“I get it. Believe me.” I’m feeling shy once more. “Will you show it to me someday? When the baby’s ready to spread its wings and fly?”
Our gazes lock together, our souls somehow intertwined, and I see his Adam’s apple bob and I think maybe his heart is racing as fast as mine is. He nods. “I promise you’ll be the first to hear it.”
“Good.”
Then I do something I’ve never done before—I lean in, my hands finding his shirt collar, fingers nestling into the fabric there, and I kiss him. Just a brush of lips, it starts off tentative and soft, but it grows into a wild, passionate thing. His mouth claims mine, his lips tasting of heat and chocolate, drinking me in, and my knees turn to jelly and the only thing holding me up is the cool metal of the car at my back. Fireworks shoot off behind my eyes, stunning me with their brilliance, and it’s all I can do to just hang on.
Just when I think that this is how I want to die, being suffocated by this boy, Eli breaks the kiss and pulls away. The warmth in his eyes is beautiful and I want more of him, all of him, my lips still tingling. I swallow and straighten up. “I’ll see you soon?” I manage to breathe.
He cracks a grin. “Definitely.”
He steps back and I fumble with my door before collapsing into the front seat. My body is shaking on the inside, my head spinning and dancing and my heart, oh my heart can’t decide what it wants but I shove all the bad thoughts away. I claim this moment as mine.
I did it. I kissed him and it felt right. So right.
Near-perfect symmetry.
Thirteen
Elias
I stand in the driveway like I’m cemented to the ground, like my shoes have grown roots and those roots have dug through the asphalt, burrowed down deep to the earth, to spread their arms and keep me there. I stand and watch her go, watch her rusty little Impala back out of the drive and onto the road, speeding away until all I can see is the cherries of her taillights in the distance and then, nothing.
There’s an ache deep inside me, a need sparked by our kiss that begs to be satisfied. That goodnight kiss turned into something more, something stronger than either of us could have realized, and I’m left reeling. I need more of her—God, that much is obvious. I wanted to take it farther, to gather her up in my arms and take her back inside; I wanted to touch her, warm fingers and velvet skin, to see where we might end up, but something told me to stop.
So I stopped. The last thing I want is to scare her away.
I go back inside and clean up, rinse out the glasses filled with now-melted milkshakes and put them in the dishwasher, along with the dishes from dinner, but the whole time my lips are busy reminding my mind of how she tasted, sweet like chocolate dipped strawberries, ripe off the vine, and it’s driving me crazy.
I’m not a sexaholic—I’ve gone months without getting laid—but tonight my cock is persistent, pressing against the denim of my jeans, the ache like broken bone. I shut myself away in the bathroom and crank the shower faucet to hot and let the bathroom steam up, fogging the mirror. I strip and step into the tub. The spray hits my back in a torrent and I roll my shoulders and tip my head back to soak my hair. Rivulets trail down my body like rain.
I let my thoughts wander, and of course they wander back to Teagan. Just her name makes my cock twitch and in response, I wrap my fingers around myself, imagining her hands instead and in my mind’s eye she stands beside me in the shower, perfect in her nakedness, her breasts swaying with each breath she takes. Her dark hair is slicked away from her face, her cheeks touched with pink as she explores my body with her hands. I can see her smile, shy but sweet, as she runs them down my chest, down to my cock, gently stroking.
“Teagan,” I utter, the sound a soft hiss as she grows confident and I reach out to cup her breasts, weighing them in my hands, my thumbs skirting over the rosy aureolas until her nipples pebble. She gazes up at me, wide-eyed, before her smile turns almost wicked. She lowers to her knees on the shower floor, legs spread, and her slender fingers stroke me, tease me, taunt me. I groan, the sound echoing off the tile, and I can almost hear her laugh.
One hand falls to knead my balls and pleasure shoots through me. My hands rest on her head, fingers burying in her thick hair, and she looks up at me, suddenly coy. Her pink tongue darts out, licking the crown of my cock and my hips roll, desperate. She opens her mouth and begins to suckle on my head, her hands jacking me off in tune to the beat of my heart. My legs shake and I lean back against the slick shower wall as she takes me deeper, tongue laving the underside of my shaft, lips wrapped around my cock like she was born for this. She moans, the sound reverberating through me and my head lolls back as I groan. “That’s right, baby,” I whisper.
