Table of Contents
Keeping It Together
Book Details
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Epilogue
About the Author
Keeping It Together
S. A. WINTERS
Sian should be tucked in bed when she meets Alisha Hart—beautiful, talented, and the star of a band that's on its way up. Alisha doesn't have to worry about curfews or homework or overprotective parents; in fact, she doesn't seem to care about rules at all. She makes her own, and lives life her way—something Sian can only dream of, and which draws her helplessly to Alisha. But love is complicated, and if there's such a thing as fate, it seems dead set against them.
Keeping it Together
By S. A. Winters
Published by Less Than Three Press LLC
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the publisher, except for the purpose of reviews.
Edited by Nicole Field
Cover designed by Aisha Akeju
This book is a work of fiction and all names, characters, places, and incidents are fictional or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is coincidental.
Second Edition November 2018
First Edition published in Rocking Hard Volume 3 October 2013
Copyright © 2018 by S. A. Winters
Printed in the United States of America
Digital ISBN 9781684313914
One
"Come on," Tilly pleaded. "It'll be fun, I swear!"
Sian glanced at her watch. It was almost midnight. Her dad would kill her if he knew she'd stayed out this late. "I don't know..." she said, but there wasn't much conviction in it. She wanted to stay; she just didn't think she should. After all, they had college in the morning.
"You're staying at my house, aren't you?" Tilly said. "It's not like anyone's gonna know. Besides..." She grinned. "My house, my rules." She didn't even wait for a reply before she was half-dragging Sian across the room.
Sian took a deep breath, and went with it. When Tilly wanted to do something, there was no arguing with her. And what she wanted right now was to snog her new boyfriend's face off.
Tilly dragged her through a door leading to the back of the club. Sian half-expected to be stopped by a bouncer, to be told they weren't important enough and needed VIP passes or something, but there wasn't anyone to hold them up, and they slipped through into a small hallway that smelled of sweat and bleach. Sian had never been backstage anywhere before, unless you counted compulsory school drama performances, where 'backstage' was really just a classroom around the corner. It made her nervous. Really, the club wasn't that big or that popular, and the band weren't famous or anything, but still, they were the band, and this was backstage. Even if it wasn't really, it still kind of felt like trespassing.
There were a couple of people milling about outside one of the doorways, two guys, one she recognised as the drummer, with long, straggly black hair and thick-framed glasses, and another unfamiliar man, whose hair was dyed green and spiked up like a punk from the seventies.
"Alright, loves?" the punk greeted them, leaning against the wall. He didn't seem annoyed that they were here, and some of the tension eased from Sian's shoulders.
"Great, thanks." Tilly beamed at him. "Is Mac back there?"
"Aye." The punk jerked his head toward the open door, and the drummer moved aside to let them pass.
The room was full of people, most of them sitting on upturned crates, some leaning against the sturdy metal shelving units that lined the walls. It had probably been used as a stock room at some point, but tonight it was the band's storage and dressing area. Most of the people were men. The only other woman in the room was the band's lead guitarist and vocalist. She was leaning against the wall and lighting up a cigarette despite the red No Smoking sign right next to her head. Nobody seemed to mind.
"Mac," Tilly breathed and abruptly let go of Sian's hand, pushing past a guy with blond dreadlocks and jumping into the arms of the bass guitarist, a man in his 20s with red, spiky hair.
Someone shoved past her to get out of the room, and Sian was almost knocked into the doorframe. Nobody was paying her any attention, and she just hovered there, feeling awkward and out of place. Someone laughed, and she twitched, wondering if they were laughing at her.
"Mac." The band's front woman pushed away from the wall. "Do you have to keep inviting these kids? It's getting to be a thing with you."
Mac just grinned at her and went back to kissing Tilly.
"How old are you, love?" the woman asked, stepping closer and eyeing Sian up. Sian shivered; she felt like a sheep locked in the gaze of a hungry fox. Her skin tingled.
