She took a drag off her cigarette and thought for another moment.
“That you seem like a really sweet girl who’s still trying to figure out who she wants to be in life.”
I wanted to roll my eyes, but for some reason, Molly telling me I was sweet didn’t bother me so much. And she’d gotten the other part right.
“Yeah,” I said softly. “That’s pretty much it.” I could feel my face falling as I said it.
“Hey,” she said, moving her cigarette to her right hand and putting her left arm around my shoulders. “Don’t feel bad about not knowing who you are. You’re only, what, eighteen?”
I laughed a loud, barking laugh. It was a typical assumption. “I’m twenty-one,” I told her. “Chase and I are twins.”
“Oh, really,” was all Molly said, and I could tell she was surprised. “Well, you still have time to get your shit together. When I was your age, I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life, so I took some time off to figure it out.”
“What did you do?”
“I traveled for a while, worked some different jobs. I actually ended up in L.A. where I live now. A mate of mine needed someone to mind the phones, make his appointments, and check out new bands with him. He owns a small record label, and I had experience in the industry, so he hired me.”
“That’s really cool,” I said, thinking how fun her job probably was. Rachel would kill to meet someone like Molly with all her connections.
Molly just laughed. “It’s okay. The label’s just getting started though, so the pay’s shit, and we only have two bands, but I do get to see a lot of live music for free.”
I smiled. “Can I have one?” I asked her, gesturing to the pack of cigarettes that sat on the sand beside her.
She looked down at them for a second, registering what I was asking.
“Sure,” she said, pulling one from the pack. I watched as she lit it against her own cigarette and handed it to me.
“How long have your worked in the music industry?” I asked her, holding the cigarette between my fingers, watching it burn slowly, contemplating if I really wanted to smoke it. Messages I’d heard in health class and on TV about how smoking was bad resonated in my head.
“About three years. My cousin asked me to manage his band a few years back, so I did. I’d just moved here after graduating from university and didn’t have anything else to do, so I figured, why not. I did that for about two years and when the band broke up, I traveled for a while before I decided to see if I could break into the industry for real. That’s when Adam hired me, and I’ve been working for him ever since.”
“What’s the name of your label?”
“Live Ammunition,” she said.
I just shook my head. I’d never heard of it.
“Are you going to smoke that or stare at it?” she asked me then.
Figuring it was time I did something radical, I slowly brought the cigarette to my lips and sucked lightly on the end. I felt the smoke curl into my mouth, so I inhaled deeply and almost immediately started violently coughing. Molly reached over and hit me on the back a few times as I continued to hack up a lung and try to regain my breath.
“Have you never smoked a cigarette before?” she asked me.
I shook my head as I drug in a few shallow breaths.
Molly smiled. “I figured.”
While my breathing returned to normal, I started to wonder what exactly people liked about smoking. My mouth sort of tasted like an ashtray. I took another drag, hoping the taste would improve, and only coughed a little that time.
Then I started to worry. “Am I doing it wrong?” I asked Molly, thinking I was doing my best to mimic everyone I’d ever seen smoke a cigarette, but I honestly had no idea if I was doing it right.
She smiled. “Nope, you’re not doing anything wrong. It just takes some getting used to.”
I took another drag, feeling empowered all of a sudden that I was doing two bad things in one night. It was pretty liberating.
“You’re going to sleep with my brother aren’t you?” I blurted out, feeling fearless all of a sudden.
“No,” Molly said passively, seeming not at all surprised by my question. “I mean, not that I wouldn’t. He’s fucking hot, but he has a girlfriend who he’s pretty serious about. I wouldn’t want to intrude on that.”
My eyebrows shot up into my hairline. “Chase has a girlfriend?”
She nodded. “Yeah, you didn’t know?”
I shook my head. “We’re not exactly close.”
She nodded in understanding. “That’s too bad,” she said, getting up from where she was sitting. “He’s a pretty great guy. You might want to get to know him.”
