Love Me Like You Do: Books That Keep You In Bed

by Fields, MJ

  He smirks, my favorite cocky grin, while he grips my hand with more intensity. I wonder how much he remembers of what he told me. I’ve heard countless stories over the years, but tonight was the first time he’s confirmed he’s never kissed anyone but me. Knowing he’s kept that piece of us sacred fills me with pride, hope and love for the boy, the man, who needs me now more than ever.

  * * *

  Trevin spent a few nights in the hospital and had to undergo a psychiatric evaluation, but he comes home tonight. We’ve been talking a lot, like we used to, which I’ve missed. I’ve seen glimpses of my Trevin coming back to me, and I need to ensure we stay on this path once he’s home.

  As we walk through the door, he sets his bag down and turns, wrapping his arms around me. “Thank you, Lilies. You’re always there for me.” We hold each other tight, not saying anything and just enjoying the moment of having him home.

  “Okay.” I break up the reunion, patting his back. “So, what’s the plan now?”

  He pulls back, looking around our place. “Fuck if I know.” He shrugs.

  “Have you thought about looking into therapy? Or why don't you play your guitar? I haven’t heard you play in months.” Trevin needs to get back to his roots and the things he loves—the ones that bring him peace, not heartache.

  He lets out a loud sigh. “I guess you’re right. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the subtle hints you’ve been dropping.” He winks. “I guess my guitar was always a form of therapy for me.”

  I moved his guitar out to the living room a few weeks ago, hoping if it were in front of him he would pick it up. I’ve moved it around multiple times in a silent game of do-you-see-me, hoping to entice him to play. At least I know he was paying attention.

  He sits on the couch and finally lifts the instrument to his lap. This is probably the longest time he’s gone without playing since the day I taught him how to strum all those years ago. I watch as his fingers feel around the neck of the guitar, moving up and down the strings until he holds his hands in place and starts to play.

  It’s a song I’ve heard him strum a hundred times, but this time has so much more meaning than in the past. He actually hums the lyrics and sings a few of them as he plays through the chords. I’ve only heard him sing once, many years ago, at his mom’s grave. Sitting here now, the tears fall freely, running down my cheeks, and dripping from my jaw to my lap, listening to the lyrics his mother had hoped would define him.

  I’ve never been able to hear the song Simple Man without being overcome with emotion. But today, instead of my eyes being consumed by sadness, they fill with hope. I have my Trevin back. And it dawns on me what his next step needs to be.

  I patiently wait for him to finish the song—to reconnect with his soul and that special place with his mom—before I ask, “Why didn’t you ever sing in the band?”

  He looks up, keeping the guitar in place with his hand pressing it against his chest. “That wasn’t my role. Brad was our singer.”

  “But, Trev, you’re good. Why don’t you try vocals?”

  “You’re the only person who’s ever heard me sing. No one’s ever asked. They needed a guitarist, I filled the role, and on we went.”

  “Well, what’s stopping you now?”

  “Me? Sing?”

  “Yeah. Why don’t you start your own band? You could be the lead singer and guitarist. You already have the following. I’m sure the record label would give you a shot.”

  He sighs and I see the desire in his eyes. “I do miss it…” he admits as he strums the guitar again, playing a few slower chords from one of his old songs.

  “Come on, I know you could do this. And you’d be amazing at it. You belong on stage, Trev.”

  I sit back and watch as his lips slowly tilt up to a smile that he’s trying to hide. He’s considering it, I just need to encourage him, but for now, I’ve sparked the flame. I stay silent, waiting for him to work through his thoughts, and I can feel the tiny bit of fire growing into a blazing inferno. He’s taking the idea and fueling it with passion.

  “You know,” he says without looking up, continuing to slowly pick away at his guitar. “While we were on tour, I started writing some lyrics. I was going to pitch them to the guys but never got the chance.”

  “Are you serious?” I jump on him, excited.

  He laughs as he shields his guitar from my frontal attack.

  “Can I hear them?” I’m worse than a kid on Christmas morning.

  He focuses on the strings, strumming a few more chords, before answering, “Fuck it, why not.” Getting up, he walks to his room and heads back with a notebook in his hand. Setting it down on the coffee table, he goes over a song and a few chords before finally performing it.

  I look down at his notepad to see he’s written Those Nights in large letters across the top. I listen to the words as I read along. Finding all of it very familiar—he sings about our childhood, the nights we stayed up talking, listening to music because he didn’t want to go home to his parents fighting.

  I’m instantly in love with the calmer vibe this song has over the harder stuff Stone Cold always played. It’s still rock but more new age, more true to who Trevin is. Every section is another piece of our past, an admission of his wish to have had those times last. When he finishes, he hesitates to look in my direction, opting to sit silently. He continues going over chords, pretending to be working on the song. But I know him better. He’s a nervous wreck as he waits for my reaction, so I let him sweat it for a few seconds.

  When I finally wrap my arms around him and his guitar, I announce, “I love it.”

  He glances at me without moving his head; instead, he peeks through his long lashes and gives me his sexy smirk while raising his eyebrows slightly. “Really?”

