The Girl in the Love Song (Lost Boys Book 1)

by Emma Scott

  For a long time, I lay staring at the ceiling, thinking about what came next. Moving to Texas. Miller moving to Los Angeles to make his record. My parents moving to opposite ends of the country to get away from each other. So many roads that once ran parallel now diverging, and I had no idea where mine would take me. Or how far from Miller.

  I’d nearly fallen asleep, when the familiar creak came from outside my bedroom window on the trellis. It was open to let in the summer air, and then Miller was there. He climbed through and hopped off my desk, setting his bags and his guitar case on the floor.

  I shot up to sitting, my eyes and heart drinking him in. “You’re here.”

  “I hope it’s okay I came. I can’t go home.”

  I scrambled out of bed and rushed to him, threw my arms around him, concealing my turmoil against his neck.

  “Hey…” He stroked my hair. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  I shook my head against his chest and pulled myself together. “Nothing. God, Miller, I’m so happy for you. Tell me everything.”

  He pulled back; his beautiful topaz eyes were lit up, and for the first time in a long time, he looked happy. The heavy burden of poverty lifting off of him just a little.

  “I can’t fucking believe it,” he said. “They talked to me for a while and then took me into a studio. They wanted to get something down that day. To test me out, or…I don’t know what.” He gave his head a disbelieving shake, then his gaze softened. “I sang ‘Yellow.’ Our song. Because it was the first song I ever performed in front of someone else. For you, Violet. You are the reason this happened for me.”

  I shook my head. “It was Evelyn. Her vlog—”

  “No,” he said fiercely, holding my face in his hands. “You believed in me first. You didn’t wait for a thousand views or a hundred comments. You’ve known who I was from the beginning. You accepted me, dirt poor and stinking of the station wagon.” He moved in closer, his gaze boring intently into mine. “I’m going to make this album, and every fucking song is going to be for you. Every one.”

  My eyes fell shut, and I leaned into him, my hands on his waist, letting him prop me up. Feeling the solidity of him. He sensed something deeper was happening in me, as he always did.

  “Vi?” He pulled back and his expression fell to see my tears. “I know. It’s going to suck being in LA, away from you. But I can jump on a plane and be here in an hour.”

  “I want you to kiss me, Miller. Please.” His concerned frown lingered, so I brought my lips to his and kissed him. Softly, then harder. Seeking entry. Needing to lose myself in him.

  My ardor woke his and his mouth took over the kiss, devouring mine. Our tongues slid against one another in perfect tandem, perfect rhythm; our heads moving side to side, breathing in sync. In harmony.

  Because we just fit.

  He pulled away breathlessly. “Jesus, I almost forgot. Happy Birthday, Vi.”

  “You know what that means.”

  “I do,” he said, his eyes darkening, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “You sure?”

  I wasn’t sure of anything anymore except him. He had to know about Baylor, but not yet. We didn’t have to do anything but this.

  We breathed together, our eyes locked in the thickness of the moment. Our lips touched and retreated; another look from Miller, checking in. And then we kissed long and deep. Like drinking from each other. Slow kisses that left no room for breath, and I poured myself into every one of them. I filled my hands with his hair, his broad shoulders over his T-shirt, down to the small of his back. But still, I felt his hesitation with desire simmering beneath.

  “Touch me, Miller,” I whispered. “Touch me everywhere.”

  The certainty in my words set him free. He lifted my shirt over my head, my hair falling around my shoulders. His hooded gaze swept over me, leaving shivers in its wake.

  “So beautiful,” he said, his hands full of my breasts, his lips hot against the delicate skin of my neck. “I want this so much.”

  A little sound fell from my lips to hear such nakedly vulnerable words in his rough voice. “Me too.”

  Then more kissing until we’d come to the end of chaste touches. I lifted his shirt off and drank him in, my hands on him everywhere, down to the CGM implant.

  “Will it be safe?”

  “I think so,” he said. “I don’t know, actually. I’ve never done this before.”

