Daisies & Devin

by Kelsey Kingsley

  Or, better yet, swap the hammer for my guitar. The shit I could build with some lyrics and a melody was way more impressive than anything I could do with a jigsaw.

  One of the other crew members turned on a radio and cranked up the volume. Van Halen’s “Why Can’t This Be Love” floated through the stagnant summer air, along with the sawdust, and my shoulders immediately moved in time with the electric guitar.

  Every task should be done to the tune of a killer power ballad. This is a fact.

  Thoughts of Kylie momentarily drifted along with the lyrics. The coffee she brought me from the shop while I was working late. How she hung around for a little while, helping me to hang some sheetrock in one of the other rooms of the house.

  Trent held up another beam, pulling me from my reverie as he put it to the framework. I pulled my mallet from my toolbelt as I sang along to a song that helped me clean my bedroom, more times than I can count.

  “So, when you jerk off while listening to music, does your fist move to the tune, or do you just save that for this shit?” Trent quipped, teasing me as the hammer smacked the beam into place to the beat of the base drum.

  “Suck my dick,” I laughed, slipping the mallet back into its loop and grabbing the nail gun, holding it out to him. “You want to do the honors, or do I have to do everything today?”

  He yawned, stretching an arm out. “You got this. I’m exhausted. Brooke had me up late last night.”

  I grumbled my acknowledgment. “Yeah. I heard.”

  “Hey, I had to show her what a real man can do after she went on a date the other night with some prick from New Canaan.”

  They’d been dating almost exclusively since 2006, but every now and then, one of them went on a random date to prove they were still too cool for ironclad commitment. The whole thing was ridiculous in my opinion, but I kept my mouth shut.

  What could I say when I’d been secretly pining over the same woman for years?

  With a sigh, I stepped forward and Trent held the beam steady. I crouched to the floor, got the gun ready and positioned it at the base of the wood, when Trent nudged the sole of my boot with his toe. I looked up to him curiously and saw him tip his chin toward the door. As I turned my head, my heart sped up to a gallop in the way it did whenever she was around.

  A few of the other guys whistled as they walked by, carrying lumber and power tools, and Kylie rolled her eyes in response. They were only teasing her, and she knew it.

  They knew better than to trespass on what they saw as my territory.

  “Classy,” she berated, shaking her head at them as she walked my way. She smiled at us and said, “Hey guys.”

  “Hey Ky,” Trent said with a nod of his head.

  “What’re you doing here?” I asked, lifting a brow.

  “Well, I got off work early, so I thought I’d be nice and bring you lunch,” she said, lifting her arm.

  I caught sight of the bag in her hand. “What’d you bring me?” I asked, pulling my safety glasses off as I stood up.

  “A grinder from the deli,” she said. “And a soda.”

  Taking it from her, I groaned my approval. “You’re too good to me.”

  “Are you guys meeting up with us at Black & Brewed tonight?” Trent asked for the fifth time that day, and I flashed Kylie a look I hoped said how much he was getting on my nerves.

  “Wait, you guys wanted to meet up with us?” she asked. “I mean, Brooke only mentioned it about six times since she got into work.”

  “I’m just reminding you,” he mumbled with a sigh, before yawning again. “I have to piss and grab some food. I’ll be back,” and with that, he slapped my back and walked from the room, leaving us alone.

  I placed the bag on a workbench and opened it up. Instantly, I was hit with the scent of warm roast beef and melted mozzarella. My stomach growled, and I pulled the warm sandwich out of the bag. I turned to Kylie and held it up.

  “You want half?”

  “You’re offering?” she asked, nearly knocking me on my ass with her smile.

  “I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t,” I laughed, setting it down and unwrapping the foil.

  She came to stand at my side and grabbed for one end of the sandwich. Aerosmith’s “Walk This Way” traveled from the radio speakers and I hummed as I took a bite, and I was struck with an idea.

  “Hold on a sec,” I said, placing the sandwich down on the foil. I grabbed a couple folding chairs and put them up to the worktable. “Here, sit,” and I dropped down to one chair and patted the seat of the other.