"Nineteen," she said. "Hardly a kid."
Smoke curled up from the woman's cigarette, and Sian could taste the bitter tang of it in her mouth and the back of her throat, making her want to cough. "Nineteen?" The woman laughed. "You're not nineteen."
"Do you want to see my ID?" Sian asked, and the woman laughed again.
"Leave the girl alone, Alisha," a tall, thin guy with cropped blond hair said, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "She's here to have fun, not to be interrogated, am I right?" He turned to her, and Sian nodded.
"Alright." Alisha shrugged and returned to her spot against the wall. "Come, then, sit. Have a beer." She grabbed a bottle from the crate, pulled her cigarette away from her mouth, and bit down on the cap. Sian winced, expecting her to crack a tooth, but when Alisha pulled the bottle away from her mouth, the cap was still clenched between her teeth.
Sian gaped. "How did you do that? Didn't it hurt?"
Alisha shook her head. "Just a talent I have." She kicked a plastic crate with her boot, indicating that Sian should sit. "You're really nineteen?" she asked.
Sian nodded, and watched as a slow, wicked smile spread across Alisha's face. Her stomach did a weird flip, and she clutched the beer tighter.
"Guess that means you make into my bracket, then, huh?" Alisha said, and winked.
Sian wanted to ask what she meant by 'her bracket.' Instead she said, "How old are you?" She knew she shouldn't really ask strangers their age, but Alisha had taken an interest in hers, so the rule probably didn't apply here.
"I'm twenty-six," Alisha said, shooting her a rueful grin and running a hand through her hair.
Sian smiled, the alcohol making her bold. "Wow," she said. "You're old."
Alisha arched one eyebrow, something Sian had always wanted to be able to do. "Oh, am I?" she said, and Sian's stomach knotted.
"I was just joking," Sian mumbled, backtracking quickly. "You don't look old, like, old, I mean... you're beautiful." And she was, with smooth, perfect skin the colour of strong tea, a ring of roses tattooed on her left wrist, and perfectly straight, black hair that stopped just above her shoulders, the ends dyed a vivid, electric blue. Sian had thought Alisha was beautiful back when she'd watched her sing. She'd gotten caught up in every sweep of her arm, every swish of her head, every word that fell from her mouth, and now... now Sian had made herself look like an idiot. She blushed furiously, ducking her head, hiding behind her thick frizz of hair.
Nimble fingers tickled her chin, pressing her head back up so her eyes caught Alisha's. They were very green, Sian noticed, dark like seaweed.
Alisha didn't look offended or disgusted. She was smiling, an amused quirk to the corners of her lips. "You think so?" she asked, and Sian nodded, her face red. Her stomach was doing
strange things, like little jolts of electricity were being generated there and zapping through the rest of her body, like she'd been quickly turned inside out and back again but could still feel the exposure to air and light on the inside. Alisha's face was very close to her own, and she couldn't look away from those kohl-lined eyes, her jaw caught in Alisha's grip.
And then Alisha's mouth was pressed against her own, and although Sian's first instinct was to tug away, Alisha held her still, and when her tongue pressed against Sian's lips, she didn't resist, just opened up and let the heat flood through her.
When Alisha pulled away, she was smiling and her cigarette had burnt down to the butt. Sian wasn't quite sure what had happened. She felt very strange, lightheaded and a little bit nauseous.
When she turned around, Tilly was staring at her like she'd never seen her before.
Sian stood. "I want to go home," she muttered, and for once, Tilly didn't argue.
*~*~*
Alisha leaned against the balcony railing and took another drag on her menthol cigarette. The city lights stretched out before her, thousands of yellow dots against the black night. She turned her back on them, leaned down and grabbed a beer from the crate by her feet. As she straightened, she noticed a thin strand of blonde, curly hair clinging to the thigh of her jeans. Picking it up, she threaded it through her fingers and smiled.
