Everything After

by Melissa Toppen

  “He just worries about her.” Aiden shrugs, sliding into the chair next to Sean.

  I want to question who Alice is. A girlfriend maybe? Unless she's the blonde from the hotel, I doubt it. By the way they are talking, I can't help but get the impression that he really cares about her, whoever she is. As tempted as I am to gain some clarification on the matter, I refrain, feeling like it's not really my place to ask.

  “And Gabe?” Kate adds, interrupting my thoughts. “Do I even want to know where that man whore is?” She chuckles lightly, shrugging when Chet gives her a scolding look. “It's not like it's some huge secret that he can't keep it in his pants.” She defends, clearly not one for holding her tongue.

  “Pretty sure you just answered your own question.” Aiden chimes in again.

  “Well if we are going to have to wait, I'm going to have a drink.” Kate announces, pushing up off of the couch and crossing the space towards a small mini fridge tucked next to the table where Sean, Chet and Aiden are all sitting. Pulling it open, she pulls out two beers, tosses one to Chet and then twists the cap off the other, looking to make sure I don't want one before closing the door.

  I lean forward, pulling my cell phone out of my back pocket to check the time. Just after ten at night. I am no stranger to staying up, having a mind that runs a mile a minute usually prevents me from getting much sleep, so I am surprised by how tired I feel this early. Of course, I barely slept last night and have been on the go all day today. Not wanting to be the first one to bed, I settle back into my seat and try to make myself comfortable.

  Kate pulls out her phone and starts typing away on it, apologizing after several minutes of silence, saying that she handles all the posts for the bands social media sites and needs to get some photos from the show uploaded. Chet and Sean discuss some of the commitments they have coming up. I can't help but laugh at Chet's reaction to how much they have to do outside of playing their actual shows. Apparently he did not realize how much this tour would entail.

  “Well I'm out.” Aiden announces just after eleven o'clock. “See you all in Alabama.” He mutters, grabbing a bottle of water out of the fridge before disappearing into the back of the bus.

  “I think I will turn in as well.” I say, thankful that someone else finally called it a night. If I want any hope of sleep tonight, I am going to need to fall asleep before this bus starts moving. I have never been able to sleep in a moving car, I don't think a bus is going to be much different, bed or not.

  “Already?” Chet teases, taking a long drink of his third beer.

  “What can I say, I'm lame.” I shrug playfully, causing him to laugh out. After saying goodnight to the three, I excuse myself from the lounge area and quickly make my way to the back of the bus.

  A part of me instantly feels irritated at the sight of Killian's empty bed in front of me. I know I have no right, but the thought of him out doing God knows what with Alice or whoever else, really grates on me.

  I grab the thin rail of the bunk and climb up the three metal stairs that lead up to my bed, stepping carefully as the only light offered is a nearby street lamp shining in through the back window. Collapsing down onto the hard mattress, I let out a loud sigh.

  “Don't worry, you get used to it.” Aiden laughs from behind his bunk curtain, startling me for a moment.

  “Huh?” I say, not entirely sure what he is referring to.

  “The bed.” He laughs.

  “I don't know about that.” I say, grabbing the curtain and pulling it closed, quickly sliding out of my clothes and into the plaid pajama bottoms and black tank that I laid out on my bed earlier today.

  “Night Nora.” Aiden laughs lightly again before falling silent.

  “Night Aiden.” I say, settling back down onto my bed. Grabbing the thick gray fleece I brought with me from home, I snuggle into one of the only things that feels familiar and turn my eyes to the back window.

  There are tons of people passing by the bus, luckily none of which can see through the window that looks black from the outside. Rolling to my side, I watch them as they pass, wondering who they are and where they are headed. People watching is one of my favorite things to do. I find it so fascinating the way people behave and interact when they don't know anyone is watching.

  I watch a couple, arms draped around each other, as they make their way towards the bus. It's not until they stop just feet from the back window that I realize it's Killian. He's got his arm wrapped around yet another blonde, and she is most definitely not the girl from the hotel. Alice maybe? Another girl entirely? With a man like Killian, I am sure I will have more than a little trouble keeping up with all the women in his life.

  This one is just as much of a floozy as the hotel girl. Her little black dress is so tight, her large chest is all but popping out for everyone to see. She leans into Killian, her tall heels making her only a couple of inches shorter than him. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulls him in for a deep kiss, getting no resistance from him when she does.

  My stomach lurches at the sight and as much as I want to turn away, I can't. It's like passing a car accident, no matter how horrific the scene, I simply cannot look away. I watch his hands skate down her back and settle on her hips before he finally pulls away, a small grin pulling up the corners of his mouth.

  I watch as he tells her goodbye, though I can't make out exactly what he is saying. I try to read his lips but through the dimness of the street light, am not very successful. She leans in and places one last kiss on his mouth before spinning around and sauntering off.

  My God, how many women does this man manage to go through in a day? It's clear that women flock to him in droves. I guess I can't blame the guy for cashing in on some of his new found fame, though I doubt he's ever had an issue attracting women, even before the band.