  “God, such a gentleman,” she said, sitting down. “You share, and you give me a place to sit.”

  “I try,” I said with a chuckle, and then couldn’t resist the urge to play the air guitar along with that memorable guitar riff before grabbing my half of the grinder. “God, this is a great song.”

  “Yeah, it is,” she replied, nodding. “Hey! That’s what you should do. You should find yourself a cover band and play weddings or something. You’d pick up lots of dates at those things.”

  I grunted a laugh, and with a mouthful of sandwich said, “Oh yeah, can you imagine? Me playing in a suit?” I gestured down to my spackle-stained, sheetrock-dusted jeans. “God, I can’t even picture myself with a band.”

  She shrugged. “Things change. You might find you like it. Comradery and all that.”

  “Well, I certainly wouldn’t be in one of those bands that demands I wear any kind of uniform, so a wedding band is off the table. Nobody’s telling me what the hell to wear.”

  “Oh, come on,” she said with a taunting grin. “You look good in a suit. All of your groupies would be all over you.”

  “Groupies,” I laughed again, rolling my eyes. “You mean drunk bridesmaids.”

  “Same thing,” she said with a jump of her brows before taking a bite.

  Steven Tyler faded into the iconic guitar solo at the beginning of Metallica’s “One.” I tipped my head back, closing my eyes and taking it in as I ate.

  The bag from the deli crinkled and the cap of a bottle was twisted off, so I asked, “Are you drinking my soda?”

  “Oh, uh … no. Just opening it for you,” Kylie said as though she’d been caught red-handed.

  “You can have some,” I said, smiling and taking another bite.

  She drank and put the bottle on the table as the song really kicked off. My fingers tapped around the sandwich in time with the masterful riffs and chord changes, and they itched to be on the strings of my guitar.

  “You have to get out of here Dev,” Kylie said quietly, and I opened my eyes.

  “Oh, yeah? And how would I pay my bills?” I challenged her with the question as I reached for the Dr. Pepper and put it to my lips. I took a sip, unsuccessfully keeping my mind from the fact that her lips had been there too.

  “Your music would pay the bills,” she said, pinning her eyes to mine. “A hell of a lot more than your gigs at Black & Brewed.”

  I scoffed. “We both know that playing at a stupid little coffee shop isn’t a gig, Kylie,” I countered, putting the bottle down.

  That comment brought her chewing to slow to a crawl. Her jaw working angrily around the bite of sandwich, and she shook her head. That place was her pride and joy, the place we built from the ground up. I knew better than to insult it.

  I tipped my chin to my chest and sighed. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Yeah, it is, but first of all, it isn’t a little coffee shop, and second of all, Benjamin Franklin was a freakin’ street performer. Did you know that?”

  I shook my head, watching her chew until her jaw was practically screaming for her to stop. “Nah, I didn’t know that.”

  “Well, he was. He would sing songs and recite poetry, and do you know what he went on to do?”

  “Uh … Everything?” I laughed.

  “Exactly. So, if performing on the streets was good enough for freakin’ Ben Franklin, then performing in my little coffee shop is good enough for
you.”

  I pressed my lips together in a straight line for a moment to let her frustration dissipate, and when her arms weren’t so tense, I nodded. “No, you’re right, and I didn’t mean that it wasn’t good enough. It’s just that it’s your dream. You’re living it, and I’m just riding the coattails with my shitty guitar, hoping I’ll catch my big break.”

  “Well,” she said, her lips curling into a smile, “I’ve had one dream come true, so who says I can’t have another one?”

  “And what would that be?”

  “To say that I knew you before you were famous,” she said, reaching over to playfully tug the bill of my baseball cap down over my eyes.

  On the outside, I rolled my eyes and brushed her off, readjusting my cap and allowing myself to grin.

  On the inside, I was screaming and wishing I had just kissed her on the side of that lake years ago. To make the only dream I had left come true.

  “You know,” she said, continuing, “it’s like … like watching a caged bird sometimes.”