She tipped her head back, breathing in smoke and watching the flashing red and white lights of an aeroplane crossing the sky. Sian. She liked the sound of that, the way it drew itself out until it was silenced by that final consonant.
A soft mewling brought her back to the balcony, where Bolan wound himself around her ankles. She chuckled softly. "Okay, okay. I'll feed you."
Reluctantly, she headed inside, leaving the door open behind her, and pulled open the fridge where half a can of tuna sat in the door. She spooned it into a bowl and deposited it onto the floor. Bolan meowed happily and tucked in.
Crossing the flat to the desk by the balcony door, she sat and pulled open her laptop. She opened another beer whilst waiting for it to start up, and indulged Bolan with a good scratch behind the ear.
"Okay," she murmured to herself as she brought up the browser and typed in the link for Facebook. "Time to play creepy stalker lady."
She typed Mac's name into the search bar, went through his page to find the girl he was seeing, Tilly, and from there she was able to find Sian, her profile picture a black and white shot that showed just the top of her face, her two most striking features jumping out at Alisha despite the lack of colour—her pale, tight-curling hair and her wide, thick-lashed eyes.
Alisha smiled to herself. Yes, she definitely wanted to see Sian again. She clicked on her info, and her luck was in: there was a mobile phone number at the bottom of the page.
She pulled her phone out of her pocket just in time. As she did so, Bolan jumped up onto her lap, sniffing the edge of keyboard and then turning to look up at her with big yellow eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I know," she said, rolling her eyes at him. "It's weird, but guess what? I don't give a fuck." She unlocked her phone and keyed in the number.
Two
Sian set the cutlery out on the table, making sure the knives and forks were aligned straight, the way her mother liked them. Three places, her dad at one end and her mum at the other, herself in the centre, facing the window.
She was just setting the salt and pepper down when her dad came in. His tie was loose, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar. He'd replaced his shoes with slippers and his suit jacket with a ratty grey cardigan. He ruffled her hair and took his seat. "How was school today?" he asked.
Sian shrugged. "It's college, Dad, and it was okay, I guess." Truth was, she hadn't been able to concentrate through any of it. She'd been too busy thinking about last night. Alisha's seaweed green eyes were etched into her mind, impossible to remove. She couldn't help thinking about Alisha's smile and the way she'd held Sian's face in her hands, firm but soft at the same time, wheedling but not really pressuring. Then there was the feel of her lips as they'd kissed, the heat of her tongue. Sian tried to remember the last time she'd been kissed like that, and couldn't. She'd only kissed a couple of boys before, and it had been okay, but nothing like the way it felt when Alisha had kissed her.
Even in art, usually one of her favourite subjects, she'd realised her heart just wasn't in it. Although she usually enjoyed art theory, she kept missing chunks of the lecture, her attention zoning in briefly enough to jot down a couple of disconnected words, and then zoning back out again as she caught sight of a bottle of green paint across the room, green like Alisha's eyes.
Did liking Alisha mean she was gay? She couldn't imagine her dad would take it well if she announced that over dinner. But come to think of it, her earliest crushes had been girls, hadn't they? And she couldn't ever really remember liking a boy as much as she did any of those girls.
She sighed, blowing a stray curl out of her face. She was way too old to be having a sexuality crisis. She wasn't gay; she was just confused because some girl had kissed her in a bar. Really, it wasn't like she was ever going to see her again, so why did it even matter?
"Just okay, huh?" he chuckled. "Honestly, it's a good job we didn't decide to put you in public school, else we'd be spending a fortune on nothing."
"Oh dear, you're not still on about public school, are you? I think the time for that has well and truly flown," her mother said, bringing in the dishes, a fond smile on her face.
Sian took the plates from her and set them down on the table. Just then her phone buzzed in her pocket. Frowning, she pulled it out and looked at the number. It wasn't listed. She glanced at her dad, who nodded, and she put the phone to her ear. "Hello?"
