by Fields, MJ
I’m not a scumbag—these girls always come on to me. I don’t mislead them; I’m very open that I won’t do anything more. For some reason, that seems to turn them on. I don’t know why, maybe it’s the thrill of the hunt, or trying to be the one girl to beat out the rest. I think they all silently hope they’ll be the one to change me and finally get the first taste from my lips, but it will never happen. I’m not complaining one bit though.
I move Tracy slightly to the side so I can sit down on the bed and enjoy the feeling of this chick’s mouth wrapped around my dick that much more. No, she’s not Lily, but she’ll do the job for now.
Lily
After I sit down and my teacher starts his lesson, I pull the paper Trevin handed me out of my back pocket. I’ve grown to love these notes. They’re so much more though—they’re poems or lyrics he’s written. I know I’m the only person he shares them with, and it helps me know that the real Trevin, the boy I’ve known since I was eight, is still in there.
When I unfold two sides I see his writing:
My Lily Pad, shy like a little turtle.
One day we’ll get ice cream,
Just hope she’s not a fertile myrtle.
I laugh out loud, cupping my hand over my mouth to silence my laughter. His silliness has no boundaries. Morgan glances my way, and when she sees the note in my hand, she shakes her head.
“Seriously, Lily, what is going on with you two?” she whispers so the teacher doesn’t hear her.
“Nothing, you know that.”
“Liar. Your face lights up every time you read his notes. What do they say anyway?”
I hold it close to my body, like I’m protecting it with my life. This is my thing with Trevin, and I don’t share it with anyone, not even Morgan.
“See, you won’t even show me. Lily, you never talk about other guys. I’ve never even seen you check out anyone else. Why don’t you two just do it already,” she spits out before turning her attention back to the teacher. I can’t tell if she’s truly irritated or just worried about me. She doesn’t understand Trevin—none of my friends do. They don’t see the boy I know—my best friend.
My lips tilt into a smile as I think about his ice cream comment, but it fades fast when the reality of what Morgan is saying hits me hard. She’s right. And so is Trevin. I am shy, almost to a fault. I don’t put myself out there or even talk to other guys…but they don't talk to me, either. Just him.
Glancing down at the note, flipping over the other folds, I see there’s something more inside.
I’m so different, I hardly know who I am.
The only thing that keeps me going is knowing she gives a damn.
I’ll wait for the day, till I feel her fire.
Knowing deep down she’s my only desire.
And there it is. That’s why. He’s enough. He’s all I need. I see no point in wasting my time with other guys who will use me or hurt me when Trevin’s…everything. Even if it’s only as my best friend.
* * *
As I get ready for my big dance recital, I peek out from behind the curtain to see what the crowd looks like. I’m on the school’s dance team, but I still perform with the same studio I did growing up. I’m lucky enough to become an instructor, and tonight is my last performance in the company as a student. To close out my time with the studio, I’m doing a solo routine to end the night before they announce my new role.
My nerves settle only to be replaced with a happiness that raises my heart to feel like it’s floating away. At the back door, I see Trevin walk in by himself, looking like a lost puppy. It’s not the single red rose he’s carrying that brings a tear to my eye, though—it’s his outfit. I don’t know where he even got the brown slacks or a light green button-up top, much less the plaid tie. His shirt is more wrinkled than it should be, and his tie is not quite straight, but just the fact that he dressed up for me puts a huge smile on my face. This look is so far in the opposite direction of his everyday attire that I ponder what prompted the change.
The lights dim, drawing my attention away from my best friend as the music starts signifying the beginning to the show, so I head back to help the younger girls get ready before my final performance.
When it’s over, my parents come backstage to congratulate me, and my mom informs me I have a visitor waiting outside. The way she says visitor tells me she’s talking about Trevin, and makes me wonder how many scoops of ice cream she thinks we’ve had together. She’s constantly teasing me about our relationship, and I know she is just as amazed as I am to see him dressed so differently.
