The Songs We Remember: A Young Adult Romance (The Songs in Our Hearts Book 2)

by Chantal Gadoury

“...seven…six…five…”

  We watched the ball descend to the landing, another year gone, another year to experience. The 2017 sign lit up with the last few seconds. The announcer on the show had grabbed a co-anchor and kissed her.

  “Happy New Year, Charlie,” Micah murmured huskily.

  “Happy New Year, Micah,” I whispered. Micah leaned forward again, and pressed his lips against mine. This time, the kiss was different. This time, there was something more behind it. There were so many unspoken emotions seeping from between his lips; there was a need—desire. My head began to feel as though I were swimming—drowning—in it.

  I didn’t know who moved away from whom first. All I knew was that I had a hard time catching my breath. This was different from any other kiss with Micah. The look in his eye told me he felt that way too.

  “Do you want to keep playing?” I asked, my voice shaky and unrecognizable.

  “I don’t really want to play anymore,” Micah replied. A shiver ran down my spine as I nodded and slowly pushed myself up onto my feet.

  I moved to the TV and turned it off. Everyone knew that once midnight hit, the bands that performed were less popular. It got old—quick. Micah’s eyes followed my every movement. I carefully came back to kneel beside him and put away the playing cards in the drawer of my nightstand. What is he thinking? I felt as though my heart were beating loudly in my chest. Turning my attention to my phone, I tapped my screen. There were a few text messages from friends wishing me a Happy New Year.

  When I turned around, Micah was sitting on the edge of my bed.

  “Are you going to go to bed?” he asked.

  “No…at least, not right away.”

  “Do you want me to leave?”

  “No,” I said, almost too quickly. Micah nodded and patted the spot beside him. I climbed onto my bed, leaving a safe distance between us with the help of some extra pillows. Micah slid a hand through his hair and cleared his throat.

  “Do you want to watch a movie?” I asked, trying to think of how to break the awkward tension. We had never shared a kiss quite as passionate before. My body felt strange, and more self-aware. I wished I knew what he was thinking, feeling. Micah shook his head.

  “No. It’s a little late for a movie,” he said.

  “Well, then what do you want to do?” I asked, pulling my comforter over my legs.

  Micah didn’t reply. Instead, he pushed himself up from the bed, walked toward the door, flicked the light off, then came to stand in front of where I was sitting.

  “I should probably go. It’s late. I don’t want to get you in trouble.” Trouble. I hadn’t thought about that. The idea of Micah staying so late on New Year’s Eve hadn’t crossed my mind as a problem for my parents. They had only warned us not to drink at Marshall’s party. But I knew my parents’ rules, and allowing a boy to sleep over in my room—in my bed—wouldn’t be allowed. At least with their knowledge.

  “You won’t,” I lied. “I really don’t want you to go.” If I was being honest, I wanted Micah to stay the night with me again. I wanted him to curl up in my bed and fall asleep with me, just as we had a few months ago. But even that had been different. We were different.

  Micah’s hand cupped my cheek. Everything was silent between us. I was convinced Micah could hear my heart beating wildly in my chest. I was grateful, in that moment, for the darkened room.

  And then, Micah pressed his lips hard against mine. He lowered his hands to my arm and waist, tightening only slightly to pull me closer. He slanted his mouth over mine, making it nearly impossible to think or breathe. The warmth from his body engulfed mine, and I became a flood of hot, molten desire. My body seemed to roar to life under his touch. He pulled away for a moment, his eyes piercing mine in the soft glow the outdoor Christmas lights cast into my room. His eyes were asking me the most important question of all. Was this all right? Could he continue? Did I want this?

  My breath was unsteady as I nodded.

  Micah’s lips recaptured mine. I could taste his hunger. His hands softened against my waist, and carefully pulled away. He leaned over the bed, his knee coming to rest on the edge of the mattress. I eased back against my pillows, allowing him room to join me. My entire body began to shake with nerves. What if I did this wrong? What if I was terrible at this? What if Micah changed his mind about everything?

