Heart Shaped Rock

by Roppe, Laura

  “Shaynee,” he says again.

  I shudder. Dean’s skin is so warm, and the water’s so cold.

  “Dean.”

  He leans into me and kisses my mouth, and my nerve endings sizzle and pop and hiss like live wires. Without meaning to, I leap up and wrap my legs around him, and he responds by wrapping his arms around me and pressing his body flush against mine. For a frenzied moment, pleasure and elation and relief all mix together inside me like nothing I’ve ever felt before. My body can’t help but squirm and twitch and flop and smash against Dean’s torso like a fish out of water in his arms. My heart’s crashing and thumping inside my chest with such velocity, it’s almost painful. My skin’s zinging and zapping me with jolts of electricity; my head’s crashing and whirling.

  And all of it’s delicious.

  The word euphoria dances across my mind. Then rapture. Followed by ecstasy. Yes, ecstasy. That’s definitely the right word.

  I want to stay in this moment forever.

  But I can’t.

  I physically can’t.

  I can’t breathe.

  I’m dizzy.

  I’m going to faint.

  I’m going to lose my mind.

  This feeling inside of me is too intense. Even for me.

  I have to pull back.

  I unwrap my legs from Dean’s waist and slowly slide my feet back down to the ground and into the cold water, skimming the entire length of Dean’s body as I go. Suddenly, all I want to do is bury my face into his neck and beg his forgiveness.

  But Dean beats me to the punch. “I’m so sorry,” he says, his voice straining. He’s stolen the words right off the tip of my tongue. “I should have been honest with you right from the start. I should have told you I already knew so much about you, but I just wanted to let you... ”

  “No,” I stop him, leaning back to look him square in the face. “I understand why you didn’t tell me. You don’t have to apologize... ” I nuzzle into his neck again and hug him tight. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

  I pause.

  I lean back, considering.

  A wave crashes into my knees.

  Except, of course, I’d really like to know about one small thing.

  Maybe I shouldn’t bring it up right now. Or ever. Maybe I should just let sleeping dogs lie. Or, more accurately, sleeping ho-bags lie. But, damn it, I can’t help it. Wondering about her has gnawed wormholes into my brain.

  “But what about... that... girl?” My words come out in fits and starts. Even I can hear the crazy creeping into my voice. But I can’t stop myself.

  He takes a step back.

  “I was at your show last night,” I explain, trying desperately to make my tone sound smooth and rational.

  His face flushes.

  Is he flushing because he knows I saw him sing “Shaynee?” Or is it because he’s remembering what he did with Motorcycle Hoochie last night? Damn it! I know I have no right to question Dean about Little Miss Thigh Master—he’s already shown me through his every look and kiss and touch that, whatever happened with her last night, she meant nothing to him, the same way Jared meant nothing to me. But, still, I just need to hear him say it. “Who is she?”

  “Who is who?” His eyes reflect sincere confusion.

  “I came to talk to you at the back door, right after the show,” I continue, attempting to prompt his memory—or his confession.

  Nothing.

  “C-Bomb promised he’d bring you to the back door after the show so I could talk to you, and I saw you with that girl.” It takes every fiber of my self-control not to call her a hoochie or skank or ho-bag, or worse. Just the thought of Dean touching her milky thighs makes me want to throw up. And then rip the hair out of her scalp with my bare hands in large, bloody clumps. “The girl on the back of your bike?”

  Dean’s face flashes into an angry scowl as understanding finally descends upon him. “Caleb, you asshole!” he shouts.

  I jerk back, startled by his unexpected intensity.

  He shakes his head to assure me his anger isn’t directed at me. He places his palms firmly on my cheeks. “Shaynee, I had no idea you were there. I was a mess last night. Well, actually, I’ve been a mess ever since... ” He trails off and looks away, his eyes flickering with the hurt I’ve caused him. His hands drop to my shoulders.

  I nod, wordlessly acknowledging the agony I’ve put him through. Cold water slaps at my legs.

  He looks back at me. “Shaynee, that girl on the back of my bike was C-Bomb’s sister. Right after the show, he totally freaked out all of a sudden, begging me to take Miranda home right then. He said it was an emergency. All I wanted to do was get the hell out of there anyway, so I didn’t ask any questions.”