  “I still can’t believe you waited for me.”

  He shrugged with a small smile. “You waited for me. We waited for each other, because when you push all the bullshit aside, who else is there? There’s no one for me but you. There never was.”

  He kissed me again, our bodies molded together, his body a wall of muscle under warm skin, his hands rough as they slid up and down my back. He’d worked so hard with those hands, carried so much on his shoulders, and pride filled me that I was going to give him this night.

  I went to the bed, pulling him with me, and lay back. The weight of him felt so good. So solid and real, anchoring me into the present moment when my thoughts wanted to drift away to a future in which we’d be miles apart.

  He kissed me deeply and with such reverence. Our bodies responding to each other without thought. Instinct only. My hips arched up to meet his while his ground down into me, like they did the last time he was here. This time, anticipation of the more that was coming electrified every moment. Unexplored sensations and untouched skin, waiting.

  He undid the buttons on his jeans while I slipped off my shorts. He kicked off his underwear while I slid my panties down and tossed them aside.

  A flash of heat swept through me along with a tinge of nervous anticipation at the sight of his penis, huge and erect, but he quickly moved to lay over me. My heart was pounding, and it seemed I could feel every part of Miller. I could hear his blood pumping in his veins, feel every slight move and vibration of his body: his bones and flesh and sinew. I felt all of it over me, and I wanted him inside me. I wanted that masculine power, the essence of him, moving and taking.

  We kissed and touched until our bodies were both on the brink, crossing the line of hesitation into pure want. He sat up and I sat up with him, naked on my bed. I stared at the size of him, shocked at my own calmness. I felt feminine and womanly in the face of his masculinity. I placed my hand over his heart, felt it beating hard, then moved down his chest, to the magnificent, hard length of him. I wrapped my fingers around its girth, and he made a tight sound in his chest. He seemed to grow bigger in my hand as I stroked him hesitantly.

  “Does this feel good?”

  He nodded wordlessly. “Everything you do feels good.”

  Miller kissed me while I stroked him, and his hand slipped between my legs, feeling the heat and wetness he’d already created in me.

  “Jesus, Vi.”

  “I want you,” I whispered. “Now.”

  His eyes searched mine again, his breath trembling over his lips.

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  He kissed me softly, then grabbed for a condom out of his wallet and rolled it down. I lay back, taking him with me. He positioned himself at the center of me, his body thrumming and vibrating over me. I brought my knees up, letting him in, my hands gripping his hips as he guided himself into me, one inch at a time.

  My breath hitched at the pain.

  “I’m hurting you.”

  “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

  Slowly, he pushed in farther, and I felt myself stretching to contain him, tearing open to take all of him. The pain was grating and rough but beautiful, too, and it subsided quickly.

  “God, Vi,” he whispered. “I had no idea…”

  “Me either,” I breathed back. We were utterly safe and private, sharing this experience completely with no one else in the room.

  “Does it feel okay?” I asked him tentatively. Tightly.

  He nodded against my neck. “Incredible. You feel incredible.”

  We kissed again, easier now.
I was adjusting to the feel of him inside me, my body getting used to the size and heavy hardness of him. Slowly, he pulled out and then pushed back in. Over and over.

  I bit my lip at the sensations, the fading pain and a faint ache of pleasure, like a promise waiting to burn brighter another time. His slow, careful thrusts quickly became more. He moved faster, kissing me constantly, holding my face, and asking me if I was all right. He never let me forget that he wasn’t losing himself in his own pleasure until finally the words melted away.

  I wrapped my legs around Miller’s body, anchoring him to me as he moved inside me. My arms clutched his neck and my fingers in his hair that was damp with sweat.

  He grunted, jaw clenched. “Vi…”

  “Come,” I managed. “Come inside me.”

  My words sent him over. Miller’s body shuddered against mine, his face contorted in a pleasure-pain expression. A few final, erratic thrusts, and then he collapsed over me.

