Say Yes: Shawn: Say Yes Series Book Two

by Amelia Mae

  “Sounds fun.”

  “Come with me,” I say.

  “Are you asking me or telling me?” she asks with a smirk.

  “I was inviting you. Nicely. But I can make it a demand if you want,” I tell her.

  She raises an eyebrow.

  I lower my voice and pull her closer to me. “I can issue all kinds of demands.”

  “Like what?” She gives me a sly smile.

  “Come to Vegas with me.”

  She smirks.

  “Take off that shirt,” I order playfully.

  Aya plays with the hem.

  “Sit on my face…”

  Suddenly, the door opens and a very roughed up, hungover Jack comes in.

  “Do it,” he grimaces, “Sit on his fucking face and shut him up.” He rubs his temples.

  My eyes dart to Aya and I expect to see her freaking out, but she doesn’t. She’s perfectly calm.

  I sigh out in relief.

  “Jack, you remember Aya,” I say, reintroducing them. They shake hands.

  “Of course,” Jack starts, “Cora’s pretty friend who Shawn jerks off to in the shower.”

  I’m about to get very, very pissed at my step-brother, but Aya’s giggling, so I back off.

  She leans in. “I’ve thought about you in the shower more times than I can count,” she says in a stage-whisper.

  I growl. “Fuck. Show me.”

  “Guess I’ll be needing these,” Jack grumbles finding his noise-canceling headphones on the counter. “No offense, Aya, I love listening to a woman come. But not with a hangover.” He helps himself to a couple pieces of bacon and heads for his bedroom.

  I look at Aya, who’s biting her lip and smiling.

  Breakfast can wait.

  Aya has to leave shortly after our lukewarm egg sandwiches to teach a class. “I’ll return your shirt,” she tells me, still wearing it along with her jeans from last night.

  “Keep it,” I tell her, “Looks better on you.”

  I kiss her goodbye. I mean for it to last a mere few seconds, but she smells like honey and flowers and tastes so good, that it takes several minutes to finally separate.

  She finally pries herself from my arms and I watch her leave, leaning against the door and letting out a low sigh.

  “You’re so fucked,” Jack calls from inside the apartment.

  I let myself back in and close the door behind me.

  “You’re practically in love with her,” he taunts.

  “It’s temporary. She knows that. We’re just doing this till the tour starts up again. Then we go our separate ways,” I tell him.

  He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I’m convinced.”

  I shrug. I’ve got nothing to prove to Jack.

  “I just know how you are with women,” Jack says, hammering away at his point, “It’s okay to be a relationship guy, even if you’re living this kind of unstable life. I mean, you have to work hard at it and get really good at phone sex, but it can be done. Hell, look at Ian. He went from a player to… practically married.”

  “Well, apart from those months after his mom died where he was barely alive,” I remind him.

  “Still.”

  “Are you suddenly pro-monogamy?” I ask.

  “Fuck no,” Jack answers, crossing his arms over his chest, “That kind of shit isn’t for me. But you’re my brother and my friend and I don’t want to see you miserable.”

  “I’m not miserable.”

  “I mean later. After you break up with her,” he says, “You will be.”

  “It'll be fine,” I assure Jack, “We’re going to be adults about this.”

  Jack fights through his hangover, frustrated. “You just… You don’t have to break up with her, you know.”

  “Yes I do,” I argue, “You remember what happened with Torie. Same shit’s gonna happen.”

  “She’s not Torie,” he says, “She’s way more together. Plus, you’re much happier with Aya.”

  “That’s crazy,” I tell him, “I’m still getting to know Aya.”

  Jack shakes his head. “You’re more attached than you realize,” he tells me, a serious look on his face. “She is too.”

  Before he gets too sentimental, Jack heads into his bathroom and I’m pretty sure I hear vomiting.

  Figures.

  I know that ending it with Aya before we go back on tour will be the right thing to do. My lifestyle doesn’t lend itself well to relationships. We’ll hurt a little when it happens to avoid hurting a lot later after jealousy and the road eventually tear us apart.