  I hit him. “Yes, really! I’m telling you, Trevin. This is it. You need to do this, and that song is just the beginning.”

  “But what about the other guys? I’m not sure if I should call them or if they’ll even get back together.”

  “No, Trev, I’m sorry to say but that ship has sailed. This song, this is you. Not them.”

  “But those guys made me. They brought me in, showed me this world.”

  “Yes, they did but they also left you here, alone when shit hit the fan. Those guys aren’t going to make up anytime soon. And it will never be the same without Brad.”

  He looks down, strumming over some chords before sighing. “You’re right. It won’t.”

  “Don’t look at it as leaving them. Look at it as starting anew. Only this band will be you. All you. Trevin, look at me.”

  His head slowly turns to meet my eyes and I grab his hand from the guitar to hold it in mine.

  “It’s about time you did something for you. You deserve this.”

  He smiles and I watch as the corners of his eyes crinkle with the slightest pool of moisture forming before he blinks them away. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Lilies. I hope you know that.”

  “I know, Trevin. I’d be lost without you too so don’t you dare ever pull that shit on me again,” I tease, hitting his shoulder, causing him to reveal a small smile.

  “I promise.” He leans in, kissing my forehead before turning back to his guitar and showing me the next song.

  We sit the rest of the night, going over all the pieces he’s written, and I'm shocked by how much he already has done. There’s a healthy mix of fast songs and ballads, but all of them have a unique sound that fits Trevin more than anything I’ve ever heard him play.

  I see so much of him, of us, in his songs, and I know this was his escape while on tour. His way to stay grounded and true to himself while he was away.

  Nineteen

  Like the North Star she’ll show me the way.

  For me I’ll know she’ll always stay.

  Even when I don’t deserve her love,

  Her life, I’d never make a mess of.

  - Trevin Allen

  Trevin – Age 23

&
nbsp; Yet again, Lily has saved me in more ways than one. After Brad passed, I had no clue what to do with my life or myself. With Chad and Kyle not talking to each other, I was left—as the outsider I always was—to fend for myself and deal with the loss of him and our band alone.

  It never occurred to me to start my own, but Lily seemed to think I could do it. Now, here I sit in a big fancy office, waiting to hear my fate. When I called my old manager, Arnie, he was excited by the thought of doing something new. He got me into the studio immediately, and we started laying down some tracks.

  Yeah, I had the name Stone Cold behind me, but everyone knew I wasn’t an original member, so I didn’t get a free pass. I had to work my ass off to prove myself—and my lyrics—on my own dime to make this happen.

  It cost me a small fortune to do it the right way, but I couldn’t think of a better way to spend my money. I auditioned a ton of different people, and ended up with a group of guys who form the band I’m calling Escape Velocity. Together, we’ve worked on creating our own sound, each member adding their unique style to the overall blend. The only piece of the equation I wouldn’t budge on was the name—it wasn’t open for discussion.

  Escape Velocity was something personal to me. I wanted a tribute to Lily without being blatantly obvious. My entire life she’s been what kept me grounded. I played around with names, but kept coming back to synonyms for gravity. Then I came across Escape Velocity—the speed an object needs to attain a gravitational pull of another body. For years, it seemed like the music industry has tried to pull me away from Lily, and I know I need to work harder to keep her there—to not escape her velocity.

  I never thought I’d enjoy being the front man, but honestly, I more than like it—I fucking love it. Playing guitar was always my passion, but now I can fully pour my soul into the music, leaving me to feel more complete than ever before.

  The door opens and I turn to see a man in a suit enter the office. He walks to his desk and shakes my hand before sitting down. “Well, Trevin, I must say, we played your demo for some focus groups and the ratings came back off the charts. Higher than anything we’ve done in quite some time. They love the new sound you’ve got going here, and we do too.”

  He slides a piece of paper over to me and I lift it up, pretending I know what I’m looking at, but in reality, I don’t. My manager and the lawyers handle this piece. I’ll let them hash out the details. I’m just excited to be getting the chance.

  “It’s an offer for one album with the option to renew if sales hit the numbers laid out here.”

  I stand to shake the man’s hand. “Thank you, sir. I won’t let you down.” I hold up the paper. “I’ll get this back to you right away.”

  Once I leave his office, I immediately take out my phone to call Lily. She answers on the second ring, greedy for information. “Tell me, tell me, tell me,” she demands without saying hello.

  “They loved it. We got a deal. Escape Velocity is officially a signed band.”

  Her screams fill the receiver, making me laugh as I pull the phone away from my ear to keep from losing my hearing. Her happiness is contagious, and I can’t wait to shout to the world—I’m back.

  But, first things first. After years of college and then grad school, Lily finishes her master’s program tomorrow and will be walking in the ceremony. I’m throwing her a party she’ll never forget.

  Her parents and best friend from high school, Morgan, flew in today to help me set everything up. I’ve invited Jordan and her sorority sisters along with all the friends I’ve ever heard her talk about. Even though we’ve lived together all these years, she rarely brings anyone to the house. She doesn’t want to invade my privacy by allowing people to know where I live, but I’ve always wondered if it’s more because of how different I am than the people she associates with.

