Serenading Heartbreak

by Ella Fields

  “You don’t seem like the settling down type anyway.”

  He chuckled. “I’m not, no. I’ve had one serious girlfriend, and that was in my senior year.”

  “Uh-huh. How long did that last?”

  He pursed his lips, as if trying to remember. “Long enough.”

  “So.” I raised a brow. “Do you offer marriage to all the girls you want to sleep with?”

  Leaning over the table, he took my hand in his, his gaze snatching and holding mine. “No. Only the ones I want to continuously sleep with.”

  “You might not like sleeping with me. You’ve never done it before,” I whispered, and that sour feeling in my stomach made way for heat.

  “I’m a betting man, and I’m willing to bet a whole fucking lot on you being the best time I’ll ever have.” His thumbs brushed over my clammy skin, and then he sat back and drew a lengthy sip of his milkshake.

  Still blinking at him, I did the same, too aware of my thighs clenching together.

  A lot of boys, soon-to-be men, had tried to do what Aiden had successfully done in a matter of minutes; pique my interest. But I’d never been able to see or feel anything, not even lust, for someone else.

  Not until then.

  Yet I kept on pushing. “I’m still in love with someone.”

  Aiden’s hand went to his heart, and he flashed a crooked smile. “I see what’s going on here.” I noticed how quick it fell. “That’s fine. Keep trying to deter me.”

  I sighed. “It could get… complicated.”

  “Are you still seeing this guy?” A thick brow arched. “Girl?”

  I smiled again. “No, I rarely ever see him.”

  “Rarely?”

  I nodded, not wanting to offer any more than that.

  He sucked in a hard breath, then drummed his hands on the table. “Okay, how about this? We just hang out.”

  “Just hang out?”

  He shrugged. “Yeah, I mean, you’re too easy to stare at, you smell fucking incredible, and I like hearing you laugh. Those are good enough reasons to hang.”

  I felt my brows gather. “You’re suggesting friends, then?”

  His expression lost its playfulness, those high cheekbones lowering. “Friends. Who knows, maybe you’ll eventually want more. Or maybe, I’ll tire of your beautiful face and leave you in the dust.”

  I laughed, even as the word eventually ricocheted in my ears. “You’re too smooth, Prince.”

  “You know my last name,” he said, brows ticking up. “Go on, tell me more about the stalking you’ve been doing.”

  I bunched and tossed a napkin at him.

  Laughing that full-throated laugh, he caught it and grabbed the pen that had been resting atop his book. I watched as he unfolded and scrawled his number on the napkin, then slid it over the table to me. “I lied.” He slurped the remainder of his milkshake, then collected his book and pen. “I do have another class. Text me, friend.”

  “And what if I don’t?” I asked, still staring at the napkin.

  After another caressing chuckle, he grabbed my hand to press his warm lips to before swaggering out of the cafeteria.

  “Hey, friend.”

  Smiling, I stopped on the sidewalk, waiting for Aiden to catch up. “Hey, Prince.”

  “You know,” he said, sunglasses shielding his curious eyes. “I’ve never liked chicks calling me that before, not when all my teammates do.”

  I twisted my lips, kicking at a lone pebble. “Is that your way of telling me to stop?”

  “No,” he said, bumping my shoulder with his and gesturing to his car down the street. We headed toward it. “If you stop, I’ll be pissed.”

  Laughter infused my voice. “Noted.”

  “No school today?”

  “Work.” I gestured over my shoulder.

  Tossing a glance backward, he hummed. “Petal Power. How fitting, you little ray of sunshine.”

  I laughed loud, almost snorting. “I’m not so shiny these days.”

  “Could’ve fooled me,” he said. A weighted moment passed before he asked, “Because of that guy you were talking about?”

  “Yeah.” I exhaled a breath. “I’m okay, though.”

  Stopping at his car, he opened the passenger door, and I climbed in without a word of protest.

