Falling for Forever (Before Forever)

by Melissa Chambers

“As a matter of fact, I have one in our formal living room. Would you like to see?”

  My dad beams. “God, yes.”

  She starts to lead us away.

  “Do you want to go ahead and get started?” Miles asks me.

  I nod and then wrap my arms around my dad. “Bye. Have a good show.”

  “I will, sweetie, thanks.”

  I squeeze him to me as hard as I can without breaking his ribs. “I love you so much.”

  He chuckles, clearly uncomfortable with my PDA, but too bad. I know he secretly loves it.

  I pull away, and Annette gives me a curious look, like she’s just witnessed the birth of a puppy or a unicorn. I follow Miles up the stairs.

  “Keep the door open,” his mom calls out to us.

  “Mom,” he scolds.

  “Don’t worry,” I say. “I’ll try to keep my hands to myself.”

  Annette’s eyebrows crease together as she forces a laugh. Dad gives me a stern warning glance.

  When we’re out of their sight, Miles turns around. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

  “What are you, eighty? Get a sense of humor.”

  He shakes his head and leads me down a hallway filled with expensive-looking art and pictures of him and what must be his brother throughout their childhood. He shows me into his bedroom. A whole wall is made up of bookshelves, filled with hardbacks, his bed nestled in the center of it covered in a navy-blue comforter. Something about seeing where he lies down every night puts a little tingle in my stomach.

  I toss up my hands and let them fall to my sides. “All right. Let’s knock this out. Do you have some songs picked?”

  “Yeah.” He fumbles with his phone, and I wonder if he’s a little nervous. “Do you?”

  “Yeah.” I look around. “Where should we sit?”

  “We can sit on my bed,” he says.

  I sit, and a strange rush washes over me. It’s really weird sitting on his bed where he sleeps…and probably has done other things.

  He sits on the other side and just looks at me, like I’m not really here to pick songs. I hold his gaze, but not in a gooey way, in a you better get your shit together, asshole, kind of way.

  “Jenna?” he asks.

  “What?”

  “Can we talk?”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Miles

  Jenna smooths out the comforter in front of her with her hand. “Actually, no, we can’t. If we can get this done in a hurry, I’m going to Uber to Green Hills and catch my dad’s show.” She looks at her phone. “Actually, if we can make this really quick, I’ll catch a ride with him now, so…” She motions for me to get on with it.

  I deserve that and more, I guess. And I had the balls to think she got all dressed up for me. She’s just trying to get past me so she can go out.

  She looks so different with her hair pulled straight. When I walked down the stairs and saw her standing there with her hair so perfectly done and that outfit on, I almost didn’t recognize her. She usually wears those legging things and long shirts, or jeans but with baggie sweaters and Chuck Taylors or TOMS.

  I almost lost my balance on those stairs. She looks hot as hell.

  I flip through my phone and pull up the playlist I’ve made and then meet her gaze. “Do you want to go first?”

  She shrugs noncommittally. “You can.”

  I play her a song I picked out. It’s not my favorite. We’re still getting warmed up. I don’t want to shoot the moon too soon. She listens, but I can tell by the way her brow is worried she’s not into it.

  “Okay, let me try another one.”

  I pull up another song, and she listens, sort of bobbing her head. She nods. “This one’s fine.”

  I drop my posture. “Fine is not good enough. Let me find another one.”

  She glances at the door like she’s bored.

  I let out an irritated breath. “Just…you’re not here right now. Your head’s down at the Bluebird. This isn’t going to work.”

  She shrugs. “Then put me here.”

  I blink, trying to understand what she means. I look around my room and then back at her. “Okay. Don’t move.”

  She picks her phone up and starts to scroll. I grab it from her.

  “Hey,” she says, reaching for it.

  “You need to be present with me, nobody else. Understood?”

  She furrows her brow, but she doesn’t look pissed. “Bossy,” she says.

