“Yeah,” I say with a groan. “I think I’m too sick to go on stage, though.”
She gives the stall door a shake. “Open up. Now.”
I kneel up and unlatch the door then sit back down. She walks in with a glass half full of wine, and I notice her eyes are a little glazed. She takes one look at me then shuts the stall.
“You have to do this.” She tears some tissue from off the roll and hands it to me.
“I know. I know. Or Dad will hate me.” I dab the sides of my mouth and under my eyes then toss the tissue into the toilet.
“No, because you’ll regret it if you don’t.” She pats the top of my head. “Trust me, your dad will forgive you if you bail. Will he be upset? Probably for a while, but he loves you too much to stay mad at you. But trust me when I say that regret is much harder to get over.”
“You’re speaking from personal experience, aren’t you?” I stare up at her, the woman who shares the same eyes as me and is probably one of the coolest people I know. I look up to her for living her dream of becoming an artist.
She nods. “I am. There’s a lot of stuff I have and haven’t done in the past that I wish I could do differently.”
I heave a weighted sigh. “Fine, I’ll do it, but only because your pep talk is scaring me.” I get to my feet, and then we exit the stall. I stop by the sink to wash my hands while my mom sets her wineglass down on the counter to fix her lipstick. While she’s not paying attention, I pick it up and take a few swallows.
“Lyric Scott,” she scolds, but I can tell she’s working hard to be angry. “Don’t ever do that again.”
“Okay.” I hand the glass back to her as the alcohol swims through my veins. I feel slightly mellower, but not a whole lot. I still manage to exit the bathroom and walk backstage where Sage, Nolan, and Ayden are waiting.
“You going to be okay?” Ayden asks, brushing my matted hair from my forehead.
I nod, but don’t say anything as vomit burns at the back of my throat again. “No regrets. No regrets. No regrets,” I chant under my breath.
“What are you saying?” Sage asks, semi-distracted by the stage.
“Nothing.” I turn my back to him and keep chanting until we’re called out.
“This is it,” I whisper to myself. Then I raise my chin, square my shoulders, and march out onto the stage.
The lights are blinding, and the crowd is eagerly cheering, even though they have no clue who we are. I remember all the times I’ve cheered bands on and wonder if this is how any of those singers felt, as if they’d swallowed a thousand butterflies on crack.
Ayden and Nolan plug their guitars in and do a quick tuning and sound check. Sage does a few warm up beats while I stand in front of the microphone and adjust the height of the stand an unnecessary amount of times.
Then the strum of a guitar ripples through the amp and floats over the crowd. The entire room silences and people stare at me, waiting to be dazzled by my talent.
I’m supposed to say something. My dad told me what it was, but I can’t remember.
“Um . . . we’re Alyric Bliss,” I murmur into the microphone, and my dad’s words gradually come back to me. “And thanks for coming out. This one’s called ‘Raveling You.’ ”
Something as easy as a few sentence makes my knees threaten to buckle. I grasp the stand with my sweaty palms as Sage taps his drums. Then the three of them are playing, creating a flawless tune that swirls together and kisses the air. I just hope I don’t fuck it up when I open my mouth.
The intro is pretty long, so I have to wait a seemingly endless amount of time before I sing, but the moment finally arrives.
I take a deep breath and part my lips.
“I never knew it could be like this, never thought such desire was possible, kissing the air from his lungs.” My lips quirk at my slight word variation. “And the heavens rain stars down on us, pieces of shimmering gold around us, pouring warmth all over us. Kiss me until I can no longer breathe. Raveling me up with you until I can hardly think. God, please fucking kiss me before I crumble to pieces.”
I move back as Ayden’s guitar takes over. I suck in a few breaths, feeling less nervous. My voice is balanced, surprisingly smooth. Although, the next part will test it. The words move fast, and I have to push my voice to a near scream. In practice, I rocked it, but I’m worried now. My throat feels like sand paper after puking.