“Yeah,” I said, as I watched her dust the sand off the back of her skirt.
“I’m going to head back up,” she told me, “but we should hang out again.”
I smiled. “That would be cool.”
She winked at me before she started to trudge back up the beach.
I called out to her when she was a few feet away from me. “Molly?”
“Yeah,” she said, turning around to face me.
“Would you mind if I had another cigarette?”
She smiled. “Not at all, although you should know that it’s a filthy habit.”
I smiled at her out-of-character health warning. “I don’t think two will kill me,” I said, as I took the cigarette from her outstretched hand.
“No, probably not,” she said, as she winked at me again.
Chapter Eleven
I woke up the next day to my phone ringing loudly on my nightstand. My head was pounding, my mouth tasted like an ashtray, and it felt like I’d swallowed a bottle of sand. I realized I had a raging hangover and tried to remember just how many beers I’d consumed but couldn’t recall. All I remembered was bumming cigarettes from Molly and letting Chase continue to fill up my cup late into the night, and then stumbling home after them, laughing most of the way.
“Hello?” I said putting my cell phone to my ear, sounding decidedly not like myself.
“Hey babe,” came Ben’s voice, and I had a sudden flashback to something I’d done the night before.
Memories hit me in spurts. One minute I was laughing, and the next I was crying. Why had I been crying? I recalled getting home, Chase telling me to sleep it off and telling me that everything would be better in the morning. Then I cringed when I remembered calling Ben at around three in the morning. I wasn’t quite sure what I’d said to him, but by the tone of his voice, I was fairly confident it hadn’t been good.
“Hey,” I said, softening my tone to the one I always used with him. It wasn’t baby talk, but it was a close cousin to it. “How are you?”
“Confused,” he said, and then he took a deep breath. “I woke up this morning to a very incoherent message from you. It sounded like you were crying. Are you okay?”
My stomach tightened at the concern I heard in his voice. “I’m fine, Ben. And I’m sorry. I was really drunk last night. What did I say?”
“I have no clue. You were really hard to understand. Why were you drunk?”
I cringed at his tone. It was definitely laced with disappointment or concern. I just didn’t know which. Ben wasn’t used to me being out of control and losing my faculties. I was usually the one playing mom and making sure everyone got home okay at the end of the night.
“I just went to a party and had more beer than I should have. It wasn’t a big deal. I’m sorry I called you so late.”
“That’s okay. It was good to hear your voice, even if I couldn’t make out what you were saying. I miss you like crazy, Em,” he said, making me miss him more than I had since I’d left. I suddenly wanted nothing more than for him to be there with me, his strong arms around me, holding me tight.
“I miss you, too, Ben,” I said, my heart aching for him. I reached for the water bottle I’d put by my alarm clock the night before, grateful I’d been so forward thinking in my inebriated state.
I chugged about half of it in ten seconds. “I wish you could come visit me.”
“I know,” he said. “Me too, but I have football.”
We both knew he had to head back to school the following week. Summer practices were starting. It was probably better anyway. As vulnerable as I was feeling that morning, I knew the time apart would be good for us.
“I know. It was just an idea.”
“And a damn good one at that,” he said sweetly.
He started to tell me about the team meeting they’d had the day before and the workouts he’d incorporated into his days to get back into shape. Then he told me all the latest news from home. I added an ‘oh yeah’ or a ‘that’s funny’ here and there to show I was still engaged in the conversation, but given the pounding in my head that reminded me of how much fun I’d had the night before, the last thing I wanted to hear about was the world I’d left behind.
I rolled over and looked out at the vast ocean just beyond my bedroom window. There was a great big world out there that I had sheltered myself from for so long. I suddenly felt stifled as I listened to Ben talk about our little homogenous bubble. I itched to hang up the phone and go out and see what was available for me to explore. But when I heard Ben’s voice on the other end of the line, I was tugged back to that safe world where he resided at the center, and I knew I couldn’t discount that world. Maybe I could find a balance?