  I looked to her with amusement and the slightest bit of confusion as Dire Strait’s began to sing “Money for Nothing.” Good song. Fucking amazing actually.

  “A caged bird?” I repeated, unable to say it without laughing.

  She nodded thoughtfully. “Poe has this quote—”

  “Of course he does,” I said gently, unable to keep the affection away from my tone. God, I loved it when she quoted Poe, her security blanket.

  She laughed and lightly shoved against me “Shut up you ass. He said, ‘I remained too much inside my head and ended up losing my mind.’ You remind me of that quote, and like a caged bird. You have this talent and these ambitions all bottled up inside you, and you don’t let them out. I’m worried that, if you never release them, you’re going to resent everything. Yourself, this job … me …”

  I heard her, and I knew what she was saying. But, the only thing I found bottled up inside was the overflowing amount of love I possessed for her. And if anything was going to make me lose my mind, it was that.

  “I could never resent you,” was all I said, and I tipped my head back against the chair and let Dire Straits carry me through the rest of lunch.

  ♪

  “We wanted to wait to say anything …” Brooke said, sitting across from me at the round wooden table. Trent sat to one side of me, and the seat on the other side was empty. Waiting.

  My head lifted at the sight of Kylie carrying a tray of iced teas to the table. Her vibrant violet hair was a nest of coiled curls piled on top of her head in a way that looked so haphazardly perfect. One tendril hung alongside her cheek and as she sat down, I forced my fingers to curl into a fist, to keep myself from reaching out and touching it. To tuck it behind her ear, or wrap it around my finger.

  “Okay? So? What’s up?” Kylie asked. She glanced at me, her impatience evident amongst the sparkles of blue in her eyes, and I chuckled.

  “Seriously,” I agreed. “I’m fucking beat. I still have to drive home, I need to sleep, and you assholes are keeping me up past my bedtime.”

  Trent leaned back in his chair to glare at me. “Fuck you, man. I worked the same amount of hours as you today.”

  “Yeah, well … I’m older,” I pointed out with a smug jump of my brows. “And I did all the work, remember?”

  “Yeah, whatever,” he groaned with an incredulous shake of his head before wrapping an arm around Brooke’s shoulders. “Devin’s gonna turn into a pumpkin babe, we have to hurry this shit up.”

  Brooke snuggled herself against Trent’s side, and tipped her head back to take him in. “Do you wanna tell them, or should I?”

  “You can do the honors,” he said, grabbing his glass of iced tea, and with more excitement than I’ve ever seen her demonstrate, Brooke turned to face us, clapped her hands and exclaimed, “We’re moving in together!”

  My hand stopped on its way to my glass. “What?”

  Trent nodded. “Yeah, we’ve been looking at some houses. Brooke’s pushing for a fixer-upper, so I think that’s what we’re gonna go for.”

  I wanted to express more happiness than I felt. “Uh, when were you gonna—”

  I was cut off by Kylie’s girly squeals erupting beside me, as she jumped up, synchronizing perfectly with Brooke, and the two of them grasped hands and jumped around on the spot. A rousing chorus of “oh my God, oh my God” commenced as I stared disbelieving at my cousin, one of my closest friends.

  The fucking traitor.

  All of that shit about resentment before, well …

  I resented him then.

  “I am so excited for you!” Kylie enthused, wrapping her arms around Brooke, squeezing her tight as I swirled my straw in slow circles around the glass. “Oh my God, this is amazing!”

  “I know!” Brooke didn’t even try for modesty as she finally pulled herself from Kylie’s death grip, and sat back down. “Ky, I’m so sorry I didn’t say anything. I mean, the apartment and all … I feel like this is screwing you over, but—”

  “No, no! You have to do what’s right for you!” Kylie encouraged, sitting down and reaching across the table to grasp Brooke’s hands.

  And as Kylie continued to encourage Brooke, I wished I could be as enthusiastic about being left high and dry.

  ♪

  “I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do,” I groaned, wiping a hand over my mouth.

