I live and it’s really not a big deal. I think Monica’s jealous she missed out on some action.” I’d tried to lighten the mood but he didn’t bite.

  The moment was sliding through my fingers and I decided to take action. When we got to my car, I leaned my shoulder against it, and he copied my stance. Our hips were almost touching as I ran my thumb across the collar of his leather jacket.

  “I had a great time tonight,” I said, “listening to you play, singing with you, talking with you…” I trailed off as I breathed in closer to him; now our hips were touching. His height forced me to tilt my chin up to meet his eyes. Our lips were closer now, and I felt my heart beating in mine.

  “The pleasure was all mine, November.” Wow, November slid off of his tongue like nectar. He studied my eyes carefully as his hand cradled the back of my neck.

  I tugged with little subtlety, telling him it was OK. I wanted his beautifully talented lips to touch mine, but he seemed to hesitate. Bo glided his hand away from my neck, down my arm, and paused at the hand I had on his collar. He interlaced his fingers with mine, and a ghost of a grin laced his lips before he slid my arm down his body, resting it on the top of his hips. He released my hand and held my face, staring at me in what can only be described as baffled wonder.

  “You’re incredibly beautiful, November Blue. And so talented. . .” his voice trailed off as he brushed an errant strand of hair away from my eyes.

  No guy - or really anyone besides my parents - ever called me November Blue and it sounded so passionate coming from his mouth.

  I swallowed so hard I was sure he could hear it. The moment swayed between us, asking who would go first. The current he sent through me was visible in his eyes. I couldn’t take any more. I stole his hands from my face and forced them to my hips as I hungrily pulled his mouth to mine. Every thought and feeling I had about him over the last several hours exploded through my mouth and tongue as I searched his. This was no ordinary first kiss - it was deeper than any first kiss had ever been in the history of kisses.

  His music, his guitar, his singing, his eyes - it was all burning through me as I moaned between his parted lips and tightened my fingers through his hair. He released hot, lust-filled air into my mouth as his fingertips slipped inside my back pockets. My anxious hands raked down his sides; when my thumbs found his belt loops, they held on for dear life. The world was vacant outside of us in that moment. His heart drummed through his thin shirt, its cadence matching mine.

  I forced myself to take a deep breath before pulling my mouth from his. I placed one final soft kiss on his lips.

  “Wh-why’d you stop?” he stuttered, searching my face for answers.

  Because you completely disarmed me.

  “Will you be here tomorrow?” I coyly smiled. I knew he would be; I’d already asked Josh.

  “Uh . . . yea, I’ll be playing a set tomorrow.” He seemed shaken, and I liked that.

  His hands remained on my hips, mine thumbs in his belt loops.

  “K, I’ll see you here tomorrow,” I said as I removed my thumbs and grazed them across his tight stomach, “you better get back inside to get your stuff.”

  He let out a chuckle as he gave my hips a tight squeeze and placed a kiss just under my ear lobe. Why, yes, dessert sounds great. . .

  “See you tomorrow, Ember.” He turned and shuffled back to Finnegan’s with his hands in his pockets as I balanced myself against my car.

  I listened to “Heaven When We’re Home” twice on the way home from Finnegan’s, and once in front of my apartment. Each time the intro filled my car, my body craved Bo Cavanaugh. I floated up the stairs and poured myself into bed, where I drifted off to the most relaxing sleep I’d had in nights. I woke with a smile on my face and the lingering memory of his kiss on my lips.

  Chapter Four

  I’d forgotten to text Monica when I got home. That was a mistake. My post-first-kiss-smile faded as I saw roughly fifteen “are you ok?!” texts from her on my phone. I called her immediately, lest she send the police knocking.

  “Mon, I’m fine. More than fine, his kiss . . .”

  “November! You may not kiss strange men in a parking lot and not let me know you got home safe!” Her tone was the only reminder I needed that I broke the best friend safety pact.

  Oops.

  “Not strange men, Monica, God. Not even strange, it was Bo . . .” his name fluttered in the air for a second before Monica continued her verbal chastising.

  “Well, anyway, spill it!” Monica’s desire for details outweighed her anger.

  “On the deck, we just talked. When we walked to my car…” I trailed off as the memory temporarily satisfied my still-hungry lips.

  “What?” Monica squealed.

  “It was just amazing, Monica. I haven’t felt that way ever. When I pulled his lips to mine . . .”

  Monica cut me off, “You initiated it? That’s so aggressive, Ember!” Her pitch was window shattering.

