by C. R. Jane
He shifts, moving his face from my neck as his eyes slowly blink open. I stare at them mesmerized. I once read that some scientists believe that you can fall in love with someone just by looking into their eyes long enough. I scoffed at it then...but now I kind of get it. I blame his beautiful sky-blue eyes for the way that I’m feeling right now. They are endless pools of possibility and I can see a chance of happiness in their depths.
“Hi, pretty girl,” he says in a low, gruff voice. He brushes a kiss across my lips. It feels more comforting than sexual and I wonder what it would feel like to wake up to such a kiss for the rest of my life. “Are you excited for today?” he asks in a way that I know is asking more if I’m up for the concert than anything else.
“Yes,” I tell him with a smile. “I think it’s going to be a perfect day.”
“I think so too,” he says, his eyes running all over my face in a way that makes me wonder what he’s looking for.
We lay there for a few minutes more, both in no hurry to unwrap ourselves from each other. When we do get up, we make breakfast together in the kitchen and I help him take care of his dog, a giant, loveable beast of a retriever that is as obsessed with Jesse as I’m beginning to be.
Afterwards he leads me to his little sister’s room, and we raid her closet. I feel a little weird borrowing from a girl I haven’t even met, but Jesse assures me that she has so many clothes that she won’t miss anything. The size of her closet doesn’t dispute that. I find a pair of skinny jeans that fits me better than anything I own, a vintage looking Guns N’ Roses tank, and a black zip-up jacket that couldn’t be better suited for a concert. At least they look like something people probably wear to regular concerts where they aren’t trying to get into the singers’ pants like everyone was yesterday. After slipping on my boots that I was luckily wearing the day before, I’m ready to go.
On the way to the music festival Jesse explains that this is a yearly event that seems to be getting bigger and bigger. As he talks about what bands are going to be there, I can see how excited he is to get to perform alongside them. We get to the park where it’s being held, and I see hundreds of people walking towards a large stage that is set up in the distance. They are all carrying blankets and coolers, which has me panicking for a second thinking that we didn’t bring either until Jesse grabs a few blankets from the backseat and hands them to me before pulling out a large cooler from the bed of the truck. I laugh a bit giddily at how prepared he is for this. I find myself hoping that we can stay all day until the last band finishes their set. I don’t think I could ever get tired of being around him.
He grabs the blankets and throws them on the cooler which has wheels that allow him to easily pull it behind us. He takes my hand in his free hand, entwining our fingers. He walks more closely beside me and we both slow our steps, his fingers squeezing mine. My hand is warmed by his, by knowing that he wanted connection just as much as I did. I never thought I would be a hand holder, but I sure did love holding hands with all of them.
“You know I actually come by myself to this every year,” he says as we walk. “I’ve never told the guys that, and hell maybe they do it too for all I know. But I’ve never seen them here.”
“Why did you ask me to come if you like to come alone?” I ask curiously.
“I couldn’t get it out of my head,” he says. “I just knew that you would make it even better.” He grins sheepishly. “Jensen might have also told me how much you like music so I thought I would win some brownie points for taking you to listen to music on our first date.”
I laugh hard at his admission. But it abruptly stops when I wonder what else the guys have shared. I’ll just have to expect it going forward that what I tell one of them will probably be told to the rest. Tanner had probably already mentioned what I had told him about my family the other night and that’s why Jesse didn’t press me to talk about it. Oh well, I wasn’t going to worry about it.
Looking around, I was shocked at how many people were here. Bellmont wasn’t a very large town, but there were five other neighboring towns that worked together to help bring this festival here. Jesse paid a $20 fee for each of us as we walk in, and I panicked a bit that he just spent that much money on me. The cost didn’t seem to faze him so I decided not to say anything so I didn’t make anything awkward. After paying the fee, we walked towards the stage. I could hear the sound check up ahead.
