“Good idea,” she agrees.
When we get back it’s almost dark out and the mosquitoes are starting to bite. I’ve got a welt on my cheek that itches like mad. The dogs are happy to go flop on top of the cool air registers, both of them panting.
Upon stepping inside, Dakota’s suddenly on edge again so I squeeze her arm and offer a reassuring smile. We find Eli and Jake playing that zombie game, neither of them saying a word to each other but still having bro-time, and they both look up as we sit down on the couch and I can already tell that Jake’s calmer, quieter.
“Winning or losing?” I ask.
“Losing. As always,” Eli says, though I know he doesn’t really care. He’s not that competitive when it comes to games and sometimes it’s easier to lose against Jake. He offers the controller to me, but I shake my head. Dakota reaches for it and Eli lifts a brow, then chuckles. “Gamer girl, eh? Kick his ass,” he tells her, which earns him a snort from Jake, but Dakota brazenly places herself in the seat next to Jake and they start up a new game without a word.
Eli nudges me into the kitchen and we listen from the doorway. We hear the occasional, “Damnit!” and “Did you see that? Game is bullshit!” as well as a couple of cocky ‘look what I can do’ laughs. Then, pitched low, I hear Jake hum and say, “Not bad…for a girl. Next round?” and Eli and I share a look and both of us are grinning.
Bingo.
~*~
Eli’s house is filled with the intoxicating scents of chocolate and caramel and coffee and amaretto, rich cherries and ripe coconut. I’m not that big into sweets myself, but it all smells so amazing that I can’t wait to sample everything. Dakota and I came up with a couple different ideas last night, plus Jake called his mom and got a few of her favorite recipes.
We’ve decided to make everything from scratch—no box mixes, no tubes of cookie dough. All of it is handmade and crafted with love and laughter. We spent the morning making coconut-caramel seven layer bars and chocolate covered amaretto cherry brownies and now they’re on cooling racks, smelling obnoxiously delicious.
Eli’s placed himself on dish duty, a sink full of suds in front of him and a washcloth in his hand and as we dirty a mixing bowl or a set of measuring cups, we hand them over to him and he gets them ready for the next round. Jake and Dakota are manning the counter, stirring and rolling cookie dough while I measure out ingredient after ingredient for the next batch. The kitchen is hot from the stove being run all morning long, even with two big box fans blowing air our way.
It’s a pretty nice set up—and something that would’ve been impossible in my little box kitchen—and everyone’s getting along for the most part. Eli and Jake are telling Dakota all about the band (though he keeps saying our band, like I’m involved when I’m really not) and the EP they’re recording and the big plans they have and Dakota absorbs it all like a sponge, her eyes shining with excitement. I’ve always pegged her as a total groupie; looks like I’m right.
“I’d love to hear you guys play sometime!” she says while plopping balls of double chocolate chip cookie dough down on a greased sheet, each one a perfect sphere placed the perfect distance from each other and it’s obvious she’s done this awhile.
“We’re nothing much—” Eli starts.
“They’re great,” I tell her, grabbing a mixing bowl off the counter and drying it off with one of the kitchen towels. “Eli’s too humble.” I shoot him a playful grin and the tips of his ears turn a light red, like it’s physically impossible for him to accept this and move on. “Really. I think they’ll go places.”
“Damn straight,” Jake says, wiping his flour covered hands on his jeans and leaving behind white prints. “We’re destined to hit the big time. Gonna zip right to the top. I know we are. Call it a gut feeling I have.”
“It won’t be that easy,” Eli mutters and Jake points a finger at him, warningly. Eli shakes his head. “I’m sorry, but it won’t be. That’s just how it is. So what if we have talent—so do hundreds of other artists, hundreds of other bands, and there are only so many labels. We don’t even have a set genre.”
“Sure we do,” Jake says. “It’s called Awesome.”
Dakota snickers. “I totally can’t wait to hear this.”
“Seriously though. Fuck the rules. We’re good enough, we are. I know if you actually pulled your head out from up that humble ass of yours, you’d realize it and we’d be on our way.” Jake looks at me, quirking a brow. “Ain’t that right, Teagan?”
