by Marie Meyer
“You’re doing fine. How’s the wrist?” I kicked my feet down off the desk in the booth and spun the chair around to face him.
Adam twisted his hand around, testing it out. “Feels good.” He nodded. “I can tell you it feels damn good getting back behind my drums. Uhhh,” he sighed, throwing his head back. A moment later he looked back at me and smiled, snapping his towel at my chair. “What are you doing here so late? I figured you’d be hanging with Jill, now that she’s back.”
I glanced at my phone, wondering if she’d texted back. Nothing. I shook my head. “Too much going on here.”
Adam shook his head. “I don’t get you, man. Why do you insist on making her miserable?”
“Excuse me?” I was thrown off by his comment. I’ve always striven to do the exact opposite.
Adam tossed his towel across the room like a basketball. “Who are you shitting? You two look at each other and Cupid throws up. I just don’t get why you’re so worried about screwing things up with her. You’re the golden boy, Griff. Good things just happen for you.”
I wanted to laugh. He really had no idea. “Whatever, dude.”
“If you say so.” He knelt, shoving his sticks into a backpack. Standing up, he swung the strap onto his shoulder. “Well, I’m out, man. See you.”
“Yeah.”
As he left, the door didn’t latch shut, but stayed open just a little. I shrugged it off, too lazy to get up and pull it closed. Reaching for my guitar, sitting beside the mixing board, I picked a few strings and adjusted the tuning pegs.
Enjoying the quiet darkness, I strummed miscellaneous chords, seeing what I could come up with. I hummed a melody over the chords, lyrics igniting like a wildfire in my head.
Lost and lonely in a crowded room
Can’t shake the dread I know will loom
When I’m surrounded by a million faces
But not yours ’cause time erases.
“Pretty haunting tune.”
Startled, I slid my hand down the strings, the discordant sound killing my mojo. “Oh, hey, Nee.” I leaned my guitar against the desk and turned to face her. “I thought I was the only one here.”
“Nope. Since I’m finished with Mine Shaft, Leo’s looking into getting me a solo gig. I was working on some vocals.”
“Is there anything you can’t do?”
“Ride a bicycle.”
I stared at her. If there was one thing I’d learned about Nee in the last four months, it was that she was brutally honest. “You can’t ride a bike?”
“Nope. I fall off every time.” She propped herself against the doorframe and folded her arms across her chest.
I laughed. “Sorry, I’ve just never heard of a grown person not being able to ride a bike. I mean, it’s like a rite of passage. Every kid picks it up eventually.”
She shook her head. “Laugh it up, pretty boy.” She came into the room and sat beside me, smiling.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t laugh.”
Smacking my leg with the back of her hand, she said. “It’s fine. I’m over it. Most people have parents to teach them shit like that. Let’s just say my parents wouldn’t win any ‘Parent of the Year’ awards.”
That sobered me. “Sorry, Nee.”
She waved off my apology and rolled her eyes. “I’m cool. Who needs to know how to ride a lame-ass bike when you’ve got a car?”
“You got a point.”
“Why are you here so late?” She sat back and curled herself into the chair. Her pint-size frame reminded me of Jillian; they were both so tiny.
“Just messing around.” I tapped my toe against my guitar. “I like it here when everyone’s gone. It’s quiet. I can hear myself think.” I looked back up at her. “Lately, that’s been impossible.”
She nodded. “I hate to tell you, but it’s about to get more fucked up, dude. Especially if you keep writing songs like the one you were just singing. That one sounded personal.”
“Yeah,” I mumbled. “Most everything I write is personal. Songwriting is my therapy. I’m not good at talking about feelings, so I put them to music instead.”
Nee smiled and her eyes softened. “Was that song for Erin?” Her voice did that weird, girly, pitchy thing.
I wrinkled my nose and shook my head. “Erin and I broke up.”
“Oh, no. What happened?” Her playful demeanor disappeared.
“Nothing really. We just didn’t click.” I propped my boot up on the desk next to the mixing board and rested my other foot on top. It felt good to stretch out.