When we reached the field in front of the stage, Jesse leads me to the left of the stage, where he explains he thinks there are the best acoustics in relations to the trees. I help him spread out the larger blanket and plop down, both of us turning on our sides to face one another. The first band was still setting up, so we had time to talk. Once the music started, I was sure it would be too loud to hear each other without yelling.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” he says sweetly, scooting closer to me. “I hope you like the music. There are usually a lot of covers but some of the original stuff usually blows me away too.”
“I’m sure I will,” I tell him, unable to hold in the grin on my face. He pushes the hair away from my shoulder. My jacket slips over my shoulder with the movement and Jesse wastes no time running his fingers over the bare skin.
“I can’t not touch you. I’m not going to be sorry for it either.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Did you see me complaining?” I ask, reaching out to grab a handful from the center of his shirt. I pull him closer. “I don’t like the space between us,” I admit.
I prop myself up on one arm and look down at him. His head is cushioned on his bent arm, his biceps flexed from the positioning. His golden hair is deliciously mussed up and his lips are in a contented smile. That smile is one of my favorites, knowing that I helped put it there. I felt bold in that moment. I could see how happy he was, and it gave me courage to make a move.
I lean down, allowing my hair to become a curtain around us, nuzzling my nose against his. I could tell that he was holding back, allowing me to take control of this situation. I pepper his scruff covered chin with kisses, loving the bite against my lips. I kiss his lips quickly once, and then twice, and when I try to pull away the third time, his hands come up and hold my head in place, kissing me at his leisure. He’s careful not to move too fast as if he doesn’t want to scare me.
Not sure about the PDA that was allowed at the park, I pull away and off of him and lay flat on my back. I blow out an exaggerated breath.
“Does it always feel like this?” I ask without thinking.
“No. I can say that it definitely does not always feel like this. In fact, I’d go as far as to say it never feels like this, or at least it never has for me before.”
I turn my eyes to his. His eyes are running over my face. It makes me feel self-conscious.
“Why do you look at me like that?”
His eyes meet mine. “I’m memorizing your face.” He says it nonchalantly, as if that was the most obvious answer. Before I could ask why, the music starts, drowning out my voice. We both turn our heads to the stage to listen. At some point, Jesse curls up behind me, allowing me to use his arm as a pillow, his other hand running down my waist, over the curve of my hip. Some of the songs, he uses my hip as a guitar, plucking his fingers against the material in time to the band. I was sure it was innocent, but the repetitive motion was driving me crazy. As a result, we make out for all of the songs, pausing to catch our breaths, laugh, or have a sip of soda. Being around Jesse was like being alive. I was more aware of my heart beating, I was challenged to evaluate myself, and I laughed so often my cheeks hurt. When the third band played and Jesse and I had each finished our second sodas, the sky had grown dark. The only lighting was around the stage and on the road, leaving those of us on the grass in complete darkness.
When the band played a song that was a bit sappy but still upbeat, Jesse hopped up to his feet and reached a hand down to me.
“What are you doing?” I asked, suspicious.
“I, Jesse Carroway, a
m asking you, Ariana Kent, to dance with me on the most perfect date in the history of the world,” he says with a dramatic bow. He seems almost euphoric, and while I want to protest, I find myself placing my hand in his and standing up. He leads me towards the tree line, completely out of sight from the other concert-goers. It is absolutely black except for the stage, so I take comfort in knowing that no one else can see us. We could live in this square of trampled grass off to the side of the actual concert, and only acknowledge each other. Jesse dances with me in time to the beat of a cover of Rihanna’s “We Found Love” in the grass, spinning me away from him and pulling me back with drama. Our dancing doesn’t go with the beat of the song at all but it’s happy and perfect and fits the mood of our night together.