I step up to the mic again, grip the stand, and run my fingers through my hair as some guy whistles at me from the crowd. “You make me weak. You make me strong. You make me ache. You make me feel so wrong. You make me burn for just a taste. You make me, make me, so fucking insane!” My voice carries flawlessly over the room.
And I can’t help myself.
I smile, realizing this dream of mine just might be possible.
I create magic for the next forty-five minutes, and by the time we’re finished, I feel like I’m glowing.
“Thank you!” I shout into the microphone then bounce off stage with the biggest smile plastered on my face.
My skin is damp, I reek of sweat, and I’m the happiest I’ve been in a long time. I hug Sage and Nolan after we make it backstage, and then I throw my arms around Ayden and hug the crap out of him.
“That was so much fun,” I say, then throw my head back when he lifts me up off the ground and spins me around and around.
“You were amazing,” he whispers in my ear, sneaking a bite of my earlobe.
“So were you.” I kiss his cheek, and then he plants my feet back down on the floor.
“Who wants to celebrate?” Sage’s pumps a fist into the air, grasping a bottle of champagne.
“Where’d you get that?” I ask. “Did you steal it from one of the other bands or sneak it out from the bar?”
“Does it really matter?” He moves to pop the cork, but to no avail, showing his lack of experience with champagne bottles.
“Dammit, let me go find an opener.” He strolls off, putting swagger in his step as he passes by a few older women batting their eyelashes and grinning at him.
“Oh, the life of a rock star.” Grinning, I shake my head. “He’s going to be a handful. Isn’t he?”
“Probably,” Ayden agrees with amusement. “Every band has one, though.”
“So what do we do now?” My mind promptly conjures up very creative and vivid images.
“We could exchange our belated Christmas presents,” he suggests. “It might be fun.”
“I thought we were going to do that later? When we are happy.”
“You look pretty happy right now.”
“But what about you?”
“I’m happy just seeing you happy.” When I hesitate, his brow cocks. “Do you really want to wait even longer? Or are you just procrastinating because you don’t have mine?”
“I actually do.” Which is the truth. But the present isn’t bought so I’m uncertain how much Ayden will like it. Still, it did come from the heart. “Alright, let’s do this. Hand it over.”
“I don’t have it with me.” He nods his head at the bar. “But we can go get our moms and head home and I’ll give it to you. Lila’s looking pretty tipsy anyway.”
I stick out my elbow and he links arms with me. “Sounds like a deal.”
An hour later, Ayden and I are in my bedroom on my bed with the door open. Music is floating from my stereo and a soft trail of light flows from my lamp. My mom and Aunt Lila are downstairs with Kale, Everson, and Fiona, drunkenly chatting so loud we can hear them all the way upstairs.
“They’re trashed,” Ayden remarks as he tosses my present in the air like a baseball. It’s small, about the size of mine, with shiny silver and purple wrapping paper.
“Not as bad as they were that one New Year’s.” My present for Ayden is secured in the palm of my hand. I’m nervous to give it to him. I don’t know why. Maybe because the gift kind of means something? “Remember how giggly they were. The sounded like two silly teenage girls.”
; “You’re a teenage girl,” Ayden reminds me with a clever grin.
I smack my forehead with the heel of my hand. “Duh. Thanks for reminding me. I almost forgot.”
He shakes his head, half grinning. Then he shoves his hand in my direction, presenting his gift. “You open yours first.”
I snatch the present from him, tear open the paper, and lift the lid from the box. Inside are two leather bands with the words Endlessly Yours engraved on them.
“You mentioned once that your parents used to have leather bands that said forever on them and how they used to be best friends like us,” he explains as I stare inside the box. “I remember how happy you looked when you told me about it and how you said that one day you were going to be with a guy that would get you something like that. I didn’t want to make them exactly the same, though, so I went with endlessly yours.”
I’m quiet for a lengthy amount of time, mainly because I’m way too emotionally overwhelmed to speak.
“You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to,” he says self-consciously. “Or you can keep them both and give the other to someone else one day.”