  All at once, I feel the weight of the world lift off my shoulders just as a ton of bricks falls onto my head. On the one hand, it’s a relief to find out Motorcycle Hoochie’s innocent identity, but, on the other hand, it makes my stomach twist to realize just how vehemently C-Bomb despises me. “I guess C-Bomb wanted to make sure I got an eyeful of his sister’s thighs around you,” I mutter.

  Dean grunts and his eyes harden into cobalt-blue slits. “I’ll deal with Caleb.” He clenches his jaw. “Shaynee, I haven’t even looked at another girl since our night at Wang Palace. Man, that night—that was it for me.”

  And there it is. Boom. That night should have been it for me, too.

  And I blew it.

  Clearly, this is my cue to talk about the elephant wearing a shark-tooth necklace that just galloped across the sand and bounded into the ocean. I shake my head and sigh. I really don’t want to ruin this amazing reunion with Dean by talking about my stupid detour through Jared-town, but, clearly, that’s exactly what Dean wants me to do. And I don’t blame him. I’m sure he needs to hear me say Jared means nothing to me, as much as I needed to hear him say the same about Thigh Girl.

  A frigid wave slams into our knees, and we simultaneously leap back and stumble out of the cold water and onto the shore. We plop down together onto the sand, side by side, shivering and trying to catch our breath.

  I steal a glance at him. He’s looking out at the ocean, his hands on his knees.

  Oh, God, I want this boy with all my heart. And I want him to want me, too—but the real me, not a filtered, sanitized version of me. I want him to love me, totally and completely, faults and all, stupidity and all, mistakes and all. Sob story and all. Because I’m not normal. I’m distinctly abnormal. And mean. And scary. And maybe just a wee bit unbalanced, too. And I want him to love me anyway.

  I look over at Dean again. Now he’s looking at me expectantly.

  Damn. I’m not imagining this. He’s waiting for me to tell him.

  I take a deep breath and then exhale. “I kissed Jared,” I blurt. I close my eyes, forcing myself to just spit it out. “And all I did was kiss him, no matter what Caleb might have told you.” I open my eyes and instantly regret it. Dean looks utterly disgusted, verging on enraged. “And the minute I kissed him,” I ramble quickly, “literally that very second, it just confirmed, without a doubt, that I only want you. I felt nothing for him and everything for you, and I knew it, right then and there.” I feel the urge to whimper, but I stifle it as best I can. “It made me realize I didn’t care if you already knew about my mom... that my mom... died... and that you didn’t tell me. Right then, I knew that, whatever your reasons for not telling me the truth when I was babbling on and on about my supposedly not-dead mom, your intentions were good. And kind.”

  Tears have sprung into my eyes, despite my fierce wish to keep them at bay. I have no desire to manipulate Dean with damsel-in-distress tears. If he’s going to forgive me, and move forward with me, and love me in the real world and not just in a fairytale, it has to be with his whole heart, after informed consent, and not because of some knee-jerk reaction to a girl in need of saving. I wipe my eyes and do my best to look strong yet sincerely contrite. Because, God help me, I am, most definitely, both of
those things. “And this thing about my mom, about my mom... dying.” I force down the lump in my throat. “I haven’t handled it well. Not well at all. In fact, I think I’ve become sort of... unhinged because of it. Maybe even severely damaged. But I’ve decided to start letting my feelings out from now on so they can’t poison me anymore. And I think that’s gonna help a lot.”

  I’m out of breath.

  I look at Dean’s face. I can’t read him.

  I know I should wait for him to respond, but I can’t stop more words from gushing out of me. “I’m so sorry, Dean,” I continue. “Sometimes, I... I don’t think very clearly. And I panic. And bottle things up. And shut people out. And fly off the handle. Sometimes, I do really stupid things. I’m sorry.”

  He assesses me, but still he doesn’t speak.

  I’m dangerously close to breaking down and sobbing. “I’m sorry,” I squeak out again. I sound pitiful, even to myself.

  He sighs. “I’m so sorry about your mom, Shaynee,” he says. And somehow, it doesn’t sound even remotely like a greeting card coming from him.

  He pauses again.

  I bite my lip, restraining myself from filling the silence.