  Tears gathered in the corners of my eyes and spilled down my cheeks as I wrapped my arms around him, feeling his naked chest expand against mine as we caught our breath. I held onto him, clung to him and this moment, this experience of having him and giving myself to him. He was mine. He’d always been mine since the day we met and maybe even before that.

  The sun was going to rise on a new day and take him away from me, but for those delirious moments and the handful of hours that came after, I had him, and it was perfect.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  As the morning light streamed in from the window, I woke up with Miller wrapped around me. My body ached in the best way. I held onto the feeling, relished it. He’d been inside me, and I could still feel him there. My first.

  My only.

  I shut my eyes and snuggled closer to him, my back to his chest. His arm around me and his breath, deep and even in sleep, against my neck. I started to drift off again when my phone vibrated with a call amongst the pile of our discarded clothes.

  Sleepily, I peered down to see Evelyn’s name. I started to ignore it, but then, why would she call me? To gloat? Or was it an emergency?

  I stretched out of Miller’s embrace and grabbed the phone. I curled to the edge of the bed and kept my voice low.

  “Hey, Evelyn, what is it?”

  A short silence. “Violet?”

  “Yes.” I frowned. “Did you mean to call someone else?”

  “I’m calling Miller. Isn’t this his phone?”

  “What? No…” I examined the phone I held and realized she was right. “Oh, sorry. I was half asleep.”

  “Is he there?”

  “He is,” I said tightly. “Sleeping.”

  If it shocked or upset Evelyn to know Miller and I were in bed together, she didn’t show it. “Okay, don’t wake him. Just pass on the message that I’m ready to go whenever he is. Oh, and tell him, thanks again! Ciao!”

  The phone went quiet, and I stared at it for a few moments. The screen reverted back to its locked position, but a text notification was there, the start of the message visible. From Evelyn, sent last night.

  You did it, baby!! xoxoxoxo…

  I set the phone on the nightstand and lay on my back.

  Ready to go…where?

  Miller slept for another few minutes then slowly came awake. He glanced around confused, sleep still clinging to him, and his gaze landed on me. The smile that came over him to see me was so beautiful and soft…and short-lived.

  “What is it? Was last night…? Was it too much?”

  “Last night was perfect.”

  He looked almost shy. “I thought so too. But what’s wrong?”

  “Evelyn called you,” I said, sitting up against the headboard and tucking the sheet around me. “I answered your phone by mistake. She said to tell you she’s ready to go whenever you are.”

  Miller’s head fell back, and he rolled his eyes at the ceiling. “Goddamn her.”

  “What is she talking about?”

  He sat up beside me, covering himself to the waist, and ran a hand through his tousled hair. “She’s talking about Los Angeles. I promised her that if I signed a contract, I’d take her with me to record the album. As my personal assistant.”

  My skin went cold all over, while my cheeks burned as if I’d been slapped.

  “Why…why would you do that? Do you need a personal assistant?”

  “I don’t need anything,” he said. “It’s for her. To get her foot in the door. To make her own connections and then she’s gone. I wouldn’t have even entertained the idea except she needs…help. I can’t tell you more. I promised her I wouldn’t.” He bit off a curse. “I know how it looks—”

  “How does it look, Miller?” I asked, my voice cracking. “Are you going to be living with her?”

  “No. I don’t know where I’m going to live, but… no. There’s nothing between us, I swear. And yes, I can hear myself. I sound like a fucking jackass. I was going to tell you first and explain everything.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me before you left? How long have you and she been planning this?”

  “Nothing’s planned. She made me promise before I left. Literally, on the way to the airport. It sounded crazy and impossible, but, then again, so did getting a record deal in the first place.”

  I shook my head and climbed out of bed, feeling more naked than I was. I quickly pulled on a T-shirt and my shorts.

  “Talk to me, Vi,” Miller said. He cleared his throat. “I thought you trusted me.”

  “I don’t trust her. She plays the long game, Miller. It took her the entire school year to get back at me for being Homecoming Queen, but she did it. And somehow arranged for you to be Prom King.”