“I think you guys definitely have that spark. Might wanna tone down the cockiness a tad, though,” I tease him, though I really do think they could go places. They’re just that good, even if I am a little bit biased. Sue me. I know what I like. “Why don’t you guys play a couple songs after everything’s all done here?”
Eli glances up at me, then looks to Jake. Jake meets his gaze evenly and for a breathless moment I think he’s going to rebel, refuse because Dakota’s standing right here and he’s made it blatantly obvious that he doesn’t trust her. Instead, he shrugs. “Why the hell not? We’re good.”
“Alright,” Eli agrees with a lopsided smile. “Won’t be anything special, but we can perform a few songs.”
“Oh it’ll be special,” Dakota says, almost wistful. She turns and opens the oven and a wave of heat rolls out at 375 degrees. She slides the metal tray of cookies onto the grate, closes the door, and sets the timer for half an hour. “I think one more batch and we’ll be good?”
“I hope so,” I say. “What happens if this shit doesn’t sell?”
“I call claimsies,” Eli says with a hoot of laughter. “My house, my cookies. You know how I feel about sweets!”
“Be careful now. You don’t want to lose your girlish figure.” I saunter over and poke him in the side. He cackles and wraps his arms around me, hands all pruned and soapy as he wrangles me into a hug, getting us both soaked in the process. I squeal out loud as his fingers begin to tickle me senseless until I’m gasping for breath. “Uncle!” I shriek, squirming down to the ground, trying to wriggle free of his death grip. “S.O.S! Dakota!”
But Dakota just laughs at my predicament. Eli follows me down, his legs pinned on either side of my hips and his hands are suddenly in my hair as he kisses my cries into oblivion. I go from flailing around to throwing my arms around his neck, dragging him closer as our lips meet again, my tongue sliding past his defenses to tangle with his, our breathing conjoined, and everything outside of Eli and me falls away.
He softens around me like warm taffy and coming up for breath, I use his moment of weakness to shove him to the side and scramble to my feet. “Victory,” I call out, flushed and breathless as I dance backwards. Eli flops onto the floor and closes his eyes, his smile so sweet.
But Jake… He’s looking at us with a strange expression on his face, halfway to unguarded, almost with a sort of longing, like he sees what Eli and I have and maybe he wants that for himself. Which surprises me, rocks me to the core, because I’ve always seen Jake as the loner, the guy who’ll be a bachelor into his thirties, caring little for the whims of women. But perhaps I was wrong. Stranger things have happened. I just hope that someday he’ll find a girl who will treat him as well as he deserves. He might be a beartrap at times, but he’s a good guy, deep down.
Dakota smirks knowingly at me, elbowing me in the side. “You take over for a bit, daaarling. I’m going to freshen up.” Pressing the hot pads into my hands, she tosses her mane of dark hair behind her like a model on a runway and struts out of the room. I see the way Jake’s head tips, watching Dakota go from the corner of his eye. Eli doesn’t move from his spot on the floor, lacing hands behind his head, as if he’s in the most comfortable place in the world.
“Get up here and take over,” Jake mutters, moving around him to wash his hands under the spray of hot water. He gives Eli a light kick in the ribs, then steps back. “I’ll be downstairs. Jamming.” He makes a low huffing sound, looks at me for a moment with steel blue eyes, a
nd walks out of the kitchen. I hear him stomp down the stairs and shut the door behind him.
“You think he’s okay?” Eli asks, gazing up at me, his eyes full of clarity and love.
“I think he will be,” I agree, walking over to him and offering him my hands. He slaps his now-dry palms into mine and I help hoist him up off the floor. He dusts the butt of his jeans off and I wrap my arm around his waist, slip my hand into his back pocket, leaning against him. “But he’s gotta figure it out on his own.”
Eli bobs his head in a nod. “No truer words, prettygirl.”
~*~
That night, after Jake and Eli give us another stunning mini-concert, playing all of the songs off their future EP plus the final, polished version of Baker’s Dozen, which thrills me to no end, we gather around the kitchen table and snack on the remainder of the sweet treats. Dakota and I separated everything into little baggies, ready to be priced for the bake sale, keeping out the crumbly, falling apart pieces for ourselves (and yeah, maybe we broke a few on purpose, sue us).