When I walk out to greet him, he’s standing against the wall, holding the rose in his hand and looking down at the floor.
“Look at you,” I tease, bringing him out of his trance.
He looks up and I watch as his eyes light up when he caresses my body from head to toe with his gaze. The contemporary costume leaves little to the imagination with the low-cut neckline and thin spaghetti straps. It fits like perfection from my shoulders to my waist before the skirt billows out in sheer fabric that stops just below my knee. The slit up the side of the skirt adds just a hint of sex appeal and allows my legs to move freely. I’m filled with pride at Trevin’s approval. Then, I see that look in his eye—the one acknowledging he sees me as more than just his best friend.
His lips curl up into a sexy smirk as he holds out the flower, never pulling his eyes away from mine.
“Thank you for coming.” My voice is timid, as is my reach for the beautiful flower. I can’t help but cast my gaze down toward the ground, unsure of what to do with his lust-filled eyes.
His fingers curl around my wrist and he pulls me into him, bringing me right where I belong. Wrapped in his arms, pressed against his chest, my hands run over his wrinkled shirt, and I can’t help but giggle.
“Whose shirt?” I ask.
He looks down, smiling a goofy smile. “It’s Brent’s. We had a hell of a time figuring out how to tie this thing.” He reaches for his tie, trying to make it straighter.
“Well, you look very handsome.” I can hardly contain my excitement over Trevin going to these lengths for me.
His face lights up, and for a brief moment, we stare at each other, our eyes locked together like magnets.
Kristy, one of the younger girls I instruct, comes bouncing up to us. “Ms. Lily, is this your boyfriend?”
Both Trevin and I instantly separate and I reach down to pick up the tiny ballerina, who thankfully, broke our spell.
“No, Kristy. This is my best friend in the whole world.” I exaggerate “whole” like I’m her age again, emphasizing like it’s the only thing that’s important. “Can you say hi to Trevin?”
I’m surprised by the hurt look in his eyes when I glance up, but he blinks it quickly away before putting his hands back into his pockets and smiling brightly at the golden-haired child on my hip. “Nice to meet you. I loved your performance tonight.”
“You saw me?” She shines like the sun high in the sky from Trevin’s comment.
“Of course I did. Your green dress stood out from the white, blue, yellow and orange dresses. I take it you were the star of the show.”
He glances in my direction and winks at me with a slight smile pulling on his lips.
Kristy bounces in my arms, overwhelmed with excitement. “My mommy said the same thing!” She jumps down from my arms and runs straight to her mom’s leg, pulling on her shirt, and I watch the little girl tell her mom with exaggerated animation what Trevin said.
The dance Kristy was in was a representation of the sun rising. The younger girls were in the back, dressed in green, swaying as the grass while the older, more experienced dancers were the sun. Most people wouldn’t have paid attention to the tiny three and four-year-olds in the background—they’re lost as living scenery, only there to give them experience being on stage. Trevin noticing her melts my heart…and hers.
Someone calls my name, so I turn to Trevin. “I’ve got to run. Thanks for
coming tonight. And for getting dressed up.”
Both of his hands reach out, grabbing my waist and pulling me into him. “You looked beautiful up there. I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.”
I feel his light tug, bringing me even closer to his body as he places a soft kiss on my forehead. “Night, Lilies.”
My eyes squint and question him at the sound of a new nickname. He does nothing more than laugh and walk away. I’m utterly confused by our interaction and how it felt different than it normally does. Hopefully now though I might finally live down the Lily Pad nickname.
Eight
Forever.
It's not just a word.
Forever.
When will my voice be heard?
- Trevin Allen
Trevin - His 18th Birthday
Lily has me standing outside at noon on my birthday, which is really early after the night I had partying with the guys. She’s only told me she has a surprise for me and I needed to be ready.
“Okay, I’m here. Now where are you taking me?” I ask as she walks outside to meet me.