  My hands held tightly onto his shoulders, pulling him closer to me. I knew I wanted this; I wanted him. I wanted him so much. Micah’s fingers tugged at the sleeve of my sweatshirt as a playful laugh fell between us. He chuckled as he freed one arm at a time, until he pulled the entire sweatshirt over my head. The air felt cool against my bare skin. I was almost exposed, only wearing my bra in front of him. Clenching my teeth, I began to shiver from my insecurity.

  Micah’s warm lips grazed my collarbone and shoulder, almost the way I imagined a butterfly’s kiss to feel. I didn’t recognize the sound of the faint gasp that emerged from my lips—it was mine.

  “Is this all right?” he whispered against my ear, nipping wickedly with his teeth.

  This was more than all right. My hands slid underneath his white cotton shirt. His skin was so smooth, so warm on my fingertips. I nodded eagerly, my lips searching for his. I could feel Micah’s breath against my skin as he pressed a kiss on my cheek.

  “Yes?” he asked softly. His thumb brushed over my bottom lip.

  “Yes,” I replied feverishly. “Yes.”

  My parents had to be asleep. I wished with every breath that they were. Josh was still out with friends. It was hours until morning; a new day. All I could focus on was Micah. He tugged his shirt up over his head, revealing his chest. His brown hair fell over his eyes as he peered down at me.

  “Micah,” I whispered. He raised his eyebrow curiously as he relaxed against me. Every inch of his body was pressed against my own.

  “Is this all right for you, too?” I asked quietly, hesitantly…curiously. Micah nodded.

  “You don’t have to do this for me, Charlie,” he replied. “We’ll go as slow as you want. We’ll only go as far as you’re comfortable with.” A gentle finger caressed my bare arm like a promise. A shiver ran down along my body from his warm touch and the crisp cool air that followed.

  “I want you,” I admitted. Micah smiled as he leaned forward again, his mouth capturing mine gently.

  “I want you too.”

  I became lost in a whirlwind of tangled limbs and kisses, and everything Micah.

  “Golden Love”

  Midnight Youth

  I COULD HEAR MICAH’S STEADY breath against my ear as I cracked a sleepy eye open. He skimmed his fingers over my forehead, pushing a strand of my hair out of my eyes.

  “It’s late,” he whispered. “I should get home before your parents wake up.”

  I suddenly became more aware of how very little clothes I was wearing. The flash of our ardent kissing made me smile. This hadn’t been a wild dream of mine.

  “O-oh…” I murmured as I nodded. My hands grappled with the sheets as I tugged them up to my chin. I was only wearing a bra and a pair of sweat shorts. “Okay.”

  “You all right?”

  “Yeah,” I replied, pushing myself up to sit. “Can you pass me my shirt?”

  “Yeah, I can do that.” He leaned over and picked up the sweatshirt I had been wearing before and handed it to me.

  “Can you close your eyes?” I asked shyly. Micah snorted and smiled wider.

  “Good lord, Charlie. You’re worried about modesty now?”

  “Don’t ‘good lord’ me, Micah Jacobs! Close your eyes,” I commanded playfully. Micah squeezed his eyes shut, though I was almost sure he was peeking as I slid my sweatshirt on.

  “Safe?”

  “Safe.”

  “I had a good time tonight.” He slid a hand through his hair, almost as though he
were nervous to acknowledge our fooling around. I hope you had a good time. I felt my cheeks heat up.

  “Me too.”

  “How are you feeling?” I could tell by the subtle flush of color on his cheeks he was feeling just as shy as I was.

  “Good,” I said with a smile. “I’m fine.”

  “Fine?”

  “Shy too,” I admitted.

  “Yeah,” he agreed. “Shy is a good word for how I feel too.”

  As I bit my bottom lip, I hoped I hadn’t disappointed him. Hours before, when Micah’s searching fingers had lingered above the waistband of my pants, I panicked. I had pushed his hand away and shook my head as I searched for understanding in his eyes.

  He had immediately respected my choice to stop. Micah simply pulled me close to him and pressed a small kiss on my temple.