Eli goes from whimsical to suddenly serious as he claps his empty milk cup down on the table, hard enough to rattle the other cups. “Okay. So Teagan, I’ve already invited you, but Dakota isn’t on the down-low. Jake and I are taking a little road trip this weekend, going to visit the family back home for a few days.” He looks at Dakota, flashes a big grin. “If you wanna come along for the ride, that’s great. Would give us all some bonding time, stuck in a car for six hours straight and all.”
Jake groans at that. “Spare us.”
Dakota narrows her eyes at him, but keeps her mouth shut.
Eli continues, “So the offer’s open if you wanna come. If you’d rather not? I’ll pay you to stay here and dog-sit Mr. Beefy and Nika. Otherwise they’ll have to come with, since we can’t just leave them behind, but it’s up to you, sweets. We’d planned on taking off early Friday morning and staying till Tuesday evening.”
“I already got the hours off,” I tell them, finishing my last bite of seven layer bar. It melts in my mouth, too good to waste even though I’m stuffed to the gills. “Dakota, you should come.” I look at her hopefully, because as much as I love Eli and Jake, the idea of being stuck in a car with them for hours upon end—on the way to ‘meet the parents’ so to speak—isn’t my idea of a great time. “Don’t make me beg.”
“Please do.” Jake snickers.
“I’m kinda with Jake on that one. I’d like to see you beg,” Dakota says, one side of her mouth tipping into a wry grin.
I wad up my napkin and chuck it at her. It bounces off her head and flutters to the ground harmlessly. I glance at Eli, who raises his hands in defense, and groan. “Fiiiine!” I throw myself to the ground beside Dakota’s chair, both dogs deciding this is a grand time to lick me to death, and as I’m fending off doggy breath, I take her hand in mine and roll out the dramatics. “Please don’t make me go alone with these two douchebags. Pretty please, with a cherry on top!”
She cackles gleefully and pats my head like I’m one of the dogs. “Ah, what the hell.” She looks at Eli. “You sure it’s cool with your parents?”
He nods. “It’ll be fine. I told them I was bringing some friends. They’ll deal.”
I sit cross-legged on the floor, Nika crawling halfway into my lap. I wrap my arms around her and scratch her sides with my fingers until her hind leg starts kicking. I give her a squeeze. “Just a warning: Nika gets carsick.”
“Lovely. And I’m guessing you’re opposed to the dogs riding all the way there in the bed of the truck like a couple of farm dogs?” Jake offers.
“Uh, yeah. Sorry bucko,” I say. Nika would flip her unholy shit back there. She already hates car rides enough as it is. I don’t want to traumatize her anymore than I have to.
He shrugs. “Was worth a try.”
Eli clears his throat, bringing everyone’s attention back to him. “So, everyone’s cool with riding together in my truck? Save gas that way. Might be a tight fit, but we’ll make it work. It’s only for a couple of hours both ways. We can spread out and go our separate ways once we get there.”
“Yep,” Jake and I say in unison.
“Sure,” Dakota adds.
“Great. I’ll pick you guys up on my way out of town. Have your bags packed and be ready to go by five am Friday morning. This meeting is now adjourned. Who wants to watch a movie?”
Thirty Two
Elias
As much as I want Teagan to meet my parents, let’s get real—they’re my parents, ever-judgmental with too high of expectations of their youngest son, and Teagan’s not exactly the kind of girl they usually acquaint themselves with, so this might be me going insane. I hope not; I hope that somehow, magically, they love her and don’t end up grilling her on her education and yearly salary and all things that don’t matter to me but matter to them.
Needless to say, I’m suddenly filled to the brim with anxiety, sending up a prayer that this weekend goes as smooth as butter.
At the break of dawn, bags packed and shoved under the seat, I swing by Infiniti’s and order a baker’s dozen of their filled donuts and four tall hot coffees for the road. It’s the first time I’ve stepped foot inside the coffeeshop since Teagan stopped working there, and I have to say. Without her? It’s a little less than magical.
I pick up Jake first and the minute he clambers into my truck with a pre-caffeine grunt, I shove a cup of hot coffee at him. He blinks, as if shocked that I dare think ahead, and I laugh. His lips twist up at one corner as he begins to guzzle breakfast. “Thanks, man.” Mr. Beefy licks the back of his head from his place in the back seat, tail smacking against the window with a repetitive, meaty thud.