  He made a face, then snorted. “No way. That’s fucking ridiculous.”

  “It’s true. You didn’t see it. Her. Taking ownership of you in front of the entire school. In front of me. It was humiliating. But more than that…it just hurt.”

  Miller rummaged on the floor for his underwear, pulled them on, and then came to me.

  “I’m sorry, Vi. I don’t know what she’s doing, except that I wouldn’t have a contract if not for her. And right this second, I fucking need it. They gave me money. An advance. I can give it to my mom and get rid of Chet.” He tentatively held both my shoulders. “I swear, I belong to you. And I know it feels like a slap in the face. I can see it in your eyes, and I…” He bit off his words, frustration and pain suffusing him. He swallowed hard. “I’m in love with you. Nothing can ever change that.”

  “She’s going to try,” I said in a small voice.

  “And fail. She’s going to fail because I won’t even let her try.”

  Jealousy and self-doubt rampaged in me. But I knew Miller. Once he’d made a promise, he kept it. He promised to help Evelyn and I couldn’t ask him not to keep it.

  “I have to trust you,” I said. “Or we have nothing.”

  Miller pulled me into him, wrapping me in his strong embrace. His voice rumbled in my ear that was pressed to his warm, bare chest. “You can trust me. I’m doing her a favor, that’s all. You’ll be an hour away. I’ll visit you, or you can visit me this summer, before your classes start. And the very fucking second the album’s done, I’ll come back—”

  “I won’t be here.”

  His arms around me stiffened. “What, why?”

  “My parents are divorcing and selling the house. There’s no money for UCSC, so I’m going to Texas. Baylor’s going to pay my tuition.”

  “Texas,” he said, letting me go and slumping to sit on the edge of the bed. “Jesus. When did this happen?”

  “I found out yesterday. They’re broke. There’s nothing left.”

  He shook his head, eyes on the ground. “I’m sorry, Vi. And UCSC. I know that was your dream.”

  I sat on the bed next to him. “What are we going to do?”

  “I don’t know. Gold Line is going to make an EP, and if the timing works out, there’s talk of a tour. I’d join Ed Sheeran as an opening act
.”

  “Ed Sheeran? My God… That’s huge,” I said, wondering how my heart could swell with happiness and break at the same time.

  “It’s not a sure thing but shit, Vi. I thought that would be the hardest thing to deal with. Being apart from you for that long.” His eyes widened at a sudden thought, and he turned to me, taking my hand. “Come with me.”

  “Where? To Los Angeles?”

  “Yes, and if the tour happens, you come with me then too.”

  “What about my school?”

  “Just for a year. Jack Villegas, the guy at Gold Line, he really fucking believes in me, Vi. Just like you do. Maybe I’ll make enough money to pay for your college. Next year, you can go to UCSC or UCLA. We can make it work.”

  He was so full of hope after years of mistrust and doubt. But I shook my head.

  “I can’t,” I said.

  His face fell, his eyes hardening. “Because of Evelyn?”

  “Not just her, but yes, that’s part of it. She’ll at least have a job. A purpose. What would I do? Tag along after the two of you? And what about my own plans? Accepting Baylor’s offer is going to help my med school applications. Because I still have about ten more years of college ahead of me. I have to stay sharp. I can’t take a year off or put it on hold.”

  His gaze hardened, his jaw tight. “Then I can. I can call up Jack and—”

  “Absolutely not,” I said. “You have to go and make that album, and I have to pursue my goals. You can’t pay for them, and I can’t abandon them for a year to follow you around. I’d be miserable.”

  “Miserable,” he stated. “You’d be with me.”

  Tears filled my eyes. “Miller…”

  “No, I get it. It’s not enough,” he said and I could hear the words he didn’t.

  I’m not enough. Again.

  The thought was loud in his eyes, swimming with memories of another time someone left him.

  “Miller, wait,” I said as he began throwing on his clothes. “We need to keep talking. Sort this out.”