  “I kept thinking I’d abused your trust, the very thing I never wanted to do,” he says quietly, “and pushed you right into the arms of that douchebag. Watching you drive off with Jared, and then hearing Caleb going on an on about how you were ‘macking down’ on him... ” He grunts and runs his fingers through his hair. “It was painful, Shaynee. I’m not gonna lie.” His voice cracks. He takes a deep breath and looks down at the sand. When he looks back up, his eyes glint with resolve. Clearly, he’s made some kind of decision.

  I brace myself.

  “Look, here’s the deal. However we got here’s how we got here. Whatever crazy-ass, zigzagging, effed-up road we had to take to get to right now was the way it had to be. All that matters is that we got here. You and me. ‘Cause being with you, right now, is exactly where I want to be.” He lowers his voice to the faintest whisper. “It hurts too much to be anywhere else.”

  My heart’s exploding in my chest.

  He grabs my hand. “I want you, Shaynee. All of you. The dark, the light, the black, the yellow, the perfect, the-not-so-perfect... the totally incomprehensible.” He leans into me, his eyes blazing with heat. “The freckles.” He grins when I blush. “I know you’re dealing with a lot. And I’m gonna help you through it. I want to help you through it.” He pushes a lock of my hair behind my ear. “But you gotta promise me something.”

  I nod. Whatever it is, the answer is yes.

  His voice takes on a sudden intensity. “Promise me you’re never gonna kiss anyone else, ever again.”

  I nod again, this time profusely.

  “Because your lips are all mine now.”

  I want to tackle him and smother him with kisses. “I promise,” I choke out. I want to press my body against his, right here on the beach and roll around with him in the sand and pin him down and tie him up so he can’t run away and lie on top of him and maul him for the rest of my days. I take a deep breath, trying to control the fierce urges clanging around inside me. “I won’t abuse your faith in me... ever again.”

  “I won’t abuse your faith in me, either. Ever again.”

  My heart—my big ol’ beating-heart—lurches and leaps. “Even in jest?” I ask.

  “Even in jest,” he replies, trying to maintain a deadpan expression. But despite his best efforts to suppress it, a glorious smile spreads across his handsome face. He laughs.

  I grin back at him. And then I start laughing, too.

  For a moment, we look at each other, both of us chuckling and grinning like simpletons.

  “Well, then, do we have a deal, Walkie-Talkie Girl?” he finally asks, extending his hand.

  I place my hand in his and formally shake on it, my smile hurting my cheeks. “Yeah, Frodo, we’ve absolutely, definitely got a deal.”

  Epilogue

  I watch Mom from my perch, high above the river. She’s wading into the rushing water below. The current streams past her knees, causing her white dress to drag and get pulled along. A wreath of small white blossoms encircles her head like a crown, and delicate flowers dot the length of her thick, brown waves. From my vantage point up here in this tree, her billowing white dress encircles her like a halo.

  She raises her face up to me, beaming. “Come on down from there, Shaynee-bug,” Mom calls to me. Her deep-throated laugh rises up above the rushing water. “The water’s invigorating.”

  I don’t move. I’m not sure, after all this time up here, I remember how to loosen my white-knuckled grip. I’m pretty sure my hands have fused with the wood.

  “Come on,” Mom chides, laughing. “Silly girl. Just open your hands.”

  I look down at my hands, clutching the tree branch, and they magically open. I wiggle my fingers and blood begins to flow back into them. I look down at Mom, amazed.

  She chuckles. “You see? Now that wasn’t hard at all, was it?”

  I don’t know what to do next. I look at my hands.

  “Come on down, honey,” Mom coaxes.

  I do as I’m told. I shimmy down from my perch, slowly, carefully, with trepidation, and work my way down to the sloping bank of the river. I put my foot out to take a step into the rushing current and stop short. I’m scared.

  “Come in, honey,” Mom coos. “The water’s refreshing. Makes you feel alive.” She laughs again and extends her arms toward me.

  “I miss you so much,” I whisper, a lump rising in my throat.

  “I’m right here.”

  I hesitate.

  “Come on.”

  I step forward into the cold, rushing water, and my skin instantly turns to goose flesh. I gasp. This isn’t refreshing, Mom. This is frickin’ freezing.

  Mom laughs again. “Come on, Bug. You’ll get used to it, I promise.”