“It’s a surprise, but if we’re going to make it, we have to go now. You never know what traffic’s going to be like getting into the City.”
“Are you kidding me right now?”
“Nope. Oh, I forgot, though—you’ll need your electric guitar. Come on, go grab it and let’s go.” She waves me in the direction of my house, indicating my need to hurry.
Her excitement is contagious as she jumps up and runs to her mom’s car while I retrieve my guitar. It’s become my pride a joy since she gave it to me a year ago for my seventeenth birthday. She saved her money for over a year to be able to buy it for me—it blew me away then, and it still does now.
Once we arrive in San Francisco, we head to the infamous Fillmore. The place was made famous in the sixties after every big band played there. I’ve dreamed of seeing a concert here, but I’m not sure why we’re here at one thirty in the afternoon.
“Surprise!” she yells out as we reach the front door.
“Uh, okay. I’m confused. What are we doing here?”
“Sony Records is holding auditions, and I got you a slot!”
Holy Shit! “Are you kidding me right now?”
Her face lights up with the biggest smile I’ve ever seen. “Nope! I saw a flier when I was in town a few weeks ago visiting friends. I took the flier and sent them a demo I taped when you played in my room over the summer. You’re on at two, so we made it just in time. Come on.” She grabs my hand and pulls me into the venue, her excitement evident in her demeanor.
We enter a narrow hallway that opens up to a large room with a stage on the far end. A bar lines the back wall and you can see the upstairs peeking through the cutouts in the walls that are lined in every psychedelic concert poster ever made from the sixties. What I would have given to see the Grateful Dead or Jim Morrison play in this venue…
A man walks up with his hand stretched out to greet us. “You must be Trevin Allen.”
I switch my guitar and offer my right hand to the man. “Yes, I’m Trevin, and this is my friend, Lily.”
“Nice to meet you two. We’re almost ready for you. Go on and head backstage to get set up. You’re next in line.”
I look at Lily wide-eyed with a huge grin on my face. She giggles as she leans up to kiss my cheek. “Go knock ‘em dead.”
The guy on stage before me is good but not great. I’ve never played for anyone but Lily, but after seeing this guy’s skills, the confidence inside me threatens to overflow. Chills run up my arms as I walk backstage to get ready.
“Okay, next to the stage is Trevin Allen,” I hear them call from the huge, open room.
After taking a deep breath, I grab my guitar and head on stage for the opportunity of a lifetime. The first face I see is Lily’s, standing in the background—her hands are cupped around her mouth, but she can’t hide the smile behind them or her excitement as she bounces on her toes in anticipation. Seeing her there instantly calms any nerves threatening to creep up. A quick glance around shows the majority of the place is empty. The judges occupy a table they set up a little ways back for optimum sound quality.
“Whenever you’re ready,” the man says.
Without hesitation, I wrap the strap around my neck, holding it tightly to my body as I begin to play Jimi Hendrix’s, All Along the Watch Tower. I figure since we’re in the Fillmore, there can’t be a better choice to channel my inner guitar god.
My fingers fly over the strings and up and down the neck of the guitar as I keep my focus only on Lily. Having her here transports me mentally back to her room, playing a concert just for her instead of auditioning for one of the biggest record labels in the world.
Happiness rips through my feet, coursing through my body, and out of my fingers as I begin to dance around, feeling the music in my soul, putting on a show with everything in my being, and never skipping a beat or missing a note. I’m in absolute heaven, and I know this is what I’m meant to do, who I’m meant to be.
I belong on a stage.
Sadness threatens to tighten my throat as I play the last of the notes, not wanting this opportunity to end so soon. The guitar strings fade away as I look up into the eyes of two men sitting completely silent. Fear quickly sets in. I instantly start replaying the entire audition in my mind, wondering what I did wrong. I hadn’t missed a single note; I was spot on. But here they sat, quiet as mice, not saying a single word. They just stare at me, completely bewildered.