“So tell me who the song’s about, then.” She held my eyes, daring me to spill my guts.
Strangely enough, I kind of wanted to tell her everything. If I couldn’t tell Jillian how I really felt, I wanted someone to know…someone to hear how much I was dying inside. “It’s about my best friend…Jillian.”
She sat forward. “You have a best friend that doesn’t have a dick, and you’ve never introduced me? And here I’ve had to deal with your dickhead friends for the last few months.”
I gave her a sidelong glance. “You love those guys, and you know it.”
She softened. “Yeah, I do. I just like fucking with you. So, tell me more about this Jillian.”
“How long you got?” I reclined my head on the back of the chair, staring up at the ceiling. “That could take all night.”
She shrugged. “Keshawn’s at a fight. He won’t be home until late. Lay it on me, big guy.”
A dry laugh punched its way out of my chest. “Jillian’s my best friend. I’ve known her forever. She’s been through a lot of shit over the years, and I’ve been right there by her side. She always had my back, too. Whenever I doubted my music, she never let me give up. She’s my biggest cheerleader.”
“And why haven’t I met this chick?” Erin kicked my chair.
“She’s off living her dream.”
“Which is?” Erin asked.
“Design school. She’s always wanted to be a fashion designer.” Pride swelled inside me.
“Cool,” Nee said. “But why the melancholy song, then?”
I swayed the chair back and forth. “You don’t miss anything, do you?”
She shook her head and smiled.
“A few weeks before Jillian left for school—which by the way is in Rhode fucking Island, eleven hundred fucking miles away—”
“You sound pleased about that.” Nee’s head bobbed up and down.
“Oh, yeah. It’s great.” I matched her level of sarcasm with my own.
Nee leaned forward. “So what happened before she left?”
Racking a hand through my hair, I continued, “She kissed me.”
“What?” Her mouthed formed an O shape. “I thought you two were just friends?”
“We were…we are,” I corrected. “But for some reason, Jillian pushed the issue that night.” I let out a breath, remembering exactly how her smooth, hot lips had felt pressed to mine.
“Did you kiss her back?”
I felt a pinch inside my chest, right where her name was etched into my skin. I rubbed it. “No. I pushed her away,” I said somberly. “But I wanted to. God, I wanted to. The second her lips touched mine, it took every ounce of willpower I possessed not to take her home and show her exactly how much I loved her. I love that girl so much it hurts.” My chest clenched.
Nee stood up and the office chair went sliding across the small room. “Are you an idiot? Why the hell did you push her away?” She smacked the backside of my head. For such a tiny person, she hit hard.
“Ow.” I rubbed my head, forgetting about the pinch in my chest. “What was that for?”
“Asshat, pay attention,” she said, talking with her hands. “When the girl you’re in love with kisses you, DON’T PUSH HER AWAY!” she yelled. “Why?” She threw her hands up, waiting for my answer.
“I had to. I know Jillian. If I had told her then that I loved her, she wouldn’t have gone away to school. She would have given up on her dream—s
omething she’d talked about for years—and for what, me? I couldn’t let her throw everything she’d worked for away. So I lied. I pushed her away and told her I only wanted to be her friend. And there you have it”—I waved my hand—“the catalyst for my melancholy music.”
“Ugh, men are so stupid,” Nee grumbled, walking over to retrieve her chair. She pulled it behind her and parked right in front of mine before plopping down. “Listen, I’m going to give it to you straight, man. Jillian put herself out there. That took balls. Now, I’m going out on a limb here, but I’d bet my house in Vegas—and you know how much I love my new house in Vegas”—she pointed her finger in my face and cocked an eyebrow—“Jillian fucking loves you as much as you love her. What you’re doing isn’t fair. You didn’t even give her the chance to make the decision between you and school. What if she had chosen both? What? You too much of a coward to make a long-distance relationship work? Give me a break.” She took a deep breath and sighed.
I was afraid to say anything; Nee was scary when she was pissed.