When we hung up, I figured I’d start my day. I did what I did every day. I got dressed and went to the beach, except first I knocked on Chase’s door to see if he wanted to go, with the actual intention of hanging out with him. I really wanted to take what Molly had said about Chase being a good guy to heart. I about passed out when he said he wanted to go.
So I spent the day at the beach with my brother and sister, not really talking, but not fighting with them either. That night, Chase and I, along with Keely and Matt, who were holding hands and making out along the way, walked to Molly’s house to pick her up on our way to another bonfire. It seemed that was all people our age did at night on the small island.
Molly’s younger brother, Jared, who was a year older than Keely, tagged along with us, chatting with her and Matt and staring at my sister like she was a goddess. I watched Matt place a possessive arm around Keely and knew it was a mistake. She hated that and would dismiss him in a heartbeat if he started to stifle her.
That night I’d dressed in a short, green t-shirt dress, deciding that it was more my own style. I didn’t need to dress like Chase to fit in. I’d done just fine the night before. Besides, Keely was trailing behind me wearing skinny jeans, a white fitted t-shirt and flip flops, along with Matt and Jared who were pretty much fighting for the title of Mr. Abercrombie and Fitch. I wasn’t so much the minority anymore.
As usual, Molly was dressed to the height of punk fashion in black cropped pants that had more buckles and zippers in random places, purple high-top Converse sneakers and a white hoodie with the hood up over her hair. Her eyes were dark-lined with purple liner that matched her dark purple lips. She’d changed out her nose ring to a small hoop and her lip ring to a spike that looked pretty intimidating. I hoped she wasn’t considering kissing anyone that night, since she’d probably draw blood if she did.
The six of us walked to the same spot as the night before, which seemed much closer after I’d stumbled home from it less than twenty-four hours earlier, falling into my brother and laughing at who knows what. A thunderstorm had threatened the island for most of the day, the clouds visible off in the distance, but so far the rain had held off. The air was dry, but it smelled like rain, so we would probably all get wet in a few hours. I wondered if that was why Molly had her hood up and instantly regretted not grabbing a jacket when we’d left the house.
As usual, Molly and Chase walked together, sharing a joint. I didn’t join them, even though they offered. I did bum a cigarette from Molly, thinking I’d at least have something to do while I walked silently next to them, trying to get into the conversation they were having about some college course Molly had taken on 18th Century poets. Chase surprised me with his in-depth knowledge about dead guys who wrote supposedly profound pieces of literature. I didn’t have much to add to the conversation, being a fan of poetry only in the form of song lyrics.
When we reached the beach, we were greeted by many of the same people I’d met the night before, who all seemed to know Molly and Chase. I also noticed that Cute Coffeehouse Guy was back. He was playing a series of Pearl Jam and Nirvana songs that were some of my personal favorites. To me, there was nothing better than classic alt. rock, so after getting my beer, I took a seat on a log that was near the fire and listened to him play Yellow Ledbetter and Heart-Shaped Box.
His dark hair hung down over his face when he played, shielding his eyes. I watched his fingers in amazement as they flew across the strings, recreating a melody that looked incredibly complex. Having no musical talent myself, I was instantly in awe that he could play some of my all-time favorites. His scratchy, raw voice made my mind race with inappropriate thoughts, just like it had the night we’d met.
After a few songs, he put down his guitar and looked around. Aside from me, there was a couple making out on a different log and two girls who seemed to be in some kind of heated debate that I suspected was a lover’s quarrel. Every once and a while, one of them would throw up her hands in frustration. I definitely did not want be a part of that conversation.
Just like last time, Coffeehouse Guy looked at me for a brief second, as if he thought he knew me, but didn’t say anything before he got up and walked toward the keg. Then I was alone by the bonfire, looking like an idiot, because I not only had no one to talk to, but I also had nothing to do. My drink was gone, but I didn’t dare get up to go to the keg for fear that Coffeehouse Guy would think I was following him. So I sat there for a few minutes, playing with the hem of my dress.