  After giving him directions to my place, we spent the short drive in silence until he pulled up to the curb. I wanted to talk, to say something, but words failed me; all the while, his presence comforted me.

  “I had this girlfriend once.”

  “Senior year?” I unclipped my seat belt, then turned in the seat to face him.

  His eyes glimmered as he removed his shades and did the same. “You remember.”

  “It was only last week.” I knew saying that would give away that I’d been thinking about him, but I didn’t mind admitting it.

  With a nod, his attention dipped to the console. “Her name was Darby, and she was my first real girlfriend since anything before ninth grade doesn’t count. Anyway, she broke my heart. Haven’t tried again.”

  “What did she do?” I asked, feeling pressure on my chest when he turned to stare out the window.

  “Stripped for a living. I could get past that. But then things went awry with a bunch of my friends one night.”

  I blinked several times, hating the memories that cloaked his features, turning them to stone. “He was my brother’s best friend, a damaged soul and a heavy drinker.”

  Darting his gaze to me, Aiden’s eyes narrowed. “Shit.”

  “He was also beautiful, kind, creative, and talented.” I undid my ponytail, rolling the elastic over my wrist. “Besides my mom and best friend, no one knows we had, I don’t know, something. It was never going to last. I knew that, and still, I thought that maybe one day…” I cleared my throat. “And now, they’re all on the road, playing music.”

  “Your brother?”

  “Guitar, all forms.” I smiled, grabbing my purse. “They’re really good.”

  “Searching for fame, huh?”

  Pondering that, I looked back at him. “They’re searching for something; I just don’t know if it’s the same thing.” Shrugging, I opened the door, then paused. “So I’ve still got that napkin.”

  Flashing me a grin, he watched me climb out. “Music to my ears, Petal.”

  “I don’t think your dad will care what you get him as long as he gets to see you.”

  Aiden snorted into the phone. “You don’t know my dad, Petal.” He’d called me that ever since he found out where I worked. He paused, and I knew what was coming before he said it. “Oh.” Amused laughter bubbled. “That would be too good. You come with, and he’ll forget all about the fact I didn’t get him a stupid present.”

  “You can’t keep using me as an excuse to get out of shit with your dad,” I told him, refilling my water bottle at the sink.

  “What do you even mean? He already loves you, and he hasn’t even met you.”

  “Prince,” I warned, muttering about the mixtape Adela and I were trying to find the night before as I entered my room.

  “What?” He said something to someone in the background, then laughed at whatever they said back. “Wait, did you just say mixtape?”

  “Sure did.” I tugged out a box from beneath my bed and lowered to the ground to rummage through it.

  “I’m sorry, how very eighties of you.”

  “Shut it,” I said, grinning when I finally found it beneath some records. “Got it!”

  “Pray tell, what’s on this mixtape?” His voice lowered a few decibels. “Hang on, is it a dirty tape?”

  I snorted. “No, and it belonged to my parents. Adela and I used to dance to some of the songs on it when we were kids. We were wondering if I brought it when we moved here.” I flipped the cassette over, inspecting the back. “It was bugging me, not knowing.”

  “You’re too fucking cute. What songs? Fleetwood, Abba, the Stones?” He started to hum a bad rendition of “Ruby Tuesday,�
�� and my eyes widened.

  “Dear God, you’re a worse singer than I am.”

  He sputtered. “I’ll have you know I was once told I had a brilliant voice.” He paused. “And then my voice broke, and it all went to hell.”

  We both laughed then and settled into a comfortable silence. I could hear him getting into his car, the change of his voice as the door closed and the phone connected to the Bluetooth. “I miss you. Let me come over for another movie night.”

  “And have Adela watch us like we’re two teens who might kiss at any moment? Awkward.”

  “All right. That was awkward, but I’ll break the ice a bit better this time.”

  “What are you doing?” I asked, changing the subject. We’d grown closer since he’d first come over to our apartment, and it often worried me how comfortable I was speaking to him yet how uncomfortable I got when he was too close.