  But he’s right. I’m very fucked.

  Because when all this is over, I’m really going to miss her.

  15

  Aya

  I called Shawn and told him that I really want to go with him this weekend. Cora’s going too and we decide to do some last minute shopping and get our hair done before the trip. So I meet Cora at my favorite hair salon about an hour after my class wraps.

  My stylist, Natasha, has been dying my hair for years. She knows exactly what I want.

  But today, she’s looking at me like something’s wrong.

  “Have you noticed any breakage?” she asks, deeply concerned, “Is more of your hair falling out than usual?”

  “I don’t really know,” I tell her, “Maybe.”

  “Well, you’ve been bleaching and dying your hair consistently for the past few years. And I know you used to do a lot of it yourself.”

  I nod. I’ve experimented with a lot of different colors and products and I’ve definitely made some mistakes.

  She continues, “This kind of thing is really stressful on your hair. You might want to consider giving it a break for awhile.”

  “And let it grow out?” I ask. “Won’t that look weird?”

  “It would,” she says, “I mean that you should dye it back to your natural color today and then don’t mess with it for awhile.”

  “What happens if we just dye it like usual?” I ask.

  I feel myself getting antsy. I’ve been blue for years. It’s become part of my identity now and I’m not sure I’m ready to let it go.

  “Look, I’m not saying that your hair will all fall out tomorrow and you’ll be bald,” Natasha clarifies, “But you might see more and more in the shower drain and it’s only going to get more brittle if you continue to bleach it.”

  “Yeah,” I say, considering the possibility.

  I try to convince myself that it’s only hair.

  But it’s not only hair.

  Not to me.

  “My professional opinion is to go back to your natural color and we’ll see about going blue again in a few months,” Natasha says.

  I take a deep breath.

  It’s only hair, Aya. It’s only hair.

  Why do I give myself these little pep talks. They don’t fucking work.

  “I have to be honest,” she continues, “I’m not sure why you’re so concerned. Your natural color is freaking gorgeous.”

  I smile gently.

  She’s right. There’s nothing wrong with my natural color. And I certainly don’t want any more falling out.

  Maybe it’s time to stop hiding.

  “Okay,” I tell her. “Let’s go back to black.”

  When Cora’s through with the hairstylist, she doesn’t look all that different. Just polished. Always fucking beautiful.

  She sees me, however, and her jaw drops.

  “Holy shit!” she exclaims. “I’ve never seen you with black hair. It looks so good.”

  And she’s right. It’s extreme.

  I mean, it looks good. It’s just…

  I get sort of teary as I look in the mirror. I’m seeing a version of myself that I haven’t seen in years. I look more mature. More womanly, less girlish.

  I like it.

  Not more. Not less.

  What the hell is Shawn going to think?

  “Don’t worry about what Shawn thinks,” Cora says, “This is for you and it looks ama
zing.”

  I run my fingers through it.

  She’s right. This is about me.

  And it does look good.

  “He’s going to be crazy about it, though,” she adds.

  We meet Ian and Shawn for dinner that night at a mom-and-pop Italian place in Ian’s neighborhood. Apparently he and Cora go there pretty often because we’re immediately ushered to a table by the fireplace and the servers kind of fawn over us.

  Of course, it doesn’t hurt that the guys are crazy hot and semi-famous.

  Not like fans swarming the table famous. Just hey aren’t you that guy from that band famous.

  Ian rises to greet Cora, pulling her into a kiss that screams everybody look at how happy I am with my gorgeous fiancé. I’m almost prepared to see him pick her up and spin her around like in a cheesy rom-com.

  I mean, it’s way too much for a restaurant, but we let it slide because they’re great together and I am really happy for them.

  Then Shawn rises and just stares at me with an expression that I can’t read.

  “Oh, God, you hate it,” I mutter.

  He touches the ends of my hair, just beneath my shoulders.