The song blends into the next one. “Imagine Dragons,” I whisper, my lips against his hair. “I love this band.” I feel his lips touch the shell of my ear as he sings along with the lyrics to “Bad Liar.” He serenades me in the dark, his hips pressed against mine, the hand he holds to my back tenderly tracing my spine. Every few chords, he presses his lips to my earlobe, in a kiss as soft as his voice. He doesn’t withhold anything from me, whether it’s his words or even his touch. He gives me everything. And for the first time in my life, I fall in love. I fall in love with his hand on my waist, under the stars, while we danced to borrowed words. I fall in love with his breath at my ear, his cheek pressed against mine, with his body pressed tightly to mine. I fall in love again when we lay on the ground, my head on his chest and his hand in my hair. His heart beating in my ear was the loudest sound, my favorite sound. Not for the first time, I knew I was in trouble.
9
Now
That was unexpected. I can still feel Tanner’s lips against mine. They feel bruised, tender, swollen from his affection. I’d never been kissed like that before. There had never been that level of passion between us before they left. Why did he just kiss me? Pulling myself from the wall, my legs shaking even more than before, I stupidly walk back down the hallway, unable to stay away from him after that even if he was done with me. I once again pause at the entrance of the green room and stare at Tanner who is now talking to a gorgeous redhead as if he hadn’t just been in a dark room with me eating me alive.
I watch Tanner flirt with the trashy redhead from the shadows right outside the room. I feel absurdly jealous and it only grows as she lays a hand on his chest that he doesn’t shrug away. How I’m feeling reminds me of when I had decided to cut myself off from all things Sounds of Us. I had managed to go a year without looking them up, but one night, in a fit of self-destructive misery I had given in to the urge to read every damn thing about them, thinking if I knew all their sordid details, it would help me get over them, help me to move on. It didn’t. I absorbed story upon story and pictures of them gallivanting around the world, always with a flock of trashy girls around them. And even years since they had been mine, I still had felt possessive over them even then.
I want to march in right now and claim what’s mine, but I don’t. I don’t want to chance an encounter with Jesse and Jensen before I’ve calmed down. And what I’m feeling right now is the opposite of calm. Obviously, since I’m using ridiculous words like “mine” in relation to Tanner. Tanner keeps glancing at the doorway and I absurdly hope that he’s looking for me, that he feels the same pull that I do to be near him now that we have reunited.
It turns out that I was keeping watch in the wrong direction if I was really hoping to avoid Jensen and Jesse. A door opens right across from my hiding place and Jesse walks out, shirtless like the rockstar he is, singing softly to himself. It’s too late for me to hide and my eyes catch his from across the hallway. I hold his gaze as regret rolls through my stomach. I think of words spoken as truth—an echo of the soul.
He’s beautiful, and guilt for thinking so works my stomach into a knot. I have no right to him. I slide my gaze to his bare chest. The perfect skin is broken by a smattering of new tattoos and his familiar, still delicious nipple piercings. He’s wearing a pair of black jeans that are much too low to be decent. I shake my head to adjust my thoughts. A few days ago, Jesse was the last person I’d thought I would ever see again. Today, I’m enjoying the fuck out of the picture-perfect sight before me. And that sums it up; one decision changes lives. One act, one moment, alters the course of many. One decision certainly altered the course of my life.
I pull my hands to my temples, rubbing them as he walks to stand in front of me. My phone starts ringing, and it tumbles out of my hand as I drop it. It clatters at our feet as he grabs my shirt and tips my head back, so I have no choice but to look into his glistening eyes. I have never seen pain like this before, but if that word could manifest itself into a picture it would be Jesse in this moment.
“You promised,” he says quietly in a tone heavy with betrayal and anger.
It was a vow I had no right to make. A promise broken. A life lost. I blink against his animosity and accept the accusation. I can’t speak as to what happened. Putting a voice to it will bring that one night to life, and I won’t have him carry the details of that burden. It belongs solely to me.
Despite my fault, I’m the one who starts crying. Indecision crosses his face and then it seems like he’s unable to stop himself as he wraps me in his arms. Being in his arms again feels like coming home. It’s a relief that angers me because it tells me that I’m weak, that I’ll never be able to move on from this fantasy I’ve built up in my head about them. I didn’t want to be held like some baby who needed comfort. I couldn’t stand his pity a moment longer, and I begin to push him away.