  I put her phone on my desk, out of her reach, and then find my black light that I haven’t used since freshman year. I set it up but don’t turn it on yet. I find a couple of candles from my pyro stage when I used to burn them and then let the wax mix together to make all kinds of cool colors. I light one and put it on my nightstand, then I light the other and put it on a shelf on the other side of my bed. I shut the door and turn out the light, and then hit the black light. The room illuminates blue, and the night sky I painted on my ceiling comes to life.

  I make my way back to my seat on the bed and gaze at her in this new, intimate lighting. “Does this help?” I ask.

  She glances up at the ceiling sky and then around at the rest of the room, which really does seem pretty moody and mysterious. She sets her gaze on mine and gives the slightest of shrugs.

  I sit with my legs crossed and motion her to me. “Sit here with me.”

  “I am sitting.”

  “You’ve got one leg on the floor like you’re ready to leave. Sit here with me, across from me…for the assignment.”

  She stares at me warily and then takes her boots off. She pulls her leg up onto the bed and then mimics the way I’m sitting so our knees are almost touching.

  I move closer so our knees do touch, and she scoots back. I lower my chin. “I’ve kissed you. Now I can’t touch your knees?”

  She surveys me with a warning glance.

  “I just want to get the assignment right, okay? You know how dedicated I am to my work.” I scoot toward her again and this time she lets our knees keep touching.

  I pull up my favorite AWOLNATION song. “Their album is good, but they’re phenomenal live. Like nothing else I’ve ever seen.”

  She smirks. “Chloe says the same thing.”

  Great. I may have an in with this one, but only because of her best friend. I wanted to introduce her to them.

  I start the song and close my eyes. I give it a minute and then peek. She’s got her eyes closed. I smile as I take in this moment with her here in my room where I’ve lain in bed and thought about her. And now I’ve got her here. It’s not like I’m going to do anything about that, but the moment isn’t lost on me.

  I close my eyes and take in the creepy cool electronica of the song, letting the different sounds and voices wash over me. The song builds, the instruments becoming more present and distinct, multiplying. My head naturally bobs back and forth as the music evolves. I take another peek at her, and she bobs her head, too, as she feels the music.

  Never has there ever been a moment more appropriate for a kiss, more available. The music, the sort of mystical lighting in my room, my bed, her eyes closed. But she’s trusting me right now, and I’m not going to do anything to screw with that, as hard as this urge is knocking at my chest.

  The song ends abruptly, and she opens her eyes and blinks. I stop the music before the next song can start and wait for her response.

  She scratches her nose and then swipes at her chin with her fingers and thumb. “Okay.”

  I look at her out of the corner of my eye. “Okay, what?”

  She shrugs. “I get why it’s great.”

  “Are you joking?”

  She laughs. “No, I’m serious.”

  “This isn’t one of those things where you’re just trying to get the assignment done so you—”

  She’s shaking her head hard. “No. I know exactly what I’m going to say for the report and everything.”

  “You do?”

  She presses down on her knees as sh
e closes her eyes. “The artist takes us on a ride. He starts us out slow and calm…eerie, but you know from the beginning it’s all a setup. He keeps telling us he’s capable of doing something terrible, and since the instruments are his only weapon and he’s doing this kick-ass job of manipulating them so far, you know he’s totally going to tear you up with this, like, mindfuck of a finale, but you don’t know when it’s coming. Then out of nowhere he tells you to run, but you couldn’t turn the music off even if you wanted at this point because you’ve got to know what he’s going to do to you next. And then come these freaking heavy guitar licks that are like…robust and mean and full of hate in the most fantastic way. And then he’s screaming and like gonging at us or something, then it just ends.” She snaps her fingers and stares at them a second as she finishes her thought.

  I think I just fell in love.

  She motions toward her chest. “Okay, me next.”

  A knock sounds at my door and then it opens. My dad glances around my freakily lit room and then looks between the two of us sitting on my bed.