“Anytime.”
I pull into my usual spot behind the apartments, letting the truck idle in the humid morning air, headlights painting light across the side of the house before the sun has the chance to burn them away. Grabbing my phone, I text Teagan a quick good morning and five minutes later she and Dakota come out of the building, bags in tow, Nika nervously slinking along behind them.
She swings the back door open and lifts Nika up into the cab to join Mr. Beefy. They greet each other with whuffs, licks, and tail wags. “Here we go. Good girl,” she murmurs in a sweet voice, climbing into the back after her. Dakota goes around to the other side with a huge yawn and somehow we manage to fit four people, four duffle bags, and two large breed dogs into a truck that seats five. It’s a tight fit, but we can deal for a couple hours’ drive without going crazy, right?
“Coffee and donuts, anyone?” I ask, lifting the box.
“Gimme,” Dakota says upon yawning once more. I pass the donuts back, as well as the two coffees with cream and sugar, and the truck is filled with the sounds and smells of a perfectly unhealthy breakfast. “You are a god,” Dakota adds, her mouth stuffed full of cream cheese pastry.
“Then you haven’t yet met Eli’s father,” Jake says around a smirk. “The one, true god.”
“Let’s not go there.” I punch him on the shoulder. He punches me back twice as hard and I gear the truck into drive. “Let’s get this show on the road,” I sing in a falsetto and then we’re off.
Within half an hour Dakota falls back to sleep, head lolled against the back window in a way that doesn’t look comfortable. She begins to snore, so Jake cranks the radio to some horrible country station and even amidst the twang, she doesn’t stir. Out like a light. “Damn, she can sleep through anything,” Jake mutters. “Lucky bitch. What I wouldn’t give for a couple more hours of shut eye. Was up til two playing Dead Attack.”
I give him a look and turn off the radio. The cab’s filled with soft snoring once more. “And whose fault was that?”
Jake huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “Surely not mine. Turn that back on, I was listening to it.”
“Too early for country music,” Teagan sing-songs from the back, taps me on the shoulder, and hands up my little binder of burned CDs. I’ve got a mix of everything in the
re, from jazz-rock to screamo to the soundtrack of RENT. “Here, pick something actually decent—or I’ll pick something for you.”
“I’m not three.” He snatches the CD case and begins to flip through it haphazardly.
“We could always listen to Maroon 5?” I offer, knowing damn well what Jake thinks of them.
“Or we could turn the country crap back on. Same shit, different guitar.”
“Tone down the bitchy,” I tell him. “Otherwise you’re riding in the back.”
He rolls his eyes and plucks a CD from the case, sliding it into my truck’s CD player. He cranks up the volume and a moment later, the beginnings of one of Snow Patrol’s more depressing albums begins to play. When I look at him to do a double take, he just smiles eerily. “See how many hours of this we can handle, eh?” and claps me on the shoulder. “You’ll wish you’d left the country station on.”
I repress a smile and shake my head. “If you say so.” I won’t tell him the reason that CD’s in my truck to begin with is that, unlike some people, I actually like this band. I’ll let him believe he’s doing me a disservice and leave it at that. I glance at Teagan in the rearview mirror. Nika’s sprawled on her lap. Her grin is infectious. “Here we go.”
~*~
The closer we get to home, the more nervous I feel, anxiety pinging through me at the speed of light, making my stomach ache, making me wish I’d eaten more than a couple cream filled donuts and a coffee with extra sugar. Soon familiar landmarks pass me by, surrounding me with old memories, and I realize how thankful I am to be on my own. Not that I don’t love my hometown—I do, how could you not love the place you were raised?—but with it comes the harsh reality of a family who’s always expected too much.
I’m suddenly not ready for Teagan to meet them. I want to hide her away in a box, keep her for myself, because I’m afraid of what they’ll think of her. Afraid of how they’ll treat her, wondering if they might break her, as if she’s a fragile butterfly I need to keep under a sheet of glass. I swallow hard, taking another glance in the rearview. “Almost there now,” I announce.
Neverlost (Melodies and Memories) Page 20