  “Cheer up, buckaroo. It’s not so bad,” Kylie said, folding her legs underneath herself on the couch. “I’m more confused about how this is going to fit into their open lifestyle.”

  I looked toward her TV, Friday the 13th was playing and I ignored her comment. Despite my need for sleep, she had invited me over after the unexpected announcement to watch a movie, but I couldn’t focus. Nor could I laugh at her sarcastic joke. All I could think about was my cousin ditching me.

  “It’s not the same,” I grumbled, shaking my head. “You can afford this place by yourself, but what the hell am I going to find in two weeks in my price range? I have some money in the bank, but after buying the new truck, there isn’t much left in there. We were supposed to renew the lease, but no, Trent had to go ahead and fuck me over.”

  She propped her chin in her palm. “I know, Dev. But, I mean, he just wants to get on with his life, you know? You can’t expect him to live with you in that apartment forever,” she said gently, wincing her sympathies.

  There was an irony there somewhere, if I dug long enough. Something about me being the reason Trent knew Brooke in the first place. Something about me never being able to get on with my life, because I was too busy with …

  Well, pretending I didn’t have feelings for someone when I very, very much did.

  “He could’ve given me a little more notice. That’s all I’m saying. He didn’t have to go ahead and do this shit behind my back.”

  “I’ll give you that.” She nodded. “Both of them should’ve said something, but … it’s going to be fine.”

  She said it, but the fact of the matter was, I didn’t know how it could be. The only way Trent and I were affording the apartment, was with both of our paychecks. Without him, I was royally fucked. With only two weeks left to renew the lease on the place, I knew I couldn’t swing it alone, and that left me with very little time to find myself into another apartment.

  Kylie squeezed my shoulder reassuringly before climbing off the couch and walking into her kitchen. I listened to the faucet as I tipped my head back against the couch. My hands covered my face and I tried to encourage my brain to relax and accept that things would turn out the way they were supposed to. They always did. But, fucking hell, sometimes life throws us lemons and you’re all out of sugar to make that lemonade.

  The faucet shut off abruptly and Kylie walked into the living room. “Devin.”

  I dropped my hands from my face, taking in the sight of her in that tight little tank top, and those fucking shorts that should’ve been illegal. The daisies tattooed to her thigh,
the elegantly scrolled ink of black and grey over her forearm. Lastly, the portrait of Edgar Allan Poe encased in raven wings on her bicep.

  I bit my inner lip and urged my hormones to calm the hell down. I had a date coming up that weekend, I just had to make it until then.

  Not that it ever helped.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  She climbed onto the arm of the couch, perched next to me, and clasped her hands over her knees. “Move in with me.”

  I blinked my response for one, two, three beats of my pounding heart, before I shook my head. “Wait, what?”

  Kylie nodded enthusiastically, dropping herself into my lap. My gasp was audible, and I prayed I could keep my body under control. “Move in with me! I have an empty room now, and I’d even cut you a deal on the rent. I mean, it’s the least I could do for the amount of work you’ve done on the coffee shop—”

  “I own part of that coffee shop though.”

  “I know that, but Dev, you need a place to go and I have a room. You can stay here as long as you need to, until you find your own place.”

  The idea of living with her was by all accounts a bad one. It was torment, it was torture. It would serve as the most evil of deeds paid to my body and heart, being even closer, and still so fucking far from making anything work between us. Because I had waited too long. It was never the right time. She was my best friend and I didn’t want to destroy a good thing with feelings and sex.

  The reasons were endless.

  But she was right; I needed a place to go. I was desperate, and I knew I could move in right away.

  “I swear I’m a good roommate,” she said, smiling sweetly and laying her head on my shoulder. “You can ask Brooke, if you want. She’d vouch for me.”

  And to my heart’s disappointment, I nodded. “Okay.”

  “Okay?” She lifted her head almost as soon as she had laid it down, and I missed the weight immediately.

  “I’ll move in,” and those three words served as the biggest fuck you to my heart as she threw her arms around my neck, and I began to lose my mind.