  I liked it a little too much.

  “Heading home from the team meeting.”

  I’d learned Aiden had been accepted into Duke, but he wanted to play ball for a living, and Raslow was the only college that had offered him a full ride. It’d caused some contention between him and his dad, who apparently wanted him to take over the family business, but things were civil, he’d said.

  “We can hang tomorrow?” I offered, tapping my fingers on the side of the box. “Maybe grab some dinner?”

  We’d been out for dinner a handful of times since I’d met him before Thanksgiving, so I didn’t feel like I was leading him on by asking.

  “Sure. Bonnie’s?” he asked, meaning the little diner we preferred near my work.

  “Duh,” I said. “Later, Prince.” I hung up before he could leave me with a lasting line of his that never failed to make me question why I kept him in the friend zone.

  I only had to look at the tape and the records in the box, and recall all the times Everett had sung along to some of the songs to remember why.

  “Am I too dressed up?” I asked Aiden, glancing down at my floral skirt, heeled wedges, and plain white tank.

  The March air was crisp, and I shrugged on my leather jacket as Aiden eyed me from where he was leaning against the brick exterior of Bonnie’s.

  His team blazer gave the impression of a young grease monkey with his perfectly swept back hair and tight jeans. “With that jacket, you look like sex on legs. Come on, I’m fucking starved.”

  He held out his arm, and I looped mine through it, smiling when he leaned in to kiss my cheek and inhale my curls. “I felt like making an effort after embarrassing you in my cutoffs and band shirt last time.”

  He waited for me to slide into the lime green booth before sliding in on the other side. “I’m not even going to comment because I’ll probably call you something stupid. Like an idiot.”

  I laughed. “You just fucking did.”

  “Say fucking again, Petal, and I fear I’ll need to at least steal a kiss. It turns me to steel within a second.” He leaned over the table, his eyes trained on my nude glossed lips. “Every. Fucking. Time.”

  Wildfire shot through my limbs. My head spun as I grabbed his chin, bringing his mouth close to mine. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Careful,” he said, sounding dangerously close to the edge. “I might bite.”

  “I bet you bite.” Quickly, I pecked his lips, then released him and sat back before he could take it any further.

  “What was that?” he asked, hands spread wide. “Such a tease.”

  “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want to put up with it.”

  He sighed. “So true.”

  We both ditched the menus, opting to order what we always did. He asked for the steak, medium rare, with salad and fries, and I ordered the wedges with sour cream.

  “What’s happening with your dad’s birthday, then?”

  Aiden drank some water before answering. “I told him I’ll head home for Easter. I have a game tomorrow night, and even if I left right afterward, I’d get there too late.” His dad lived four hours north, where he grew up. “That’s why the present is so important. He’s probably going to be pissed.”

  “He loves you.” I licked some cream from my lip, smirking when Aiden’s eyes narrowed, and he mouthed the word, “Evil.”

  Watching me for an echoing beat, he said, “While that may be so, he can be an asshole about it.”

  I chose not to comment and kept eating. My phone rang in my purse, and feeling full, I pushed my bowl away and checked it while Aiden finished his steak.

  Hendrix.

  It was the third time he’d tried to call this week, but I was finally in a good place. Happy.

  So even though guilt pressed heavy hands on my chest, I continued to ignore him to keep that feeling from disappearing.

  He was probably calling to ask for money anyway. Last time I’d spoken with Mom, she said things were getting tight for them, and they’d had to stop some places for a while and work some cash jobs before they could get back on the road. They didn’t make it home for Christmas for that reason, being that they were stuck in some Midwest town for six weeks trying to earn enough cash to fuel the next leg of their tour.

  “Where’s your mom?” I asked, tucking my phone away.

  Aiden was frowning at my purse. “She’s dead.”

  I held in a shocked gasp. Just. “Aiden…”

  “It’s okay,” he said, waving a hand. “Well, no, not really. Suicide. But it’s been years.”

