To Be Your Last

by Rae Kennedy

  “Hey. I thought we were supposed to be skinny dipping.”

  We turn to Dean, who is stripping down at the edge of the deep end. He’s shirtless, undoing his belt. I can see that he has pierced nipples and a couple more tattoos on his ribs.

  “If I'm not mistaken, you two are both still wearing clothes.” Then he pulls down his pants, and either he goes commando or his underwear went down with them because he’s buck ass naked. It’s dark and I turn away quickly, so I don’t see much. No, I saw it. I totally saw Dean’s penis. It was just for a second but the unmistakable glint of moonlight on metal is all I needed to see to know that he’s pierced down there as well.

  Water cascades over us as he jumps into the pool with a crash, and we bob up and down as waves undulate through the pool. We swim around for a bit, but mostly tread water. I’m finally acclimated to the temperature when Logan gets a scheming look on his face and dives into the water. I can barely make out his dark figure under the surface as he heads straight for me. He swims between my legs and his fingers wrap around my knees as he pops up under me. I’m now straddling his shoulders as he breaks through the water.

  I’m exposed to the cool air and instantly freezing in my bra and panties. Good thing it’s dark. Even though I’ve always been active and fit and never self-conscious of my body, I’ve also never been mostly undressed in front of two hot rock stars either. Day two and they’ve already seen me in my underwear. I guess Kyla did know what she was talking about. But I’m also grateful I’m not wearing one of the tiny thongs she packed.

  “Ready?” Logan asks.

  “For what?”

  “Three, two, one!”

  Logan launches me up in the air and I let out a surprised scream. I fly halfway across the pool, flipping in the air and landing sideways back in the water. I come back up, wiping wet hair out of my face and dripping water from my eyes. Logan wades over to me and we smile at each other. I move a little closer.

  “Hey guys.” Dean points toward the street where a car is passing. “I’m pretty sure that’s a police cruiser. Maybe we should call it.”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  We climb out of the pool. Shivering, we run to where our clothes are scattered around the pool deck just as the car turns this direction, the bright headlights shining directly on us, the overhead light bar unmistakable.

  “Shit.”

  We scramble to grab our clothes and shoes. We run to the other side of the pool, away from the cop, and throw our stuff over the fence. Logan jumps up, giving me his hand as Dean gives me a boost from below and we go toppling over the fence, Logan landing on his back with a thud and me falling on top of him.

  “Ope.” I awkwardly giggle as I place both hands flat on his chest—his damp, naked chest—to push myself off him.

  Logan smiles at me in the dark and I forget for a second how cold I am.

  “Let’s go,” Dean says as we get up.

  We snatch our clothes again, hugging them close to our bodies, and we run.

  We go behind the pool building and down the street, behind dark buildings between alleyways and parking lots, staying in the shadows. I don’t even notice that I’m wet and freezing or that I’m not wearing shoes on dirty, uneven pavement. We finally stop, hiding between two dumpsters behind a chiropractor’s office, and my heart is beating so fast. But I’m smiling. We all break into nervous laughter as we catch our breath and get dressed.

  I see way too much of Dean’s ass as he hops into his jeans, and Logan gives me his shirt to dry off with.

  “Thanks.” I hand him back his damp shirt and quickly get on my T-shirt and shorts.

  My feet sting as I slip them into my shoes but we’re finally all dressed—except for Logan’s shirt. I see dark tribal patterns just above the waistband of Logan’s jeans.

  “Oh my god, Logan, you have a tramp stamp?”

  He shrugs and chuckles a little. “Yeah—”

  The beam of a flashlight sweeps over the alley near us.

  “Shit.”

  Logan reaches for me. “Come on.”

  We run up the street holding hands, Dean just behind us. I'm simultaneously panicking and the most excited I’ve ever been. The thought of being caught is scary and thrilling, and I’m smiling so wide my cheeks hurt. I’ve never felt so wild. So free.

  “This way.”

  We follow Dean, sneaking alongside a few houses to a little grassy clearing that’s nearly invisible from the road. It overlooks a valley beyond the town, and we sit, exhausted and out of breath. All of the blood and adrenaline pumping through my body has me feeling hot, but I’m still shivering. The boys notice and each scoot closer to me so that I’m shoulder-to-shoulder with both of them in a twin sandwich.