  Jenna jumps down and walks over to him with an outstretched hand. “Mr. Cleveland?”

  My dad furrows his brow, like he’s thrown off his game. “Yes.”

  “I’m Jenna, Miles’s songwriting partner. Did you meet my dad downstairs?”

  He blinks. “Yes, in the driveway. He was taking off as I was coming in.”

  I get up and turn the light on.

  “So he’s playing a show at the Bluebird? Is that right?” my dad asks.

  She lifts her shoulders and gives a proud smile. “Yes sir. He’s a bluegrass musician.”

  My dad nods, keeping a stern face. “He must be good to play there.”

  “Yes sir. He’s the best.”

  “What does he do for work?” he asks.

  I cringe.

  Jenna laughs and holds her hands out to her sides. “That.”

  My dad’s eyes widen. “Full-time?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “What does your mother do?”

  Now he’s bordering on rude. I’m thinking about telling him to back off when my mom appears, giving him a playful slap on the shoulder.

  “Enough of the third degree. I just came up to see if the two of you want me to order pizza.”

  “Great,” Jenna says. “Thank you.”

  “What do you like on yours, sweetie?” my mom asks her.

  Jenna shakes her head. “I’m totally easy.”

  “Okay,” my mom says, giving Jenna a look like she’s still trying to figure her out. Join the club.

  “Call us when it gets here, okay?” I say, pushing the door closed.

  My dad opens it back up halfway, peering in like Robocop. “Keep that light on, too.”

  I wait for them to get back down the stairs, and I push the door to the frame so just a sliver of the hallway light is shining in. I turn the light back off.

  She points at her phone on my desk. “Can I have my phone back now…so I can pull up a song?”

  “Of course.” We both settle in across from each other again.

  I study her as she flips through her phone. “You’re good with parents, aren’t you?”

  “It’s not hard,” she says. “You just let them know their kid is safe with you.”

  I huff a laugh at the idea.

  She looks offended. “I’m safe.” She spits the words at me.

  I frown and fumble with my phone in my lap. “I’m not safe with you.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  I shake my head. “Nothing. What’s your song?”

  She stares at me like she wants to say something but is holding back. I don’t want her to say anything, because I don’t need to start this conversation. There’s nowhere for it to go that doesn’t end in her storming out of here or us kissing again, but this time here on my bed where I don’t want to have to control myself like I did last Friday. And if we do kiss, I can’t turn her away again. There’s no going back a second time.

  I nod at her phone, and she gives up on what she wants to say and scrolls for her song.

  She moves up so our knees are touching again, and my stomach does that weird stuff like my insides are lit up. I close my eyes and still myself, ready for the blast of pop music. But fair is fair, so I’m not complaining.

  I open my eyes at the sound of an easy guitar lick. Without opening her eyes, she smiles and holds a finger over her lips, like she knows I’m looking at her.

  As she mouths the words to the Allman Brothers’ “Blue Sky,” her face lights up with fondness, or memory possibly. The verse and chorus are over before I can blink, and she moves her shoulders with the feel of the music during the very long guitar solo.

  I know I’m supposed to be letting the music wash over me right now with my eyes shut, but I can’t tear my gaze away from her. I’m always looking at her big, green eyes, but with those closed, I really focus on the rest of her face…her puffy little lips, her soft skin, her cheekbones so prominent and edgy.

  She sings aloud to the next verse. I don’t even know if she realizes she’s doing it. Her voice is pure and simple in the most elegant way, harmonizing with the recorded song.

  The song wraps, and she opens her eyes and hits pause on her phone. She meets my gaze. “Well?”

  “I wasn’t expecting that,” I say.

  She tilts her head to the side. “I can like stuff other than pop. I liked your song.”

  I narrow my gaze at her. “What is that song to you?”

  She runs her finger up the seam in her jeans. “My dad used to play that song for me when I was little…after my mom left.”

  I take her hand in mine. She doesn’t latch onto my hand, but she doesn’t pull away, either.