  “Hey,” he said presently, as he touched my hand. “Hey…it’s okay.” I lifted my gaze up to his and was met with reassurance, acceptance.

  “I didn’t disappoint you, did I?”

  Micah’s gaze turned from concern to confusion as he shook his head.

  “No, of course not. Is that what you’re worried about?”

  “No,” I managed to say.

  “Liar.” He smirked. “Come on, I know you better than that.”

  “I don’t regret my stopping…I just…” Wasn’t ready. My words faded into silence. I felt Micah’s eyes search my face for answers. I knew he wanted to know what I was thinking. I knew he was grappling for anything.

  “Just?” he questioned. “Talk to me.”

  “I just didn’t want to disappoint you,” I said, fighting the compelling urge to pull the hood of my sweatshirt over my head. I heard Micah chuckle.

  “Don’t think for a second that I didn’t enjoy every moment with you. Everything that happened was enough for me, Charlie. Trust me.” He leaned forward to brush his lips against mine. “The day we decide to go all the way, if we do, it’ll be special. It’ll be a moment that we’re both ready for. Okay?”

  “Okay. It’s not like I really gave much thought to all of this before,” I admitted. “I was planning on being a nun with those paper hearts.”

  “I’m glad you decided to not be a nun.” I appreciated that Micah was trying to lighten up the situation. I moved some of the blankets away as I tried to whack his shoulder with a laugh.

  “There we go,” he said. “A smile. That’s what I was aiming for.”

  “Was I terrible?” I blurted curiously.

  “Define terrible?” Micah chuckled and leaned back, bracing himself for the pillow I grabbed and threw in his direction. “No!” He laughed. “You weren’t terrible. Was I?”

  “Let’s just say I was so grateful when it was finally over,” I teased back.

  He snorted. “You always know exactly how to win a man’s heart. Nothing speaks love like insults.”

  I giggled as he touched his phone screen to check the time. It was 1:40 AM. It seemed the time for talking was over, at least for now.

  “I’d better go,” he said with a groan. Just as he began to pull away, I wrapped my arms around his neck and allowed my mouth to meet his.

  “Another time,” he promised as he inched away. His eyes reflected his vow. There would be a time for the two of us. A time when we were both ready for that sort of intimacy. For now, what we shared was enough. “Sleep now. I’ll text you later.”

  “Can you sneak out on your own?”

  “Are you kidding me? I have this entire house memorized.” He tugged his jacket on and walked to the door. He slipped out of my room, and I only heard the gentle creaking of the floor as he crept out of the house.

  I glanced around, my eyes drifting from wall to wall, feeling different. I felt changed somehow, happier. I could still feel Micah’s lips against my skin…my neck, my shoulder, my collarbone. I could still feel the faint trace of his fingertips on my arm, stomach, and waist. As I lay back in my bed, I could smell a hint of him among my pillows. Everything was different now; a new bond had been made. There was a new connection that I could feel tighten in my stomach. Micah.

  I pushed myself out of bed to get the power cord to my phone. Taking a moment to peer at myself in the mirror on the wall, I felt as though I was seeing a new version of myself. A stronger, more confident person. He had seen something in me that I hadn’t, and now I was better for it.

  As I lifted a hand to my cheek, I began to wonder if I would ever regret opening up to Micah so much. I had never allowed myself to feel for anyone the way I did for him. I wondered if it would always be him. Would there ever come a time when he and I would separate? Move away? Would this night become a long-distant memory?

  I prayed silently, as I turned away from the mirror and climbed into bed, that I would never feel as though I had just cut a piece of my pink paper heart away forever. I didn’t want a pair of scissors snipping away at the moments that meant so much to me.

  My phone buzzed a few minutes later. I already knew it would be him.

  MICAH: <3 Happy New Year

  MICAH: Here’s to us and our new year together

  I smiled, ignoring the small feeling of panic in my stomach. There were so many what-ifs. What would tomorrow bring? What would happen after this? But I would think about all of that later. For now, there was just us.

  CHARLIE: <3

  “Cold”

  Aqualung and Lucy Schwartz

  IT WAS FRIDAY. THE END of the week, and the last weekday of the holiday break.