  “Well, we can definitely cross skinny-dipping off the list now,” Logan says.

  “And trespassing...and running from the cops...” Dean adds.

  “Yeah, this list rocks.”

  I smile at Logan. “You keep talking about this list like it’s a real thing.”

  “It should be. You wanted to run away and have an adventure. See and do new things, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So, let’s write it down. What do you want to experience this summer? Let’s make it happen.”

  I look out in the distance where the sun is starting to peek over the majestic rock formations that dot the landscape. The sunrise is beautiful, and we sit and watch as yellow rays of light kiss the ground and the sky is painted a soft lilac.

  “You’ll have to help me come up with the list. I’d hardly know where to start.”

  “I think we can manage.” Dean bumps me playfully with his shoulder.

  As the sun gets higher, I can already feel its warmth on my face.

  This is going to be the summer of Fun Gracie, and it starts right now.

  CHAPTER 7

  “Oh my god, yes!” I’m already salivating as we open the to-go boxes Colin and Joey got for us from Denny’s. We dig in, sitting on the cold, hard concrete curb in the parking lot of the car repair shop at seven in the morning. I don’t even care that the food is lukewarm. It’s freaking amazing. My entire container of pancakes, eggs, and bacon is covered in maple syrup and I scarf it down with my plastic spork greedily. It’s the most I’ve eaten at one sitting in months.

  When the food is gone I wish there was more. It’s amazing to have an appetite again.

  Colin comes out of the shop at around seven-thirty and says the van is just about ready. He’s changed clothes, now wearing a charcoal gray T-shirt that looks super soft and black ripped jeans.

  By eight, we’re ready to hit the road again. Joey opens the back of the van for me so I can get to my bag. I slip out my little notebook from the side pocket, feeling the worn, buttery leather in my hand. It’s pink with gold embossed polka dots and my initials, GLG. I’m so distracted by my favorite notebook that I don’t even realize until the engine turns over that Logan is in the driver’s seat. And I have slid up next to Colin in the middle seat.

  He’s looking out the window, his tattooed hand resting lightly on his knee. He’s taking no mind of me—I’m insignificant. But his energy is huge. It takes up the whole seat and I feel like I’m sitting too close. Too late to move now, though.

  I flip quickly through my notebook, skipping over pages covered in my little scribbles, musings, and scratched out verses. Colin glances my way, eyeing my notebook, and I hurry to a blank page, not wanting him to see any of the words I’ve written.

  I swallow hard and grip my pen. “Okay, guys. What should I put on my summer bucket list?”

  “Nah, not a bucket list. That makes it sound like you’re dying. It’s your fuck-it list,” Logan says from up front.

  I write Gracie’s Fuck-It List on top of the page and make several bullet points. I write skinny-dipping and running from the cops and then cross them off. Then I write go to rock concert and get tattoo.

  Logan and Dean shout out ideas, most of them silly, but I write down
a few. Smoke a joint. Get drunk. Kiss a stranger.

  “You want to get anything pierced?” Dean asks.

  “Hmm...maybe.”

  I write it down.

  I read over the list. Satisfied, I close it, secure it with the elastic band, and tuck it under the seat. The thought of doing half the things on the list is terrifying, and it feels strangely exhilarating. Liberating.

  I can’t wipe the smile off my face. I’m tired and happy and my belly is full. The morning sunlight streaming in through the windows reminds me I’ve been awake over sixteen hours, and my eyelids are heavy. I roll to my side and rest my head against the seat, careful to face away from Colin and give him as much space as I can. Even out of my sight, I can sense his presence, and I swear I can feel his eyes on me as I curl up and try to sleep.

  * * *

  My face is pressed against soft cotton and I’m surrounded by warmth, an arm wrapped around me and the unmistakable rise and fall of a broad male chest beneath my cheek. Logan is being extra cuddly, I guess. I nuzzle deeper into the space between his shoulder and pec. He smells good.

  He smells...different.

  I blink against the light. I’m clutching a dark gray shirt, Colin’s heavily tattooed arm wrapped across my shoulders.