  “I love it,” he says, genuinely, his voice barely a whisper. “It’s… you.”

  I get goosebumps.

  For a split-second, I’d convinced myself that I heard Shawn say I love you. And I’m surprised at how badly I want to hear him say those words.

  “Are you okay?” Shawn asks.

  I blink twice. “Yeah. Sorry. Drifted off there for a second.”

  “Well, take me with you next time. Or else I have to just sit here and watch these two make out with no one to talk to,” he jokes.

  I laugh. “Will do.”

  Cora and Ian finally cool down and take their seats, however they’re definitely playing footsie under the table or something.

  “So, Shawn tells me that you’re coming with us for the weekend,” Ian says in effort to be polite.

  “I still have to clear it with work,” I start, “But, yeah, I’m like ninety-nine percent sure.”

  “You have to be there,” Cora says, “It’s mandatory.”

  She and Ian eye each other conspiratorially.

  I look at Shawn to see if he knows anything. He shrugs, just as confused as I am.

  “Ian and I are getting married,” Cora announces.

  “Oh my God,” I practically shriek, covering my mouth with both hands.

  “Congratulations, man,” Shawn says, standing to pull Ian into a bro-hug.

  I wrap my arms around Cora and squeeze. “I’m so happy for you.”

  “Thank you,” she replies. “And, Aya, I need a favor.”

  “You need a dress ASAP?”

  “Well, yes,” she admits, “But I also need a maid of honor.” She takes my hand gently. “Please?”

  “Oh my God. Of course,” I tell her excitedly, “Fuck, there’s so much to do. You need a dress and shoes and lingerie and flowers…”

  “We’re getting married at the chapel in the hotel, so they kind of do all the planning work for you. But I will need your help with the dress and stuff,” she says, “It’s just the band, Nikki, you and my mom. I know it’s really sudden, but we wanted to do it before I go back to school.”

  “Let me guess, you need a best man? No need to ask. I’m available,” Shawn offers.

  “Actually, my sister’s going to do it,” Ian says, “She’s got a suit and everything.”

  Shawn shakes his head, amused. Apparently that’s exactly something Nikki would do.

  “Are you going on a honeymoon?” I ask.

  “We’re flying to Cancun the morning after the reception,” Ian answers, “We’ll be there for a week. Then Cora leaves for New York a few days later. Right in time for the semester to start.”

  “Ugh,” Cora grimaces, “I don’t want to think about school.”

  “I thought you loved school,” Ian teases.

  “I do love school,” she concedes, “But I want to stay in bride-mode and ignore the outside world as long as possible.”

  I get it. I totally get it.

  It’s not bride-mode, of course, but I know how it feels to want to stay in fantasyland for awhile. I want to be wrapped in Shawn’s big arms being kissed and fucked and held and pretend that this thing that we have together won’t all come crashing down in a matter of months.

  The waitress arrives and takes our orders. She suggests a beef dish I’ve never tried before, but will apparently go well with the full-bodied red wine I’ve been sipping since I sat down. Shawn orders the same.

  “And for you two? The usual?” the waitress asks.

  “Please. Thank you Maria,” Ian says with a nod.

  As Maria leaves, Cora looks back to me. “Actually, I have one more favor, Aya.”

  “Name it.”

  “Can I stay at your place tonight?” she asks, “Ian and I are trying to stay apart until the wedding.”

  “We’re flying down separately and everything,” Ian adds, “And staying in separate rooms the first night.”

  “I’ll be at the show, obviously,” Cora says, “But I’m leaving right after.”

  Ian groans, “That’s going to be such hell.”

  Shawn laughs.

  “So can I stay with you tonight?” Cora asks, “Then we can fly down together tomorrow evening.”

  “First class, of course,” Ian adds, like he has to convince me to do it.

  “And we can take Saturday to do wedding things.”

  “By wedding things, you mean bachelorette party, right?” I ask.

  Cora looks at Ian, mock-scandalized. “Of course not.” Then she stage-whispers in my ear, “Definitely.”