I finally find my voice. “You said ‘how they used to be best friends like us.’”
“Huh?”
“Just barely. You said that we used to be best friends like how my parents used to be friends.”
Pink colors his cheeks. “Well, I didn’t really mean it like that. We’re still best friends now, like your parents are, too. I just meant that we were like them in the sense that we used to be friends but now we’re . . .” He scratches at the back of his neck, glancing at the door like he wants to bolt.
I place my hand on his arm. “We’re more than friends, Ayden.” When I withdraw my hand, he turns his head and looks at me. I take the bracelets out of the box, slide one on my wrist, then slip the other on his. “And I think this is going to prove it even more.” I hand my present to him.
He gingerly rips off the paper then opens the tiny box. “We think so alike it’s frightening.” He removes the two faded leather bracelets. Each one is engraved with Forever.
“Definitely, but I like that we do.”
He puts the band on his wrist, then his fingers circle my arm and he slips the other bracelet on my wrist. His fingertips are right above my pulse and I wonder if he can feel how rapid my heart is racing. “Endlessly yours forever,” he says, staring at the bracelets together.
“The ones I gave you actually belonged to my parents,” I say when he doesn’t release my wrist. “My mom gave them to me the other day when I asked her for present ideas. It kind of makes me wonder if she knows about us, since the bracelets are so symbolic to her and my dad’s relationship.”
“After tonight, I’m pretty sure Ethan might be wondering if something’s up, too.”
“I hope they don’t know yet.” My gaze flicks to the door then a smile curves at my lips as I lean in. “I like being able to be in my room alone with you.” I stop when our lips are an inch away. “Thank you for my present.”
“You’re welcome . . . And thanks—” He eliminates the space between our mouths, cutting himself off.
I grab at his shirt and pull him down as I lie back on my bed. Our tongues entwine as our bodies align. When our chests collide, my heart slams inside my chest and knocks against his unsteady heartbeat. His hands skate across my body, along my curves, the arch of my breast, and my hips, his fingers tremulous as he rocks against me.
I moan and my fingers form a mind of their own, wandering, wandering, wandering to the bottom of his shirt. I want to touch him. Savor the feel of his skin, bask in every part of him like he’s doing with me. My fingers delve under the hem, caress his skin, fleetingly relishing his smooth, solid muscles. But then those muscles tauten along with the rest of his body.
I quickly pull my hands out. “Sorry,” I breathe against his lips.
“It’s okay.” His voice is raspy, his chest forcefully rising and falling. “Can you just touch me on the outside of my shirt?”
“Of course.”
“I’m sorry,” he sputters, battling for oxygen.
I cup his face between my hands. “Don’t be sorry . . . You’re perfect . . . Everything’s perfect.” And I think I might be in love with you.
The thought strikes me like bolt of lightning. Out of nowhere. So startling that I don’t dare utter it aloud. Too afraid. Of how he’ll react. Of how I’ll react.
Instead, I just keep kissing him and falling.
Deeper, deeper, deeper
Into another world.
Where I don’t even know who I am anymore.
But it’s not a bad thing.
Just terrifying and confusing.
My head is so foggy yet clear.
My heart so alive, so vibrantly beating.
My body so needy, desperately seeking.
Him.
It’s all about him.
Endlessly his.
Forever.
THE NEXT COUPLE OF WEEKS fly by rather fast. Life begins to return to normal as no more incidents happen with the strange man who broke into the house. The police are still looking for him, but the more days that go by, the less likely it seems that they’ll find him.
I hardly spend any time alone anymore. Someone is always with me, except for the rare occasion when I’m driving somewhere by myself, like to therapy. The Gregorys had an alarm installed in their home, which shows how worried they are, not just about the break-in, but because I’ve been sleep walking more frequently. I think they worry I’ll wander off in the middle of the night.
On a positive note, the band is doing pretty fantastic. After our exceptional performance at the opening, Mr. Scott is allowing us to play every other Friday night and wants us to put together some songs to hopefully record in the future months.