  He stands there for a long moment, watching the girl walk away before turning his eyes to the back of the bus. He looks directly at me and if I didn't know any better, I would say he knows that I am in here watching him. He takes a deep breath and lets it out, a sadness I am not prepared to see crossing his face for the smallest moment before he turns and makes his way around the front of the bus.

  I hear him the moment he steps on board, his voice so different from all the others, though I can't make out what he's saying. I lay here for what feels like forever, listening to the muffled voices, praying that the image of Killian and the blonde will not stay with me for much longer, as it is the only thing I can see when I close my eyes.

  I know what it is. It's the music, the charm, the fact that everyone wants him. That's the draw. What woman doesn't want to conquer a man that thousands of others want? I may be far beyond the type of girls that Killian surrounds himself with, but I am still human.

  I jump slightly, my thoughts fading as I hear shuffling just outside of my bunk. I know it's Killian, I can smell his distinct cologne as it filters through the small space around me. It's one of the most intoxicating smells ever and a part of me is tempted to rummage through his things just to find out exactly what it is.

  I practically hold my breath, waiting for him to climb into his bunk. I lay as still as I can, not wanting to announce the fact that I am still awake. He tosses and turns below me for several minutes before finally falling silent. I feel myself starting to doze just a few short minutes later but then the rumble of the bus engine firing to life jolts me back awake.

  Startled, my eyes shoot open and I immediately look out the window, silently thanking Killian for letting me have this bunk. I feel calmer knowing I can look outside, less claustrophobic. The bus begins pulling out onto the street and it's clear to see that more time has passed than I realized. The once busy sidewalk is now vacant and there are no other vehicles on the road with us.

  Fumbling around the ledge that sits between my bed and the window, I locate my cell phone. Pulling it out, I see that it is now just after one in the morning. Locating my duffel at the end of my bed, I pull it up next to me and qu
ickly find my ear buds in the side pocket before pushing it back to the side.

  Needing to eliminate the noise of the bus in an attempt to get even a little sleep, I hit play on my most recent playlist, which just happens to be Everything After. The moment Killian's voice fills my ears, an eerie feeling settles over me. How strange it is to listen to his voice through headphones when he is laying just feet below me.

  Closing my eyes, I snuggle back into my blanket while the words of Given In, one of the band's more mellow songs, plays lightly through my head. Killian's smooth rasp lulls me back to sleep as his words play, repeating over and over again, searing their way into my soul.

  Everything After

  Given In

  I search for forgiveness

  A voiceless plea

  Trying to pretend

  I'm not exactly what you see

  Chapter Eight

  Killian

  “So you're twenty-five years old.” Nora states, clearly already knowing that to be the case. “How old were you when you discovered your love of music?” She asks, tucking her long hair behind her ear as she prepares to write my answer down on the pad of paper sitting on the table in front of her.

  We've been at this for all of five minutes and yet, she seems to get more nervous with each question she asks. I can't lie, I rather enjoy making her squirm. There is something about ruffling up her perfect exterior that I find oddly satisfying.

  “Fifteen.” I answer, offering no additional information. She scribbles on her notepad and then turns her bright green eyes back on me. I stiffen slightly under her gaze. Something about this girl, something about those eyes, makes me feel like she can see right fucking through me.

  “What happened when you were fifteen that made you realize you wanted to be a musician?” She continues, clearly not willing to let me out of answering the question completely.

  “I was an angry kid, pissed off at the world. My therapist told my Aunt that I needed something to pour all the emotion I was feeling into. Two days later, she bought me a guitar. My uncle played when he was younger and said it got him through some really rough times. I guess she hoped it would work for me too. I didn't set out to be a musician. There isn't one specific thing that made me want to be a musician. I woke up one day and was a musician. That simple.” I shrug, pausing to thank the waitress as she sets our drinks down in front of us.

  When I pictured doing this interview, I certainly did not expect to do it tucked away in the corner of a local coffee shop in Alabama but I must admit, it feels official this way. Like being interviewed by a journalist for a major magazine in a crowded coffee shop means I've made it somehow. If making it is what I even fucking want.

  Nora blows lightly on her latte, drawing my attention to her full lips as she tentatively takes a drink, my eyes still glued to her mouth as she sets the cup back down and continues.

  “Did you take lessons or was it something you just picked up?” She asks, pulling my attention away from her irresistible mouth.

  “No lessons. I just gave it hell every day until it started sounding something like music.” I smirk at the thought, taking a long drink of my black coffee before finding Nora's eyes again.

  “Natural talent.” She observes. “I'm not surprised.”

  “What makes you say that?” I ask, curious about her comment.

  “It's just... Well, I've seen you play.” She says.

  “And?” I push for more.

  “Just that.” She shrugs. “You're a natural.” Her phone springs to life on the table in front of her and she jumps, clearly startled. “I'm so sorry.” She says, picking up the vibrating device, immediately silencing it.

  “Aren't you going to get it?” I ask, leaning back in my chair and taking another drink of my coffee.

  “No, I can call her back.” She seems flustered, dropping her phone back down onto the table.

  “I don't mind.” I insist, smiling when she pins those damn eyes on me.