Her mouth slides off and I jerk as she sucks one nut into her mouth, the pressure sending shockwaves through me and my hands guide her head. “Don’t stop,” and once again her lips are sealed around the swollen head of my cock and this time, I begin to move, arching my hips to thrust a little deeper. She swallows around me, driving me damn near crazy, taking all of me.
Her movements are rapid now to match the erratic beat that I’m thrusting and she’s sucking and our moans are a symphony, urging us on and I’m right at the edge, teetering, pressure building up inside of me quickly now, and then she’s gone and my hands are my hands once again, jerking myself off and something inside of me snaps. With a low sound, I come, the sudden release staggering as the spray washes the evidence of that fantasy down the drain.
I finish showering, sated for now, and lay down in bed, but sleep eludes me. Still too wired, I pull on a pair of PJ pants and head downstairs in the dark, flicking on lights as I go. I start working on Baker’s Dozen again, playing the chorus over and over again, and around midnight, I get an idea.
I want to record it. Just a little bit of it, just for her. A teaser.
Excited, I set up my phone to take a video and sitting behind the keyboard, my fingers on the keys, I look into the camera’s eye, shoot Teagan a smile, and I begin to sing as if I was singing to her. Serenading her. I play it back, listening for any imperfections, and when I find one (because I always find one), I do another take. And another, and another, until my phone is filled with clips of the same damn song and I’m still not satisfied. I don’t want to send these, but I can’t get it right.
Maybe tomorrow, I decide with a sigh. Pocketing my phone, I turn the lights off in the basement and trudge back up the stairs. I want to share it with her—share all of it with her—but it’s just not ready yet. I lay back in bed, staring up at the ceiling, and start wondering...
One little kiss—what does it mean? Was it an impulse thing, or does she really like me? My mind spins these questions until I’m completely exhausted, and yet it keeps going, keeps making up scenarios, and I’m on a one-way trip to Crazyville, the bus careening dangerously down the road as the radio station plays Baker’s Dozen, with all its imperfections, nonstop.
So, “Fuck it.” I roll over in bed, grab my phone, and text Teagan the damn video. My finger hovers over the send button, hesitating before I finally press it and then the message zips away, out of my control and hopefully out of my mind. “Goodnight, Teagan.”
Fourteen
Teagan
In the span of the fifteen minutes that it takes to get home, the reality of the situation has hit me—hard. I kissed him. What does that mean for me? For him? For us? Is there an ‘us’? Do I want there to be an ‘us’? My heart is quaking like a jackhammer, slamming through the concrete around my heart, and even though I liked it, even though I wanted it, I’m scared and I hate it. I hate being this broken little girl, terrified of her own damn shadow. It’s not fair.
I grab my phone, flop down on the threadbare plaid couch in my living room, and call Dakota. As soon as her voice comes onto the line, I break down and spill my guts. I tell her everything—about dinner and the concert and the magic of the night, and I tell her about kissing him. Dakota squeals like a fangirl and in my gut, I know t
hat this is the reaction I should have to a kiss with a boy I like. Squealing and excitement, not apprehension and anxiety, and the tears come from out of nowhere.
“Teag, what’s the matter, honey?”
I’m clinging to the phone and crying; it starts out as silent tears and turn into soft, hiccupping sobs as I curl up on my side, the side of my face pressed into the pillow. “I don’t know what to do,” I say. “I’m scared and I don’t want to be, but I am and I don’t know how to not be. Eli is…perfect. He really is. He’s sweet and he’s gentle and I like him. I want to trust him, I do, but I’m scared of what will happen if I do.”
“It sounds to me like he’s what you need.” Dakota’s voice is calm, confident.
“Wh-What?”
“You need this—a boy to dote on you, someone who can teach you that you’re worth more than you think. Someone gentle who, if you let him, can help you work through your fear of men.”
“But I’m scared.” God, I feel like a whiny child, afraid of the dark.