  “And that’s so fifties, Monica. Anyway, we were alive in it, like we’d done it a million times before. Don’t worry, I’m the one that pulled away first; wanted to leave a l
ittle appetite for tonight. I didn’t even give him my phone number.” I was proud that my parents taught me to love passionately, with responsibility.

  “Well, at least we know he won’t stalk you on Facebook,” Monica said snidely.

  “Fucking Facebook,” I snarled cynically and hung up the phone.

  After our college graduation, Adrian updated me on Facebook about life at Harvard a few times in private messages, and wanted to know if we could “catch up” on the Cape sometime (he was less than 2 hours away). I found my mind wandering to a place that had us being a hot little power couple, he as an attorney for those less fortunate, and myself managing his office and all. Adrian and I always made sense “on paper” in that way; our brains, our looks, and our determination. I quickly pushed those daydreams aside and told him that I thought it best that we got on with our lives and I deactivated my account.

  Maybe it broke his heart; I didn’t ask and he didn’t tell. I do know that we would have hurt each other in the end because, judging by all of his cute little Facebook albums, he was after girls that were pretty enough to make an impression, but dumb enough not to challenge him. Screw that.

  I spent all day cleaning and organizing my kitchen in an effort to pass the time until I would get to see Bo again. Of course, it wasn’t just the singing I was looking forward to, but I needed to keep my good-girl side appeased. I arrived at Finnegan’s by 8:00 - an hour earlier than usual - hoping to catch him before he went on stage.

  “You’re early.” Josh grinned from behind the bar.

  “Yea, thought I’d try to get a beer and a good seat if it’s supposed to be busier than last night.”

  Josh shook his head as he dried glasses; he knew I was lying.

  “Shut up, Josh. Is Monica here yet?” I laughed. I was speaking to Josh, but looking for Bo.

  “Hey, I didn’t say anything,” Josh put up his hands in defense, “it was just awesome seeing you up there last night, that’s all. Monica should be here in a few.”

  “It felt so good being up there. I want to do it again.”

  “You should think about singing here regularly.” Josh slid my pint across the bar.

  “You’re kidding,” I panned as I welcomed the cold brew into my mouth.

  “I’m not shitting you, Em. You’ve got something special goin’ on.” Josh playfully smacked my arm with the bar towel.

  “Where the hell is your girlfriend, anyway?” I teased.

  Almost on cue, Monica glided next to me and lifted herself up on the bar. She gave Josh the kind of kiss one gives to someone they’d been separated from for months. Once again (and this was a pattern a girl could get used to), I felt and smelled Bo before I saw him.

  “Hey guys!” Bo Cavanaugh looked every bit as striking as he had the night before on stage, and in my dreams. The dark jeans from last night returned, but tonight he was wearing a fitted black sleeveless shirt in response to the heat. His shoulders sat with such prominence, it was like they were guarding the rest of his body. His taught masculinity made my mouth run dry.

  “Hey, Bro. Here’s a pint on the house.” Josh was certainly a class-act. He knew he wanted Bo to play here regularly, and what better way is there to butter a guy up than with some hometown brew?

  “Thanks, Bro, I appreciate it. Ember, you wanna sing something with me tonight?” Bo touched the small of my back, but it rather lacked that little something extra that I was hoping for. He seemed a little casual after last night’s kiss. I wondered if I offered too much, too soon.

  Hell no! That was hot.

  “Sure. Did you have something in mind?” I smiled and cocked an eyebrow as I turned to face him. I ignored Josh’s snickering.

  “I’ll surprise you. Just come up when I give you the nod.” He mimicked his nod and I giggled. Giggled. God help me.

  The four of us spent the next hour sipping a beer, or two, and talked about music. I raved about Ani Difranco, Goo Goo Dolls, Patty Griffin, and the list went on. I had certainly found my musical soul mate - one who rivaled my parents even - and I could have lived on that conversation alone. Well, I could have lived on a music conversation alone, had I not kissed him. No, now that I knew what his mouth was capable of away from a microphone, I needed more.

  “K, I’m headed up,” Bo said a second after Josh tapped the mic. “See you in a few,” he whispered in my ear so closely that I thought it was meant to be a kiss, as well; his electricity overrode my system once again. As he walked away, I saw what appeared to be the top of a tattoo at the base of his neck, and made a mental note to check that out later.

  Bo started his set with some of his original work, which blew me away; Monica kept elbowing me during his songs to raise her eyebrows and widen her eyes. Josh had a proud smile on his face, shaking his head back and forth like he couldn’t believe we hadn’t heard of him until now. My insides sashayed with each note.