  I took his hand, squeezing it with mine. He offered a soft smile, then plucked his hand back and swiped at his mouth with a napkin. “Wanna go?”

  I nodded, finishing my water to wash away the taste of sour cream and sadness.

  He paid the bill, and we drifted out onto the lamplit sidewalk, heading to his car. “So no movie night tonight?”

  “I guess…” My voice faded. People were streaming out of the bar down on the corner, herds of them littering the street. Thumping traveled to my ears, and then the unmistakable sound of Hendrix and one of his infamous guitar riffs. “Oh, my God.”

  “Stevie?” Aiden sounded worried. “The color is falling off your face onto the fucking concrete. Does your stomach hurt?” His hand landed on my cheek, trying to turn me. “Maybe food poisoning. Though I don’t think it usually sets in so—”

  I was walking away before he could finish his sentence, gliding toward the crooning voice that was calling. The one that always had me crawling back every time I heard it.

  Just like now.

  I pushed and shoved my way inside, dodging the bouncer who was too preoccupied with the mountain of people at the door to pay me any mind, and then I froze.

  By the bar, the lights dim but the men on stage clear as day, I stood rooted to the spot.

  “Stevie.” Aiden found me. “What the fuck, are you high?”

  “No,” I breathed, my eyes watering as Everett, almost unchanged, sat on the stage, his knee bent for his guitar to rest over, and the mic lowered for his voice to reach.

  Once more, his hair was longer, tucked behind one ear as he sang with closed eyes.

  …same toxic beat

  Has fucking chains around my feet

  Nurse the lyric like a mother

  Disguised as a lover

  For all the world to see

  Through the gaps of your mind,

  Your words can bend time,

  But baby,

  They’ll never set you free

  Whoa, oh, no

  Rinse and repeat

  Lifting a bottle of whiskey from the scuffed stage, Everett took a swig, muttering something into the mic as Graham segued into the next song. With a harsh shake of his head, Everett placed the bottle down, his large hands returning to the guitar strings, and his eyes closing again.

  There’s a blunt edge to the tray filled with ash,

  And it sings to that open wound

  You call a gash

  Night after night,

  You feel it coming,

  Day
after day,

  You feel like running

  But it’s all your fault,

  That empty bottle

  The overflowing ashtray

  It’s all just salt

  On the festering guilt you made me carry

  From city to city

  Skipping dreams and solar beams

  Yeah, it’s all your fault…

  I felt every hair on my body rise with his voice as he carried the melody to the rafters, and the room swelled, the audience bottled inside for the minutes Everett held them captive for.

  The thundering rumble of Graham on the drums drowned out half the cheering, and when he hit the cymbal with an ending clash, that was when it happened.

  Red eyes opened, and Everett looked up. One look made sure I felt it all. Everything I’d tried to suffocate clawed straight back to the surface, and Aiden steadied me as my knees quaked.

  I shouldn’t have ignored his calls, was the only thing I could think as Aiden turned me to face him, asking again if I was okay.

  “I’m fine.” Blinking away the mist in my eyes, I waved a hand toward the stage. “I just…” I blew out a trembling breath, knowing I’d have to be honest. “I know them. It’s my…” I stopped and licked my dried lips. “My brother’s band.”

  Aiden’s dark stare held mine a beat longer, and then his hands left my face as he was wrenched back and shoved into the bustling crowd.

  “Everett,” I yelled when he advanced on Aiden, predatory intent in every step.

  “Who are you?” I heard him growl over the noise.

  Thankfully, no one besides the few people at the bar seemed to be paying us any mind.

  That changed when Aiden’s eyes gleamed. “Her boyfriend.”

  “Aiden,” I pleaded just as Everett swung.

  He missed, which was probably thanks to the whiskey and the flask peeking out of his back pocket, but Aiden still tipped, almost falling to the floor when he ducked and lurched back.

  “This is the guy you were talking about, Petal?”

  “Petal?” Everett snarled, sending a heated glare at me over his shoulder.