Still talking animatedly with her hands, she continued. “You may know her well, but I guarantee you don’t know everything. There are secrets women keep that are only known to God. And now”—she moved her hand, gesturing toward me—“you’re miserable, and I bet she is, too. It’s time to grow a pair, Griffin, and tell your woman you were fucking wrong.”
“What if it’s too late?” I whispered.
She pursed her lips. “Then you’ll know, and you can move on. But you’ll never know if you don’t tell her how you really feel. Give her a choice. Relationships, friendships, for any of them to work, everyone needs a voice…not one person calling the shots.”
I was speechless at the moment, my mind soaking up all of Nee’s wisdom.
After a minute or two, I asked, “What do I do? How do I fix this?”
Nee smiled like she’d just solved all the world’s problems. “What you do best…sing to her.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Merry Christmas, Bean! I texted, stretched out in bed, thankful to have the day off. I had big plans for the day: doing whatever the hell Jillian wanted to do. I missed her so goddamned much, and after taking Nee’s beatdown that she called advice, I had things in the works for the New Year’s Eve concert…something special for Jillian…so she’d finally know how I felt. But right now I just wanted to see her.
Merry Christmas, Griff! Please say I get to see you tonight?
I smiled when her reply came through, then typed back, You bet your ass, it’s Christmas.
Remind me to thank baby Jesus for giving you a reason to hang with me!
That hurt. And it should. I’d been deliberately avoiding her, trying to figure out what my next move would be. Damn, that’s harsh. I’ll see you later!
I sprang out of bed, ready to hit the shower before I went to get her. Outside my bedroom door, I rummaged around the hall closet for a clean towel. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d done laundry. “Yo, Thor.” I banged my fist on his door. “Dude.”
He tore his door open and stuck his head out. “What the fuck, man?”
“Merry Christmas to you, too,” I snapped. “Are there any clean towels anywhere?”
“How the hell should I know?” He shrugged and glanced over his shoulder. “Can’t talk,” he said, looking back. “Company.”
“Sorry, man. Go.” I waved him back into his room.
Thor didn’t stick around to hear my dismissal, and I didn’t blame him. Chuckling under my breath, I went downstairs in search of clean towels.
I opened the washer. Empty. Next I moved to the dryer and pulled the handle. The stench of wet, mildewed towels assaulted my nostrils. “Fuck me,” I growled. I couldn’t remember if I’d thrown them in the dryer without starting it, or if it had been Thor. Regardless, they smelled like death.
I held my breath and began pulling out the cold, smelly towels, tossing them back into the empty washer. I threw in a couple of those pod things and started it up.
With more time on my hands than I wanted, I grabbed a slice of cold pizza and a glass of milk and headed back up to my room.
I opened my door and heard my phone buzzing. Taking two large steps, I glanced at the name on the screen and saw it was my mother. Ever since I’d told her I was quitting school, she’d pussyfooted around the issue, refusing to acknowledge that I was following my dreams just like Jillian. If she was happier with her head in the sand, then so be it. At least my announcement had gotten her off my back.
Setting the glass down on my nightstand, I answered the call. “Hey, Ma, merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas. Did I wake you?”
I took a bite of pizza, speaking through a mouthful. “Uh-uh. Just got up.”
“Oh, good. We’re eating around five. You’re coming over, right?” She sounded leery, unsure if I was still pissed or not.
“Yeah. I’m bringing Jillibean, too.”
“Great. I was going to tell you to bring her. See you both then. Love you.”
“Love you, too, Ma.”
She disconnected the call. I folded the rest of my pizza in half and stuffed it into my mouth before dropping onto my bed. I snatched a notebook and pencil from my bedside table. With the notebook in my lap, I took a hefty drink, finishing the tall glass of milk in one gulp. I slammed the glass back onto the table.
I focused my attention on the song I’d been working on the night Nee kicked my ass about Jillian. I leaned against the headboard and closed my eyes, calling on Jillian to be my muse. Her image rested behind my eyelids.