“Of course you are! This is brand new. This is different. This is change and, let’s face it, you’re afraid of change. That’s nothing to be ashamed of, but you can’t let it hold you back. You’re stuck, Teagan, but you’re stuck because you choose to be.”
I bristle at her words because they hurt, but also because I think they’re true. “Guys only want one thing,” I tell her coldly, but is that true, or is it just another copout?
She tutts. “Eli doesn’t sound like the typical guy to me, sweetheart. It sounds like he respects you and, if he’s worth keeping, when that time comes, he’ll respect whatever decisions you make. Just please, don’t turn your back on this. It’s time to embrace it, Teag. I know you can do it.”
I go to bed, wrapped up in a cocoon of blankets, and I cry because I’m tired. Tired of being so fucked up, tired of being this person, this…thing. I’ve tried so hard to be someone new—a new name, a new city, a new life—and yet here I am. I’m still that same tortured little girl, deep down, and no amount of pretending will ever change that. I sob, burying my face in the blankets.
The kiss went too far—I took it too far, probably promised Eli something that I’ll never be able to give him, and it hurts. Worse, I don’t know how to fix it. For a long time, I just lay there, thinking up ways to tell Eli that I’m not interested, even if that’s a big fat lie. I am interested. I’m too interested for my own damn good. Damn it all to hell.
Then my phone goes off, vibrating across my nightstand, and I reach for it. It’s a text—a video—from Eli, and my pulse spikes. I swallow back the nerves and press the play button and my bedroom is filled with the slightly grainy, cell phone quality sound of a song. My song… It’s just the chorus, just him and his keyboard and his beautiful angel smile, nothing to get emotional over, but my eyes fill with tears even though I’m smiling, and I know the truth.
I want him. Not just for one kiss, but for many, and feeling a perfect blend of panicked and giddy, I dial his number and hope he’s still awake. Each and every ring is punctuated by my thudding pulse before he finally picks up, his voice slightly muzzy. “Hello?”
“Did I wake you?” I ask, nibbling on my lower lip.
“What? Oh. Yeah, yeah, but it doesn’t matter. Sleep is for sissies. What’s wrong?” he asks, like he already knows, and another tear slides down my face to drip onto my already wet covers.
I tell him what I’m feeling, the honesty coming through shocking even me. “I’m scared—terrified, really—and I thought you should know. I’ve been…hurt before and I don’t date. I mean, I have in the past, but it’s never worked out, so I stopped doing it. And then you came waltzing into my life, writing songs for me, singing to me, and I don’t know what’s going on. I kissed you, but I don’t know what that means, and I’m sorry. I’m just very confused.”
He’s quiet on the line and my breathing hitches, worried of what he might say, afraid of what he must think of me. “Please don’t hide from me,” he says softly and I swallow around the lump in my throat, my mouth suddenly dry. “I’ll be careful with you, Teagan, if you’d just trust me. Talk to me. I don’t care if it’s four in the morning, call me. Text me. Talk to me.” He breathes out a sigh. “I know it’s stupid, but I feel like I just found you. I don’t want to lose you again. Okay?”
I lay there, phone cradled to my ear, trying to match my breath to his on the other end of the line. “Okay,” I repeat after a few moments of this. “I want to. At least, I want to try. I really do like you.”
I can hear his smile when he says, “I really like you, too.”
“So what are we then?”
“What do you want us to be?”
I bite my lip, taking in the fleeting nip of pain in hopes that I can use it to push through the anxiety threatening to consume me. My voice is a bit shaky as I say, “I want us to be…us. I want a new beginning, damn it.” Is that too much to ask for? A chance with this guy? I press my eyes shut, praying to God that I’m doing the right thing, because I feel like I’m not and I am at the same time.
Eli’s soft laugh sends tingles down my spine. “Us. I like that.” Then, completely out of the blue, he asks, “What’s your middle name?”
My pulse thunders in my ears as I give him my middle name. My real middle name. “Marie.”
“Alright. Well it is officially…” I hear the soft squeak of a mattress. “Four-thirty-seven AM and we’ve had a long day. We both need sleep, so I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Sweet dreams, Teagan Marie.”
When he comes into Infiniti’s the next morning with a smile and a rose, I know that despite everything, I’ve made the right decision.