  I wade in, slowly, one foot in front of the other, and finally come to a stop right in front of her. The water rushes and pools around us. The current wants to push me downstream, but I brace my legs beneath me and hold strong. I am immovable.

  I take in Mom’s beautiful face. She looks even more magnificent than I remembered—if that’s possible. She’s glowing.

  “Have you been singing?” she asks, squinting at me.

  I nod.

  Her face instantly brightens. “Good girl.” She reaches down to the rushing water, and wets her fingers in the cold current. Then she raises her hands and caresses my cheeks—my forehead, my nose—with the dripping water. I close my eyes, and she gently swipes her cold, wet finger across my eyelids. Then she dips her hands into the cool water again and smooths the hair away from my face.

  My eyes are still closed when I feel her cheek against mine. I hear her inhale the scent of me from the crook of my neck, from my hair. Soft lips brush my eyelids.

  “Shaynee-bug,” she whispers in my ear.

  Her voice brims with so much emotion, I open my eyes.

  Tears stream down her face. “My cup runneth over,” Mom whispers, choking up. “My cup runneth over.”

  My heart pounds in my chest. “Mom.”

  She smiles at me through her tears.

  And I smile back.

  The Music of Heart Shaped Rock

  A note from the author, Laura Roppé

  As I wrote Heart Shaped Rock, I felt so invested in the characters and their story, I knew I had to write their songs, too. But could I pull off songs for three totally different characters (Shaynee, Dean and Mom), in three distinct musical styles? I wasn’t sure. Up until now, I’ve only written songs for myself.

  The first song I wrote for the book was the title track, Shaynee’s sad song, “Heart Shaped Rock.” It actually felt like Shaynee came through me to write the song. I cried buckets. The minute the song was finished, I knew I needed someone else to sing it for the recording. Practically speaking, the tone of my voice is all wrong for sixteen-year-old Shaynee, but
, also, as a forty-something-year-old mother of two, I have too much life experience to authentically convey Shaynee’s raw vulnerability.

  Well, when you hear the title song, as well as Shaynee’s second song (her love song to Dean, “Cobalt Blue”), I hope you agree I found the perfect Shaynee in the beautiful and talented Lauren Coleman. Lauren is a tremendously gifted musician, performer and songwriter. (If you want to hear some freakin’ awesome music, Google her band, Pebaluna, and watch their videos.) The beauty and honesty Lauren brought to both songs blew me away. So, thank you, Lauren Coleman.

  For Dean’s voice, I turned to my real-life inspiration for the character: my cousin, the fabulous songwriter/singer/performer/multi-instrumentalist/rock star/motorcycle boy, Matthew Embree. As you’ll hear from Matt’s performance of “Girl in Yellow,” his voice is every bit as distinctive and expressive and magical as Shaynee’s description of Dean’s voice. And it’s no wonder: Matthew has toured the world as the lead singer and guitarist of indie rock band, Rx Bandits, one of the greatest bands on the planet. (And yes, the real-life drummer of Rx Bandits, Chris “C-Gak” Tsagakis, truly is a “monster,” just like Dean says during his dinner with Shaynee at Wang Palace.) I was so grateful that Matthew, as busy as he is, agreed to bring Dean to life for me. By the way, on the song, that’s Matt singing and playing every instrument, just as Dean himself would do.

  Writing and performing Mom’s songs for Heart Shaped Rock was the easiest part of this whole project because—surprise!—I’m Mom... albeit in an alternate universe where I sadly didn’t survive the cancer battle I waged in 2009; and where I had a girl and a boy instead of my actual two daughters, Sophie and Chloe; and also where I’m quite a bit cooler than I really am. (As a little side-note-Easter-egg sort of thing, if you take a listen to “Cobalt Blue,” Shaynee’s love song to Dean, that’s me singing the back-up vocals on the track. It was important for Mom to be there in spirit for Shaynee—“backing her up,” literally and metaphorically—as Shaynee followed her heart and finally let her feelings out.

  To hear the songs from Heart Shaped Rock, go to www.LauraRoppe.com or iTunes. If you love them as much as I do, you can download them on iTunes. I’m also doing regular music giveaways on my Facebook page, so come find me and say hi at www.facebook.com/LauraRoppe for your chance to win. I’d love to hear from you!