  I slowly opened my eyes and peered at the time in the far corner of my room: 6:10 AM. I reached out for my phone beside the bed and checked to see if Micah had texted me. For the past few days, he and his dad had decided to spend some much-needed—in my opinion—time together. Everything between us felt on hold, as though we weren’t exactly sure how to be with one another, after everything….

  I knew my mom was in the house; I could hear the faint echo of her voice, though I couldn’t quite place it exactly. Maybe she was the kitchen—on the phone with someone? As I tried to focus more, I realized she sounded distressed. Sitting up, I tried to listen harder.

  “All right, I’ll be there.”

  I rubbed my eyes and pushed the blankets off of me. Seconds later, Mom was knocking on Josh’s bedroom door. I waited, holding my breath, to see what was going on. Something didn’t feel right.

  “Josh, are you awake?” Mom knocked again on his door until he opened it. Josh’s groggy voice was muffled and I couldn’t hear exactly what mom was saying to him. I got out of bed, leaving my phone behind. Just as I opened my door, my mom had been lifting her hand to knock.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, pulling my knotty hair into a ponytail. I couldn’t tell by my mom’s expression if she was sad, scared, or angry, but she was definitely one of the three. My stomach clenched.

  “Your dad’s work just called. Apparently, there’s been some sort of accident. He hit his head. He’s on the way to the ER in town. He’s probably fine, but…” She looked to Josh and then back to me.

  Dad. Dad was hurt.

  “I didn’t know if you kids wanted to come along or not. If so, we need to go now.”

  The last time my dad had needed to go to the ER, my mom had arrived too late, and he had already been cleared by the doctor and returned to work. Thankfully, it hadn’t been anything serious. But my dad hadn’t ever let my mom forget about that incident.

  I peered at Josh over my mom’s shoulder and we both seemed to silently agree to go with her. I went back to my room, grabbing clean clothes from my closet. I shoved my cellphone into my jeans pocket as I tugged my sweatshirt down.

  “Ready to go?” Mom called to the both of us. Josh was the first to reply with a “Yeah.”

  “Coming,” I shouted, shoving my feet into my winter boots. Socks were for losers anyway. Josh and
I followed my mom out to the car. We were quiet as we drove to Grand Lakes General Hospital. Snow was piled on the side of the road, and I couldn’t help but notice it had lost its luster. It looked dirty—stained.

  “I’m sure Dad is fine,” Josh said, as mom parked the car in the hospital ER parking lot. She looked at us and nodded. I let out a sigh. There was a tightening coil in my stomach and it was making it hard to breathe.

  “I’m sure you’re right. They only said he hit his head. I guess we’ll have to tease him about being clumsy,” Mom replied.

  Dad was never clumsy, so I couldn’t find reassurance in their words. I couldn’t even remember the last time I had heard about or saw my dad fall. Not since that one other time at work, years ago. I felt hesitant as I emerged from the car and looked up over the towering building. The sun was just beginning to rise in the sky; it was going to be a beautiful January day, despite the cold.

  The three of us walked into the ER wing of the hospital, bypassing the few older people sitting in chairs. There were several patients holding Styrofoam coffee cups as they stared at the small—but too loud—TV in the corner of the room. By the redness of some of their noses, it was apparent only a few were sick, while the rest seemed to be waiting…for something. But I didn’t know for what.

  As soon as my mom gave her name and information, one of the attending nurses took us out of the ER wing and down a narrow hallway. Was my dad already in one of the rooms, being treated? My heart began to pound. I had seen too many Hollywood movies where families were taken back to waiting rooms and told that their loved ones were gone. I dashed the thought away, refusing to acknowledge the possibility. As I glanced at Josh and my mom, neither one seemed as panicked as I felt.

  “Are they taking us to his room?” I asked, taking a few extra strides to catch up with my mom’s quick ones. The attending nurse motioned toward a small waiting room and gave us a strange, sad smile. The room was carpeted, and had wooden chairs, lined with a dark blue fabric on the seat.