And Ethan hasn’t mentioned anything about catching Lyric and I mid kiss. I think he does know about the relationship, though, because every time he sees Lyric and I together, a suspicious look crosses his face.
I have therapy once a week after school, both my regular sessions and my amnesia one. After all the sessions, my mind is as empty as it was to begin with. Dr. Gardingdale thinks it’s because my fear is blocking my memories. I agree with him, but until I can figure out a way to eliminate that fear, there’s not much I can do.
After school, I make the ten-minute drive to the office. We start out with my normal session. Dr. Gardingdale asks me the same questions about how I’ve been doing, and I give him the same answers. I try to stay away from the Lyric subject, not ready to discuss her with him. Yet I somehow accidentally imply that I’m seeing someone.
“I didn’t know you were dating anyone.” Across the desk, Dr. Gardingdale gapes at me, stunned.
I shake my head, ready to deny it, but then hesitate. Maybe it’s time to tell someone about Lyric and me, get the secret off my chest. Make it more real. Besides, it’s not like the doctor can tell anyone.
“Well . . . I might be, but I just haven’t said anything about it.”
“Why not?” His overly bushy brows furrow as he jots something in the legal pad he uses to take notes.
“I don’t know . . . I guess I’m confused and worried.” I fiddle with the leather bands on my wrist. Endlessly yours forever. My heart still races just thinking about that night, my emotions a jumble. That night had meant something. To me. To Lyric. To both of us. I’m really falling for her. But I still feel so guilty, still feel unworthy of her.
“Worried and confused about what?” The doctor interrupts my thoughts.
“About how my parents will react.” I realize I referred to Mr. and Mrs. Gregory as my parents.
That’s a new one . . . I don’t even know what to make of it. What it means about me. That I’m progressing? I shouldn’t be so surprised since I’m progressing with Lyric as well.
I trace the cracks in the wooden armrest of the chair I’m sitting in. “And I’m confused because . . . I don’t know, even thoug
h I love Lyric’s company, I’m still afraid.”
“Of what?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “I think we’ve talked enough that you know what I’m afraid of.”
He drums his pencil on his desk. “I know we’ve talked about a lot of fears, so I’m not positive which one you’re referring to right now.”
Even though I know he’s trying to heal me, I hate when he makes me say things I don’t want to say aloud.
“My fear that I’ve been sexually abused at some point in my life . . . At some point when I was in that house. And I’m afraid that I’ll never fully be able to get over it—that I’ll never be the person Lyric deserves.” My fingers curl around the armrests. “I don’t know why you make me say it when you already know what I’m going to say.”
He scribbles in the notepad the sets the pen down. “Because I believe it’s important for you to verbalize them instead of keeping things locked in like you’ve done in the past.”
I roll my tongue in my mouth, aggravated at myself for being so messed up. “So you think it’s been a good thing for me to go to this amnesia therapy? I mean, it’s gotten me to speak about stuff aloud, even though it hasn’t really done anything to strike up the right memories.”
“You seem really agitated today.”
“I’m agitated every day that I have to come to these amnesia sessions.”
He loosens his tie that has smiley faces on it, conveying happiness that never happens while I’m in these four walls. Our sessions have been about splitting me open and bleeding me dry. Coming here is emotionally exhausting, but as long as Lila and Ethan want me to continue seeing the doctor, I will. They gave me a roof over my head. Got dragged into a police investigation. Got dragged into a mess with a group of people who worship evil.
“You shouldn’t push yourself too hard.” He gathers a large blue mug from his desk and takes sip of coffee. “If it’s becoming too much for you to handle then it’s too much for you to handle.”
“The police aren’t really giving me a choice.” I anxiously jiggle my leg up and down. “Well, they are, but if I don’t do it, I’m pretty much refusing to help track down my brother’s killers . . . and the people who tried to ruin my life. They’ve been really pushy, too, calling Lila all the time and asking for reports.”
Unraveling You Series: The Complete Set Page 27