  They’re all college-going, preppy, Abercrombie, flip-flop wearing douches, but that doesn’t mean we all can’t hang out. Yes, anytime she’s tried to go on a date, I’ve scared them away, but that’s because none of those guys were good enough for her. A few of them lasted past the first couple of dates, but that was only because I was on tour. Once I got home, I ensured things ended pretty quickly for them. They complained to her that I was possessive, but so what, maybe I am. Really, I just want what’s best for her.

  When I pull into my long driveway, I see the tent set up between the house and the ocean. I’m not sure how many people would actually show, but I wanted to make sure we had enough room. Thank God her mom is helping with the catering, because I truly know nothing about setting up this kind of event. My only responsibility at the parties I’ve thrown was to make sure there were enough alcohol and drugs to last the night. But not this party—this is all about class and sophistication. Nothing is too much for my Lily, and I want this party to show exactly that.

  After all the preparations for tomorrow are done and we all have dinner, her parents head off to their hotel I set them up in, but Morgan stays behind to spend the night with Lily. We sit down in the living room, me in my normal spot on the floor, and Lily right behind me on the couch. Her hand drapes over my shoulder. Instinctively, I reach up to lace my fingers with hers—it’s second nature; we do it every time we’re hanging out like this.

  Morgan sits across the room on the couch, eyeing us suspiciously before calling us out. “Okay, you two. Give up the goods. What’s really going on here?” Her eyes go back and forth between us.

  Lily slowly moves her hand back to the couch. “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, come on. You guys have been like this for years. And now you’ve lived together for how long? You can’t tell me nothing is going on.”

  I reply honestly, “No, nothing’s going on.”

  “Yeah right. You guys both sat down, instantly connecting, like it was one hundred percent normal to sit like that. You seriously want me to believe that nothing’s ever happened between you two.”

  “Well, yeah, but that was a while ago.” I try to blow it off and make light of the past interaction.

  She sits up straighter, grabbing the chair. “Are you serious?” She looks at Lily. “And you never told me!”

  I squint my eyes, turning to look at Lily for confirmation. “You never told her?”

  Morgan has been her best friend, besides me, for years. I thought girls told each other everything. I couldn’t imagine why she would keep this a secret.

  “How many times have I asked you and you swore up and down that nothing has ever happened?” Morgan’s in utter disbelief.

  That hurt. She actually lied to her best friend about me.

  “Wait, so what happened? How far did you go?” She points her fingers back and forth between Lily and me.

  Lily sighs. “Okay fine, we kissed a few years back.”

  The way she says it cuts even deeper, like it was a small peck—something insignificant. We’ve done way more than kiss, and I don’t understand why she’s lying about it, especially with me sitting right here.

  Morgan jumps up. “You kissed him?” she yells in disbelief. “But it’s a well-known fact he doesn’t kiss anyone.” She stops and points her finger at me. “It’s kind of weird I know that, by the way, but the damn tabloids had a field day with that piece of information a few years back,” she says all cynically to me.

  I’m kind of shocked and not sure what else to say. Obviously, she doesn’t want anyone to know she’s been with me, especially Morgan, but I don’t know why.

  Lily sits up so she’s directly behind me. “Yes…we’ve kissed a few times and...” Lily’s voice starts to trail off.

  “And…wait, holy shit, you had sex with him and you never told me?” The look on Morgan’s face is shock and disbelief.

  I turn to look at Lily, questioning what she’s thinking.

  She covers her face with the blanket next to her. “It was a mistake a long time ago. I just wanted to forget it ever happened, okay?”

  What the fuck?

  She wants to for
get it ever happened. I can’t imagine why. I mean, I know I fucked up when she came to visit, but I cherish the memories of the two times we’ve had together. I can’t believe she’s saying this shit.

  “Mistake or not, I’ll get you to spill the details soon enough,” Morgan proclaims.

  Lily takes the pillow next to her and throws it at her friend’s head. “Can we please change the subject?”

  I turn so Lily and I catch eyes. She stares at me for a brief second before I look away, saddened by what just went down, and even more confused than I’ve ever been.

  With the subject officially changed, we spend the next few hours chatting in the living room. Morgan gets up to go to bed and I look at Lily, whispering to her to stay out with me. Thankfully, she does and says goodnight to Morgan, telling her she’ll be in shortly.

  Once we’re alone, I turn to look at her, getting right to the point. It took all I had in me to avoid having this conversation in front of Morgan, but I need answers. “What was all that about?”

  She refuses to meet my stare. “I don’t know.”

  “Lily…” I place my hand under her chin, watching her eyes naturally gravitate to mine. She’s shocked to hear just her name with no silly attachment. “Why didn’t you tell her about us?”

  She lets out a frustrated sigh. “I never knew what to tell her.”

  “The truth works.”

  “The truth…really, Trevin? What, that you came to my room, we had sex, then you left? She would’ve had questions and I didn’t have answers.”

  “Okay, but why continue to deny it?”

  She sits up, putting her head in her hands and running her fingers through her dark brown hair. “I don’t know. I just didn’t want anyone to know.”

  “Why? Are you ashamed of me?”

  “No, Trev! God, no!”