  My soul has always felt music deeper than my ears could ever hear it; I was involuntarily swaying to his beats. Occasionally, he’d glance up at me during his songs; it felt like musical foreplay. I always returned his smile, sometimes while casually biting my lower lip. Two could play at this game. Then he nodded in my direction, which lead me up on stage.

  “Those of you who were here last night were treated to the voice of this talented woman, November Harris.” His hand embraced my knee as he spoke, which sent me into the stratosphere. I need to get ahold of myself.

  The crowd clapped. Even if they weren’t there last night, most of them had likely heard me sing at least once before. Monica hollered and Josh whistled.

  “Thank you, Bo, but, the pleasure was all mine. How talented is he?” I asked the crowd as I clapped in to the air. They followed graciously.

  I whipped my head toward him and narrowed my eyes at his guitar while he plucked the intro to the song he wanted me to sing. My heart plummeted head-first into the wicked sea of my stomach.

  “Shit, what are you doing?!” I whisper-yelled in his ear as I covered the microphone, “ I haven’t sung Ani Difranco anywhere in public!”

  He smiled his hot half-smile and continued the intro to “Both Hands”, leaving me panicked at the thought of the unique register I’d need to reach to pull it off. What the hell was he doing?! He started the intro again since I missed my cue. His knee knocked into mine and he mouthed, “Go.” I cleared my throat and begged for feeling to return to my face.

  As I finished the first verse I reveled in how great it felt. I wondered how he knew that I would recognize that song. I guess I did mention that I liked Ani . . . He was song-flirting with me all over again. I rolled with it and had to refrain from jumping him right there on the stage when his voice joined mine. He brought a husky rock undertone to the harmony that shook my insides.

  When we finished, I exhaled with such force that it felt like I’d been holding my breath the entire song.

  “Meet me outside when you finish your set,” I breathed into his ear as the crowd applauded. And, just so he was sure, I grazed my lips across his earlobe before I headed back to the bar. I heard his breath hitch just before he cleared his throat, and a seductive smile of satisfaction concealed itself behind his microphone.

  Bo finished the rest of his set with a shade of crimson on his cheeks that suited me just fine.

  “That boy has it bad for you, Ember. What’d you do to him last night?” Josh elbowed my side.

  “Josh!” Monica slapped his arm.

  “You’d like to know, wouldn’t you Josh. I’m heading outside. Bo’s gonna meet me out there when he’s done- don’t hassle him, Josh.” I grabbed two pints and, with a wink, I headed out to sit in a chair facing the door. I wanted to see him first this time.

  The familiar applause that comes at the end of the set erupted, and within two minutes Bo was walking through the door and straight toward me with a mile-wide grin. I stood up and handed him his beer.

  “Walk with me.” I stepped through the dry grass on to the sandy beach that hugged the o
cean.

  “Can you take your beer out here?” Bo asked, faking concern for the law.

  “We’re just going right here, Officer.” I plunked down in the sand and kicked off my sandals, digging my toes into the cool earth. This effort, I’d hoped, would keep me somewhat grounded from his electrical output.

  Bo sat next to me and spilled a bit of his beer when I playfully punched him in the shoulder.

  “What kind of a dick move was that? Pulling out an Ani Difranco song, assuming I’d know it?” I tried to sound playful as I relived the initial terror of hearing him strum the song that, up until then, I’d only sung in the shower or when drunk.

  “Hey,” he said as he rocked his shoulder in to mine, “that was crazy good. I’ve never sung that song live before either.”

  Bo’s shoulder paused on mine as he placed his elbows on bent knees, dangling his pint from his long fingers. He slipped off his black Sperry’s and dragged his toes through the sand. Even his feet are sexy.

  “Still, you’re an asshole. I nearly fainted!”

  My scalp tingled as he brushed my hair aside, dancing his fingers across the back of my neck. His hands were tight, like guitar strings, and just as delicate. Despite the callused fingertips that come from years of plucking, their graze was soft and inviting.

  “Forgive me,” he chuckled as he pressed his thick, soft lips on the spot where my neck meets my shoulders.

  “K,” I sighed as I turned my lips to his.

  He grabbed my chin and turned my face away as he worked his lips from the base of my neck to my ear. Nothing inside me had recovered from the night before, but I was nearly panting for more. I felt utterly helpless as his lips grazed my ear a second time. All I could do was kiss the top of his head, which caused him to right himself and look me straight in the eyes. I leaned forward and pressed my lips into his sharp jaw line. His breath stopped for a moment as I pulled my lips away and returned them to his neck. Our pint glasses hit the sand, and he placed both hands behind my head. Once again, his eyes held mine captive.