  “It's just my mom.” She shrugs. “I forgot to call her and let her know we got here safely.” She blushes slightly.

  “Is she a worrier?” I ask.

  “The worst.” She sighs, once again tucking her hair behind her ears, something I am realizing is a nervous tick of hers. “I'm the youngest child, it kind of goes with the territory. The baby and all. I'm sorry.” She shakes her head and straightens her posture. “You don't have time to listen to me ramble on about my family.”

  “No. Tell me more.” I say, more than a little curious about where she comes from. I usually don't care to know much about a woman, but this girl, I don't know. I just feel like I need to know.

  “That's really all there is.” She picks up her pen, checking a question off of her list.

  “Where do they live?” I interrupt just as she starts to ask me another question. She pauses for a moment, a little hesitant.

  “Washington D.C.” She holds her drink up to her mouth, making sure it has cooled down a little more before hesitantly taking another sip.

  “Did you grow up there?” I ask, desperate to keep her talking.

  “Yes.” She gives me another short answer.

  “Your parents still married?” She nods, taking another drink of her latte. “What do they do for a living?” I keep going.

  “Dad is a Mortgage Executive and Mom is an Interior Designer.” She shrugs.

  “And you said you were the youngest child?”

  “Yes. I have a brother, Brian. He's twenty-nine and lives in New York. Danielle, my older sister, is twenty-seven. She still lives in D.C. not far from Mom and Dad.” She eyes me curiously as she speaks, clearly not understanding why I care.

  “Are you close?” I ask, wanting to see how much more she will tell me before she shuts me down.

  “We talk here and there but not really. I'm five years younger than Danielle and seven younger than Brian, so growing up they never really wanted me around.”

  “Older siblings.” I shake my head, drinking the remainder of my coffee down in one large gulp.

  “Do you have siblings?” She asks, my comment obviously making it sound like I have experience with such things.

  “No, but I grew up with two older cousins.”

  “Here in the States?” She asks, tactfully turning the topic of conversation back to me.

  “Yes.”

  “So you lived here with?” She leaves the question hanging.

  “My Aunt and Uncle.” I respond, not really wanting to get into the details of my childhood.

  “But you’re from Ireland?” Again, she leaves the question hanging.

  “I am.”

  “Are you really going to give me short one word answers every time I ask you a question?” She asks, clearly a bit irritated. Her nostrils flare slightly and I have to admit, it's about the most fucking adorable thing in the world.

  “Yes.” I answer, laughing when her eyebrows draw together in frustration.

  “Fine, be difficult.” She turns back to the notepad in front of her.

  “How is it that you came to live in the United States?” She asks, crossing her leg over the other as she leans back in her chair and rests the notepad on her lap.

  My mom's face flashes through my mind and immediately, I know I need to shut this down. I can't dig up the ghosts of my past. Not now. Not with her. That is a door I have not opened in a very long time, and one I certainly am not going to open today.

  “I think that's enough questions for one day.” I say, pushing away from the table.

  “But... I'm not finished.” She objects, clearly caught off guard.

  Standing, I push my chair in, drop a few dollars on the table, and then turn my attention back to her. “You want to get out of here for a while, just go sightseeing or something?” I ask, not missing the way her eyes widen in surprise.

  “But the interview...” She starts.

  “Can wait.” I finish the sentence. “You have two months to drag all the information you want out of m
e, no need to do it all in one day. Come on.” I hold my hand out to her. “A couple of hours and I promise I will return you in one piece.” I smile, pulling her to her feet when she finally caves and takes my hand.

  Her skin is so soft against mine that for a moment, I am tempted to hold onto that hand well past the point that she is standing in front of me. Reluctantly releasing it, I take a step back and wait for her to pass me before following her out of the cafe and into the warm Alabama heat.

  “So, where to?” She asks, as we make our way down the sidewalk.

  “No idea.” I laugh. “I can't say I have ever been to Alabama before. You?”

  “Nope.” She shakes her head. “I wonder what one does in Alabama.”

  “Well, I know one thing that's acceptable in any state.” I say, lifting my eyebrows up and down suggestively at her.

  Her eyes widen which causes me to laugh out. Clearly that perfect little facade she tries to put on is not void of a dirty mind. I would venture to say there are a lot of things that she tries to hide about herself and I am fucking determined to uncover each and every one of them.

  “As long as it does not require me to remove any of my clothing.” She says, quickly recovering.

  “Relax.” I bump my shoulder playfully with hers. “Not all of your clothing.” I laugh.

  Chapter Nine

  Nora

  “You can't be serious.” I shake my head, watching Killian strip down into nothing but his black boxer briefs. I try to keep my eyes on his face, refusing to let his incredible body distract me from keeping our relationship at least semi-professional.

  “Oh I am.” He laughs.

  “Killian, I am not getting in there.” I say, shaking my head back and forth.

  “Yes you are.” He smiles mischievously at me. “Now, are you going to take your clothes off or do you want me to do it for you?” He asks, licking his lips at me playfully.

  It's impossible not to be sucked in by Killian. He's infectious, addicting, and honestly, downright irresistible.

  “I can handle it.” I push at him when he grabs the hem of my white sleeveless top.