  Holy shit. I’m lying on Colin. I move to sit up, but his arms tighten around me and he lets out a breathy whimper. His eyes are closed, brows furrowed in his sleep. I lay back down on his chest and his hold eases, his face softening.

  I hold still. How the heck did we end up like this? Colin is partially reclined, his head and shoulders propped against the seat and armrest. I’m on my side, somehow wedged between him and the seat. It’s actually the most comfortable I’ve been while trying to sleep in the van this whole trip. My back doesn’t ache and my neck isn’t stiff.

  I carefully slide my phone out of my back pocket. It’s almost one in the afternoon. I haven’t even been asleep for five hours yet. I should try to go back—but do I sit up? Change positions? I glance up and Logan is sleeping in the front passenger seat while Dean drives. I catch Dean’s eye in the mirror and he gives me a knowing smile with a shrug.

  I don’t move. I just listen to the sound of Colin’s steady heartbeat at my temple until it lulls me away.

  * * *

  Buzz buzz.

  The quick vibrations against my rear pull me out of my hazy white dream world and back into the hot van. I’m still lying across Colin, my hand rests on his stomach and I can feel his hard abs under his thin shirt.

  Buzz buzz.

  Oh yeah—my phone.

  I don’t want to move, though. I’m so comfortable actually lying down. Not quite as cozy as earlier—and I realize it’s because Colin’s arms aren’t wrapped around me anymore. I glance up at him and I. Am. Horrified.

  He’s awake.

  He’s not looking at me, but at his phone in his hand, his other arm bent behind his head.

  I sit up quickly and smooth my hair out of my face. Dean is still driving. Logan is curled up in the front, and Joey is snoring in the back.

  “Sorry,” I say. “I would have moved.”

  Colin’s gaze shifts from his screen to my face, which is now heating exponentially with every second his dark blue eyes are on me.

  “I wasn’t going to wake you up. It’s fine.” He turns back to his phone, face unreadable, and pays me no more attention.

  I pull my phone out of my pocket to see it’s after four in the afternoon.

  Kyla: Girl. If you think I was joking about hunting you down then all our years of friendship have been a lie

  Gah. I ask Dean where we are.

  Me: Sorry! I’m fine, we’re in Nevada

  “We’ll be getting into LA late, or early if you want to be technical. Then our first show is tomorrow night,” Dean adds.

  “Wow, so soon?”

  Dean nods. Soon, Logan starts stretching and yawning as he blinks awake and we stop at the next town to eat. The boys are all so cute. Logan gives me a hand out of the van and opens doors for me, Joey grabs me the last “good” gas station burrito, and Dean buys me another pack of fuzzy navels along with a couple of books of crossword and sudoku puzzles for when I’m bored. Colin is outside pacing the sidewalk, on the phone with their manager, Rick, probably explaining why we’re getting into town the morning of their first show instead of the night before as planned.

  After gassing up, Joey gets in the driver’s seat and I jump in the middle after Logan. Colin finally walks over after finishing his call. He opens the door next to me, stepping up and then halting when he sees Logan in the seat with me. I swear, for a second annoyance flashes on his face. But then it’s stoic once again and he shuffles to the back seat.

  After several hours, it’s getting dark outside. During a lull in conversation, Logan claps his hands.

  “We’ve been so cooped up. Let’s have some music! Wolfe, can I borrow your guitar?” Logan turns behind us to Colin. “Please?”

  Colin lets out a sigh but reaches behind the seat. “Fine.” Behind Logan’s red electric guitar case is a bigger black one. He opens it and gingerly takes out a black acoustic guitar and hands it to Logan. It’s decorated with beautiful wood inlays in an intricate geometric pattern.

  Logan touches the knobs and plucks a couple of the strings.

  “It’s tuned,” Colin says flatly.

  “Okay, okay. Just checking.”

  Logan nestles the guitar in his lap and plays the first unmistakable chords to “Sweet Child O’ Mine” by Guns ‘n’ Roses. Joey taps out a beat against the steering wheel and we all join in to sing the lyrics—except Colin, who’s inexplicably quiet with his arms folded. Logan and Dean aren’t terrible singers, but they definitely can’t hit the high notes. They just end up yelling those lines and laughing hysterically afterward. I finish singing one of the verses by myself while they’re busy chuckling, holding a particularly long note.