"Sian, right?" A woman's voice, strangely familiar but not immediately recognisable.
"Yes? Who's this?"
"Guess."
Sian bit her lip as she realised who was speaking to her, and quickly scuttled out of the room away from her parents' attentive ears. "Alisha?" she asked, keeping her voice low. "Who gave you—"
There was a low chuckle, rich and warm, that made Sian's skin tingle. "I have my methods."
"Did... did you want something?" Sian asked, stumbling over the sentence and blushing. She was glad Alisha couldn't see her right now.
"How about dinner? This Thursday night?"
"Uhm." Sian teased her lower lip with her teeth, thinking it over. "I'm not sure—"
"Oh, go on. I'm paying."
Sian thought for a moment. Her parents could find out, and that was a whole can of worms she didn't want to open. And she didn't even know if she liked Alisha that way. Oh, who was she kidding? Of course she liked Alisha that way. She couldn't deny it; even now a buzzing, fluttering feeling was returning to her chest and stomach, and Alisha wasn't even in the room. Sian remembered that kiss, that brief, intense kiss, and she wanted more.
"Okay," she said. "Where do you want to go?"
"I know a place. How about we meet by the lighthouse? Say, seven?"
"Okay," Sian said again.
"Great. See you then."
She clicked the phone off and headed back into the dining room.
"Who was that?" her mum asked, turning to look at her.
"Oh, just Tilly," she said, taking her seat.
*~*~*
When Thursday came, it felt almost sudden. Sian had been waiting for it for so long that when it actually arrived, it seemed like she had no time at all and she'd found herself in a rush to get ready. Now, she stood outside the lighthouse, hands stuffed into her coat pockets to stop them from shaking.
It was seven o' clock, and Alisha wasn't there. She was probably just late, Sian told herself, but she couldn't help the creeping feeling that she was going to be stood up.
"Penny for them?"
Sian jumped and whirled around to see Alisha standing right behind her. Without thinking, she slapped a hand at Alisha's shoulder. "Don't do that," she chastised, her heart still thudding.
Alisha just smiled. "Shall we?" she said, gesturing down the street.
Sian kept sneaking glances the whole way to the restaurant. Alisha looked amazing in her long black coat, tight jeans and red DMs. If Sian had to look like someone else, she'd want to look like Alisha.
The restaurant didn't seem like much from the outside, just another old stone building by the harbour with a chalkboard sign saying 'Food Here.' Inside, it was a mixture of old and new, a large fireplace at one side of the room, heavy timber beams, and a deep red carpet. The tables were a dark mahogany, and a metal staircase spiralled up from the far corner of the room. It was dark inside, the shaded lamps and dusty chandeliers struggling to illuminate the room. The music was old blues, although Sian couldn't identify the singer.
The waiter led them up the stairs to a corner table by the window. From her seat, Sian could see out across the harbour, could smell the saltwater through the open window and hear the gulls crying in the distance over the music. It was a good choice.
She didn't know what made her say it. "Do you take all your dates here?" Sian asked, aiming for light and grimacing when it fell short.
Alisha glanced up from her menu. "Some," she said. "Does that bother you?"
Sian shook her head and ducked down to peruse her menu.
"I don't take them here to impress them, you know," Alisha continued. "It's because I like it here. Seriously, any chance to eat here, I'll take it."
Sian risked glancing up. Alisha was grinning at her.
"You're the first girl I've seen more than once in quite some time, you know. Most of them only last a night. But tonight makes two. Feel special now?"
Sian let out a small huff of laughter that caught her by surprise. "Immensely," she said, rolling her eyes and glancing back down at her menu.
"Do you date much?" Alisha asked, her head cocked slightly to one side.
Sian bit her lip and shook her head.
"No, you're far too sweet for that." Alisha grinned.
"I'm not sweet," Sian said, shooting her a glare.
Alisha laughed, tipping her head back. "Oh, honey," she said. "You're fucking adorable."
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