And then everything shifts.
His shoulders sag, and his back curves out as his head slides down to my shoulder. He turns his face into my neck and … he clings to me.
“Do you hate me?” I whisper into his hair as I take a deep breath of that sunshine smell that still radiates off of him even now. He pulls away from me, staring at me as if he’s memorizing my face like he used to do all those years before.
“If I end up hating you, it would be easier,” he spits out. “Please. Please make me hate you. Why don’t you just finish the job so I can get on with my life!” he pleads with me.
His eyes blaze against mine, daring me to do my worst, even though my worst has already been done. My hands shake. Jesse grabs my face with both hands. His mouth crashes down on mine as he kisses me fiercely. His tongue pushes between my lips, tangling with my own. He groans and flattens me against the wall. He releases my face and captures my wrists, holding them above my head as his body pummels me with the force of his hunger. I’m on fire. His and Tanner’s touch has awakened every cell in my body I thought was dead. Just as I start to kiss him back, he lets me go and backs away, visibly struggling to control himself.
He drags his finger through his previously perfectly styled blonde hair. “Fuck, you still drive me crazy,” Jesse mutters, breathing heavily.
Until this moment, I didn’t know how much I’d needed him to need me, but it unravels as a heavy ball in my stomach to realize that he still does. That thought confuses me, or maybe it doesn’t. I’ve been dazed for so many years—feeling needed has been the last thing on my radar.
Jesse
What I remember as the angular lines of her face are softened at her cheekbones and jaw. Ariana had been a breathtakingly attractive teenager... but as a woman? As a woman her otherworldly beauty robs me of coherent thought. She has the face of an angel; impossibly long, dark lashes framed unusual caramel eyes under perfectly arched brows. Her delicate nose tilted up pertly above full pillowy lips, and her oval face was graced with high cheekbones. Creamy skin, hair the color of dark mahogany and seductively wavy, I want to dig my fingers in her glorious tresses just so I can tilt her head to gaze upon her face. Every love song that I had written for our band was inspired by her to this day. Her arresting beauty has haunted me since we parted and seeing this grown up version of her will haunt my dreams for the rest of my life if sh
e leaves me again.
She’s wearing my favorite leather skirt and it showcases perfectly how the lean shape of her body has fleshed into soft curves. Her tight shirt accentuates the breadth of her stomach and the swell of her tits. I want so badly to look away, to concentrate on anything but her, yet even if I try, I’m drawn back in. She’s a fucking projectile burning through my atmosphere with enough force to leave me winded. She’s more than sexy. She’s light and dark at the same time, dark hair and eyes the color of eternity. This woman is not just a moment in time, but all of them brought together. The kind you give your soul to and then rest your head at ease. She’s endless, and most certainly has always been my undoing.
The refined elegance of her posture speaks to an upbringing far greater than the dregs of small-time, small-town South Carolina. Ariana may be small, but she’s fierce. The sly tilt of her head and the way she looks down her nose could be intimidating for some. Not to me. Looking at her, it takes everything I have to prevent myself from admitting that I haven’t been able to get on with my life, that I wasn’t over her.
The way that she’s looking at me, I can tell that she’s afraid of the depth of the feelings in my eyes. But I can’t stop myself from what I feel just by seeing her again. However, I’m also desperately aware that she could run away from me at any second and that I need to slow the fuck down if I want her to stay. I take her hand in mine. My huge grip engulfs hers and a warm feeling tickles up my arm just by feeling her skin against mine.
“Have you eaten yet?” I ask, watching as a surprised look crosses her face.
She shakes her head no. I tap the VIP badge she’s wearing around her neck, her face blushes as I graze her perfect breasts. It’s the same glorious color as the blush she used to get when we were younger. It gives me a sense of satisfaction that at least one thing hasn’t changed about her.