  Logan, still strumming the guitar, smiles lopsided at me.

  “You have a really pretty singing voice, you know that?”

  “Yeah, thanks.” I’ve always loved singing. “I grew up singing in church and I was Maria in our eighth grade production of The Sound of Music, so...”

  Logan continues to play, filling the car with music as Dean and Joey call out requests. I sing along to the songs I know, but he also plays many I’ve never heard before.

  “Hey, you haven’t sung to the last few. You pick the next one.”

  Suddenly, I know no songs. Like, can’t even conjure up one tune. My mind blanks on anything cool. Shit. I listen to a lot of country music—they probably don’t. I refrain from requesting Taylor Swift.

  “Hmm... Maybe something by Adele?”

  Logan scratches along his jaw, thinking. “I don’t know—"

  “I got it.” Colin’s deep voice cuts in from the back.

  He takes the guitar from Logan, and looking down with intensity, begins to play. Then quietly he sings the first lines of “Rolling in the Deep.” I’m staring at his mouth as the words pour out of him. His voice is at once soothing and heartbreaking, gorgeous and raw. Chills move down my spine to my toes. And then I sing with him, soft at first. He raises his head and our eyes lock as we sing the chorus together, our voices combine, getting louder, stronger. My voice is saccharine to his grit. Perfectly balanced.

  I'm out of breath when he strums the last notes.

  “We’re coming up on it, guys,” Joey says and we all look forward. As we crest a hill the black expanse outside the windshield gives way to a seemingly endless tapestry of lights. They blanket the valley and climb up the surrounding hills. Lights emanate from tall buildings and move across extensive freeway systems like blood coursing through veins and arteries, feeding the giant city.

  Los Angeles.

  “Wow,” is all I manage to say.

  * * *

  It takes almost two hours to get to where we’re supposed to meet their manager. Correction—where they are supposed to meet
him. I am to stay hidden away in the van after Colin reminds all of us I’m not supposed to be here. Their meeting lasts over an hour, and I’m tired but too nervous to sleep alone in the van while parked in downtown Los Angeles. I text Kyla to let her know we made it. Honestly, the book of sudoku puzzles Dean got for me comes in quite handy.

  “Let’s get to the fuckin’ bus!” Logan says as the guys all clamor back in.

  It’s at least another hour of driving—most of it sitting in traffic—until we get to the venue of tonight’s show, where the bus is already parked around back.

  A couple of burly dudes in tight black shirts come out of absolutely nowhere and help unload the van, moving bags and suitcases to the bus and taking any equipment and instruments inside with them.

  The bus is enormous. The outside is black and silver, and the interior is cream-colored leather and funky patterned carpet. Inside is tight with a small kitchenette and a little table surrounded by banquet seating. Everything is accented with black and this marbled faux-wood and lit with rows of lights along the floor and ceiling. The driver’s cab is completely blocked off for privacy, and the back of the bus is the sleeping quarters. There are six bunks stacked, each with their own little window and privacy curtain. The bunks look small, not even as wide as a twin mattress, but we’re all exhausted, and after sleeping in a van for three days, we might as well be in a five-star resort.

  We all sleepily claim our bunks and pass out on the cool, dark bus.

  * * *

  “Hey.”

  I peek one eye open to see half of Logan’s face peering at me from where he’s peeled back my privacy curtain.

  “Sorry, you can go back to sleep. I wanted to let you know we’re heading out. We have to go do a rehearsal, then some media interviews, then sound check before the show tonight.” He hands me a badge with my name under the words Wicked Road VIP. “This will get you in anywhere you want. There’s also a shower you can use back by our dressing room.”

  “This is so cool, thank you. I’m excited for the show.” Not going to lie, I may be more excited for the shower.

  “I’m actually a little nervous to play tonight, knowing we’ll be taking your rock concert virginity. I feel pressure to make sure it’s good for you.” He gives me a little wink and I promptly feel myself blush.