Fifteen
Elias
I pick Jake up after classes that afternoon, per his request. He’s got an idea for a new song, which isn’t typical for Jake. He’s more of the follower-type and he’s always preferred my music over his, but we’ll give it a try. Why not? Might be the next big thing.
He hoists himself up into my truck and we say our hellos, but he’s quiet most of the ride. He seems far away, lost in thought, somewhere deep inside his own head and assuming he’s thinking about that song, I keep my mouth shut and just drive. I get that way sometimes, like saying something might pierce my concentration and shatter my very thoughts.
So it surprises me when he clears his throat and starts to speak. “So. I was wrong,” he says, sounding halfway to nonchalant.
I glance sidelong at him and smirk. “What? You—wrong? No way.”
He cuffs me. “I’m trying to be serious here,” he grumbles, his brows pinched together. “I think you’ll wanna hear this. What I was saying is, I was wrong about Teagan.”
It hits me that he’s used her name instead of calling her the Ice Queen or the coffeeshop girl, and now I’m curious. “I’m all ears.”
Jake sighs. “She isn’t anything like I expected and I kind of feel like a dick for judging her so harshly. It’s obvious that you’ve been obsessed with her for weeks now and it’s not like I’ve been the easiest person to talk to. So. I’m sorry.” His speech isn’t much, but it’s heartfelt, and I know this is as close to spilling his guts as Jake gets.
“Mind telling me where all this emotional stuff is coming from, pal?”
He shakes his head and shrugs. “I don’t know. I really don’t. I just wanted to get that junk off my shoulders. I feel much better now, thanks,” he says, his smirk growing wider as he stretches out in the passenger seat, his knees almost hitting the dashboard.
We laugh and I think that he’s done, but a little while later, Jake seems to dig a bit deeper, growing serious once more. “Just be careful with her.” His voice loses that sharp edge, smoothing out, softening. He meets my gaze and purses his lips in a thin smile. “She reminds me of me, a little bit. She acts all big and tough, but deep down? She’s afraid. She’s been hurt.”
“I know,” I tell him, thinking of our conversation late last night, her voice hesitant as she laid all of h
er fears and insecurities down on the table. “We’re taking it a day at a time.”
He lifts a brow. “We?”
“Yeah. We,” I repeat.
“Good for you, buddy. It’s about time you got laid,” he snickers. When I glare at him, he rolls his eyes, unaffected. “But seriously, you should invite her over sometime. I think, for once, you’ve picked a girl that I can actually stand being around, instead of one of those fake blonde pinup bimbos you’ve always been so drawn to.”
He inspects his nails and pretends to flick hair over his shoulder, pasting on a cutesy smile as he squeaks in a high voice, “Ohhh, Eli! You’re so hot and smart and junk. We should, like, make out. What? You’re seriously doing that band thing? Oh my god. You’d rather play your banjo than come to my party? That’s so gay.”
I snort out a laugh, mostly because he’s right—every single girlfriend I’ve had has thought that making music is a waste of time, both mine and hers, which was ultimately the reason for our fallout. Every time.
“But Teagan,” Jake adds, “I think Teagan might like your music more than she likes you.”
I grin. “We’ll see. It’s kind of a package deal.”
“Hn. You said she plays? Wonder if we can con her into doing female vocals on a few songs.”
“Jake, it’s a little early for that, don’t you think?”
He huffs. “I was thinking of the future. Speaking of, you thought any more about doing an EP? We don’t have to look for a label if you’d rather have that indie sound. Honestly I don’t give a fuck at this point, I just want to start playing gigs and making a name for ourselves.”
“Yeah,” is all I say.
“Yeah? And?”
“I want to do the EP, but I don’t know where to begin.”
He flashes a grin. “Leave that to me, my brother. I’ve got connections. Tell you what—call Teagan up and get her to come to your place for awhile. I’ll even make dinner and we can play some Xbox while we toss ideas back and forth. We’ll need to come up with a track list and a title.” He chuckles. “Seriously though—Near-Perfect Symmetry. We’re gold.”
Neverlost (Melodies and Memories) Page 7