My eyes fixed on hers. She stared back, a mischievous smile on her lips, daring me to make a move. Her nearly black eyes held a mysterious quality—a gravitational pull that refused to free me.
If it were up to me, I’d gladly get lost in those eyes and never return, as long as I could look at her, touch her, and hold her in my arms forever.
God, I want her.
I wanted to run my hands over every inch of her tiny, curvy frame. My mouth trailed behind, tasting her…drinking her in. My lips savored the warmth of her skin, memorizing each hill and valley of her body.
I wanted more.
The desire to fold my body around hers, to bury myself deep inside her, was almost too much.
With the image of Jillian and me locked together, my hand skimmed the waistband of my jogging pants before plunging inside. The vivid picture of Jillian and me lost in each other was enough to leave me panting and gritting my teeth together. It didn’t take long. My legs went weak, and the image I’d conjured blurred as I pressed my eyes closed tighter, finding my release.
* * *
By the time I’d finished the small load of laundry, showered, and headed over to Jillian’s sister’s house, it was nearing four o’clock.
Pulling into the driveway, I revved the engine a few extra times for Jennifer’s sake and parked my bike in the driveway for all the neighbors to see. I hopped off and went up the sidewalk, resisting the urge to tromp through Jennifer’s still ridiculously green lawn. It was fucking December, how in the hell did she keep her grass so green?
I rang the doorbell and heard a flurry of activity inside before the door opened.
“Giff-in!” yelled Mitchell, one of Jillian’s twin nephews.
I crouched down, putting myself at eye level with him. I palmed his head, giving his white-blond curls a good muss. “Mitchell, my man, how are you?” I brought my hand down in a fist and he bumped it back.
Coming up behind Mitchell, his brother Michael sailed down the hall. “Griff!”
Before I could stand up, the two boys launched themselves onto me, practically knocking me over.
“Boys, boys, boys.” Matthew Barrett, their dad, followed after them. “Come on.” He pulled Michael off me. “Let Griffin in the door, will you?”
I stood up, scooping Mitchell into my arms. “It’s all right, I missed them, too.” These boys were the one part of Jennifer I did like. I could
never figure out how she’d had such amazing kids. They definitely took after their dad. Matthew Barrett was a great guy. What he saw in Jennifer I didn’t know, and I didn’t really care to find out.
“Where have you been?” Mitchell asked.
I turned around and shut the door. “Well, I’ve been working a lot.” I bounced him a couple of times and he giggled.
“My turn!” Michael shouted, jumping at my feet.
I bent down and lifted him into my other arm. Even with both of them in my arms, they weighed nothing.
Over the twins’ giggles, Matthew asked, “How’s it going, man?” He patted my shoulder, directing me into the living room.
“Good, the album’s in postproduction. Comes out January seventh.” I brought the twins over to the couch and made a show of dropping them onto the cushions, WWE style. They rolled over each other, belly laughs ripping free from deep inside them. I couldn’t help but laugh, too.
“Great. I’ll have to check it out,” Matthew said.
“Yeah, that’d be cool. Is Jillian around?” I looked toward the stairs leading to her room.
“Oh, yeah. Upstairs.” He tilted his head in that direction. “Go on up. I’ll keep the wrecking crew down here.” He winked at me and then looked at the boys wrestling together on the couch.
I shook my head. It astounded me that such a prim and proper woman as Jennifer had given birth to those rough-and-tumble boys. “Thanks, man.”
I left the guys alone in the living room and made my way up the stairs. Strangely, I was both nervous and excited. It was time to quit playing games. I wanted Jillian to know that things were going to be different now. At least I hoped.
I knocked on her door and waited. No answer. I knocked again. There was still no answer. Not wanting to startle her, I turned the knob and slowly opened the door.
Lying on her stomach, her feet crossed in the air, she looked so peaceful, happily sketching, not a care in the world. She was breathtaking.
I sneaked into her room, quietly shutting the door behind me. As I crept toward the bed, I saw earbuds pressed into her ears and heard the faint sound of a very familiar song blasting from her iPhone.