  “What was it like when she came back?” I ask.

  She gives a humorless chuckle. “She came back on my tenth birthday. My dad and I were eating birthday cake and getting ready to leave for the skating rink, and she showed up, sat down, and ate a piece with us.”

  This last part seems to really piss her off. I know it would have pissed me off.

  “I’d asked for a party, but my dad had said he wanted it to just be the two of us. He was surprising me with her.” She meets my gaze. “She was my gift. The grace of her presence.” Her lip snarls up with her words. “He’d invited her to my birthday. As if he had a right to do that on my behalf.” She points at her chest, her face filling with color.

  She shakes her head and swipes a finger at her eye. While my heart hurts for her, I’m drawn in to her vulnerability. All her pomp and circumstance is stripped away, leaving a raw shell. I’m appreciative of her trust in me right now. Something tells me opening up like this isn’t a common occurrence for her.

  I hold on to both of her calves, folded there next to mine. “I’m sorry,” I say, and I mean it. I don’t know what else to say. I can’t begin to imagine what she’s feeling.

  She stares down at my hands on her legs. “My dad never sang me that song again after she got back.”

  I rub my thumbs back and forth on the fronts of her legs. “I’m sorry.”

  She meets my gaze. “I never told anyone that before.”

  A rush of energy infiltrates my heart. “I’m honored.”

  She takes in a quick gasp of air and puts the one throw pillow I have on my bed in her lap. “I think she’s going to leave again.”

  I pull away from her. “What makes you think that?”

  She exhales a deep breath. “She’s been quiet and weird since I decided not to go to L.A.—like she missed her chance to break free.” She lifts her chin, still staring at the pattern of the United States on my pillow. “She’s been dying to get out of that house since my tenth birthday.”

  I frown, not able to come up with any words for her. As much as I argue with my dad, I’ve never been afraid he’s going to leave me. I can’t even conjure up how that idea makes me feel.

  “Do you want to know the part that makes me an
awful person?” she asks, her voice low and gravelly. “I want her to leave.”

  I nod understanding, though I’m not sure I do. It’s hard to imagine wanting either my mom or my dad to leave. But I know her situation is much different from mine.

  She huffs a laugh. “I never wanted her to come back in the first place. Not for me, at least.”

  “You and your dad are close,” I say.

  She nods, tracing the pillow’s pattern with her finger. “It’s always been my dad and me.”

  We sit there without saying anything. I want so badly to pull her into my chest and lay down with her here on my bed. I’d settle for just holding her close to me and making her feel safe for a minute.

  I ease my hands up the sides of her thighs, inching closer to her. I move her hair out of her face and set it over her shoulder. It’s so much longer when it’s straight. I cup the back of her neck and inch closer in, unable to stop what I know is a terrible idea on my part.

  “Don’t, Miles,” she whispers.

  I drop my head down, closing my eyes. I want to be with her so badly that I think my heart might quit working if I don’t get to touch her.

  She jerks back from me. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to hold my hand or my legs or kiss me.” She gets to her feet. “You just want to be partners. That’s what you said.”

  I rub my forehead. “I know.”

  She flings her hand at me. “Then what is this shit? Why are you trying to kiss me? Because I told you a sad story? You need to be stronger than that, Miles Cleveland.”

  The weight of her words weakens my posture. “You don’t understand.”

  “No, I’m sure I don’t. Feel free to enlighten me.”

  “I can’t have anything holding me back from winning that talent show.”

  She puts her hands on her hips. “Fine, then don’t try to kiss me again.”

  I get to my feet and move toward her. She takes a step backward, her eyes wide. I hold her steady by her arms. “You have no idea how hard it is for me not to kiss you.”

  She blinks, searching me from one eye to the next. “Then why do you stop yourself? You can’t kiss me and compete?”

  I let go of her arms and run my hands through my hair, pacing circles around the room. “I can’t get distracted. I have to win. I need that money for Belmont.”