And I wait.
My fears disappear as one of the men slowly starts to clap in pure amazement as he stands, moving from behind the table and approaching me. “That…that was unreal. How old are you?” He reaches out to shake my hand.
“Thank you. I’m eighteen. Actually, today is my eighteenth birthday,” I reply, looking him straight in the eye and giving him a firm handshake.
“Well, Trevin, thank you for coming out and spending time with us on your birthday. We will definitely be in touch.”
The other guy, who had occupied the seat next to him, finally speaks up as he walks toward the stage, reaching out to grab my hand as well. “Definitely,” is all he says as we shake.
“Cool, thanks guys.” I jump off the stage and run straight into Lily’s arms. Picking her up, I swing her around, feeling truly free for the first time in my life.
We spend the rest of the day in the City, walking down the pier, being silly tourists, and taking pictures with the man who’s painted solid silver standing still like a statue. I love how comfortable the two of us are together. Other than when she’s up on stage during a dance recital, she’s more of an introvert at school and around her friends, but I bring her out of her shell—like nothing’s changed since we were eight years old.
On the way home, I can’t take my eyes off her face. Every few seconds, the streetlights give me a glimpse of just how beautiful she is. My life would be nothing without her and I’m beginning to think I’m ready to let her know how I feel. How I’ve felt for years.
* * *
One week later…
“Get the phone!” my dad screams from downstairs.
I’ve been trying to ignore him—and the female’s moans and screams—for the last half hour, but nothing I do can drown out the nausea going through me.
My fucking dad. I swear. I’ll never know why I was given this piece of shit for a father or who I pissed off in a former life that’s retaliating against me now. I guess it’s cool that he lets me do whatever I want, but fuck, sometimes it’s just too much. Nobody wants to hear their parent going at it with some random bitch on their living room couch. That’s just gross.
It’s past eleven at night, and the only phone in the house is in the kitchen. It rang over and over again for the last five minutes, but I couldn’t care less about answering it because that means I would have to walk by my old man and whatever whore he’s got with him—no thank you.
“Trevin, get the god
damn phone!” I hear him scream again.
Frustrated, I slam my pencil down on the poem I’m writing and stomp downstairs, trying to avoid seeing random body parts or anything else that might make me want to hurl in my mouth.
“What?” I answer, one hundred percent pissed off and not even pretending to hide my irritation.
“Yeah, is Trevin there?” a man with a slight British accent replies.
“You got him—who’s this?”
“Boy, I’m about to make your dreams come true. This is Arnie. I’m with Sony Records and I just saw your audition tape from San Francisco last week. Stone Cold’s lead guitarist just left the band and they need someone immediately. What do you say? You up for the ride of a lifetime?”
Tightness overwhelms my chest and the thought of air becomes foreign as I stand, frozen, trying to process what was just said. Stone Cold, the Stone Cold that I listen to every day. The one I fucking love with every part of me wants me to play for them. I’m in awe, dumbstruck by the notion that one afternoon, one audition, can bring my dreams to life.
Arnie laughing over the receiver brings me back to the present. “You still there, dude?”
I look up, just in time to see my dad flip the whore he has on the couch over and stick his disgusting, old-ass dick in her nasty, disease-ridden pussy. Without bothering to look away, I answer, “Fuck yeah. I’m in. When do you need me?”
“Glad to hear it. A car will pick you up at your house at five tomorrow morning to take you to SFO where you’ll hop a flight to LAX. I’ll be there myself to pick you up. Can you be ready to leave in that short amount of time?”
“I’m already ready,” I answer without hesitation.
“Great. Oh, and Trevin, strap your boots on tight, boy, your life just changed forever.”
He hangs up his end before I can respond, and after slamming down the phone, I look up to see my dad again, only this time, he’s calling me over. “Hey, son, I’m ready to blow here, but this little piece wants more,” he says, slapping her ass as he rams her hard. “You want in?”