I was just about to get up and walk around when someone sat down next to me. A cup of beer was put in front of me. I took it and looked over at who had put it there, expecting Molly or Chase, but it wasn’t either of them. Cute Coffeehouse Guy was sitting next to me, sipping his beer and looking at me appraisingly. I noticed a small ring in his right eyebrow that definitely hadn’t been there the night we’d met.
“Go on, drink it,” he said. “I promise I didn’t put anything in it.”
“Thanks, I think,” I said, smiling slightly. “I honestly wasn’t thinking it was laced until you mentioned it. Now I have to admit I’m a little skeptical.”
He smirked at me before flipped his dark hair out of his eyes and looked out at the bonfire. “Naw, I wouldn’t do that.”
I studied his profile. He seemed to be lost in thought. His eyes had a far off look in them. It was the same look I’d seen at the coffeehouse when he’d zoned out for a few seconds, but it seemed to be etched deeper into his eyes. I took the opportunity to gaze at him without fear of getting caught. He had a strong, straight nose, a feature I found to be essential in order for a guy to be hot. His lips were full and pink, and totally kissable. I was drawn to them. I wanted to reach out and touch them, trace them with my finger.
Before I knew what was happening, Cute Coffeehouse Guy turned and looked right at me, catching me staring at him.
“Are you checking me out?” he asked, smirking slightly. His sexy southern accent made him exponentially hotter.
I felt my face blush scarlet and instantly looked down at my lap. Then I decided I wasn’t going to be embarrassed. I was checking him out, and there was absolutely nothing wrong with that. The new, more confident me was pushing her way to the surface.
“I was,” I said, trying to sound bold, as I took a long pull from my drink. I wasn’t nearly intoxicated enough for this conversation.
“And?”
“What do you mean, and?” I asked, noticing how clear his eyes were with the firelight bouncing off of them. They made my plain brown eyes seem so dull.
“And what do you
think?”
God his accent was sexy. I don’t know if it was the beer or the fact that I was suddenly interested in throwing caution to the wind, but I said matter-of-factly, “You have very kissable lips.”
He laughed a big, robust laugh, before looking away and shaking his head. “Oh yeah?” he asked as he looked back down at me, his hair falling forward into his eyes.
I nodded and reached my hand up to push his hair off his forehead, not really knowing what was causing me to be so brazen with a guy I hardly knew.
“Do you want to kiss them?” he asked in a half-mocking, half-serious tone once I brought my hand back down to my lap.
“Yes,” I said, honestly. “But I have a boyfriend, so no.”
He shrugged. “That’s too bad. Kissing you would have been fun.”
With that he picked up his beer, got up and walked over to a group of people I’d met the night before. As he walked, he pulled out the brown cigarette that had been resting behind his ear and put it in his mouth, lighting it with one hand. I was left sitting on the log, completely dumbfounded, as I tried to wrap my head around what had just happened.
I decided that I needed some air, so I walked down to the water’s edge, letting the cool breeze blow over me and the water rush and then retreat over my bare feet. I looked back for a moment and located Coffeehouse Guy still talking to the group of people he’d joined. He looked up and met my eyes for a moment and smiled. I looked away, embarrassed that I’d gotten caught staring at him again. Then I snuck another glance back and got all warm inside when I realized he was still staring.
That night I went to bed thinking about him and his very kissable lips. The next morning, I woke up feeling very guilty for thinking about his lips and vowed not to even think about straying from Ben again.
Chapter Twelve
Fortunately, I didn’t see Cute Coffeehouse Guy or his kissable lips for the next few nights. He wasn’t at any of the parties we went to, even though, I’m ashamed to admit, I kept looking for him, hoping he’d show up. He never did.
Broken Fairytales Series Box Set (Broken Fairytales, Buried Castles, Shattered Crowns) Page 11