  I’m super excited. I mean, I was looking forward to spending tonight with Shawn. But, of course, I’m a great friend and I’ll suffer through a trip to Las Vegas and a first class flight for Cora.

  “Wow. I can’t believe this is all happening,” I say, still bewildered, “I’m so excited for you.”

  Maria returns seconds later with the food and more wine. As expected, it’s delicious.

  The conversation turns from the wedding to the band’s new album that they’re set to start recording about the time Ian will return from his honeymoon. We discuss Cora’s school and my exotic dance workshop. I tell them all about Johnny and his progress.

  “He accidentally saw the selfie you sent me,” I tell Shawn while Ian and Cora are off in their own little bubble. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I got nothing to hide,” he says with a smirk.

  “He got a little swoony over you.”

  “Did he now?”

  “He’s gay,” I clarify.

  “I figured,” Shawn says with a chuckle.

  “But I think it frustrated him too. He has some body-image issues and it messes with his self-confidence,” I tell him, “I try build him up, but he says some pretty disturbing things about himself.”

  “I get that.”

  “You,” I start, gesturing at his incredible body, “Know what it’s like to feel like that.”

  Shawn nods, kind of somberly. “I’ll let you in on a little secret, Aya.” He lowers his voice. “I did not always look like this.”

  My jaw hits the floor. “No fucking way.”

  Shawn fiddles with his phone until he finds a picture. It’s an early photo of the band. I recognize younger versions of Ian and Jack. They used to have a different singer, so Dylan’s not in this. But Shawn… whoa. I recognize his face, but other than that…

  “I can’t believe that’s you,” I say, “You’re so fit now.”

  “I was always heavy, but it didn’t really bother me,” he explains, “But then the band got it’s first write-up in a music journal and the woman referred to me as the ‘pudgy bassist’ and suggested that the band find somebody better looking. It just killed me.”

  “That fucking bitch.”

  He chuckles. “It was like… Like it didn’t matter tha
t I was smart or interesting or good on the bass or had something to contribute to the world. As long as I was fat, that was all that people would ever see.

  “When I started to diet and exercise, I kind of felt like I was giving into the pressure. But I knew that it was good for my health and it was the right thing to do. And I figured I could finally get a girlfriend,” he says with a wink.

  I take a long look at Shawn, feeling like I’m seeing him for the first time. Like every time we have a real conversation, another layer of Shawn Kinney is revealed.

  “I get what it feels like to not feel unworthy. Like, maybe you don’t measure up to the person you want, so you don’t go after them at all,” he tells me, “Never really goes away.”

  “Really? Never?” I ask, “You’re famous and rich and ridiculous looking and you seriously wonder if you measure up to a short, damaged, pole dancer?”

  Under the table, he takes my hand and squeezes.

  “Yeah,” he answers.

  16

  Aya

  As much as I wanted to drag Shawn into my bed and prove to him that he more than ‘measures up,’ I’d promised Cora that she could spend the night at my place.

  We play some 90s music, make popcorn, and open a bottle of wine. It immediately turns into a junior high slumber party. Except with alcohol.

  Cora changes into a tank top and pajama bottoms with red hearts on them. I put on shorts and Shawn’s Pixies tee-shirt. It smells like him and it makes me tingly, but I keep that little detail to myself.

  We use my laptop to make Cora an appointment at a bridal salon as well as set times to get our hair and makeup done.

  “It’s so sudden,” I say, the news still sinking in.

  “I know,” she replies, flushed and happy, “We were talking about waiting until after I graduated, but…”

  “Why wait?”

  “It just feels really right, you know?” she says, unable to stop smiling.

  “I know I’ve said it a hundred times tonight, but I really am so happy for you,” I tell her.

  She just beams. “Enough about me. What’s going on with you and Shawn? I was going to wait for you to bring up the fact that you’re wearing his favorite shirt, but apparently I have to take matters into my own hands.”