by Jodie Larson
“Hey,” Myles says, moving into my line of sight. “Did I lose you?”
I smile and move into his lap. “No, just lost in thought.” Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pepper kisses along the available skin in front of me. “Just thinking about how happy I am right now. Almost too happy, like the other shoe is about to drop or something.”
He runs a hand through my hair. I close my eyes on a deep inhale at the simple, yet loving touch. When I open them, I find his smiling face, the usual mask of indifference gone. Before me is the Myles I knew before, the one I loved with every ounce of my being and who loved me with the fierce intensity of a thousand suns.
“Let’s enjoy the moment.” He kisses me again, softly, sweetly. A kiss filled with a promise of more, but gone all too soon. “Before we get carried away, let’s keep our mojo going. Those songs are buzzing through my head and I don’t want to lose the momentum.”
He’s right, as usual. We can’t let this slip away. Once Myles is on to something, he doesn’t stop. The fact it’s over my words brings a new light to my soul. Words on paper are just that until someone reads them and brings them into their heart. Myles does more than just read. He gives them life, as if they’re crawling inside you, forcing you to embrace the emotions he’s conveying.
Crawling off his lap, I return to the notebook and write as he plays. One song turns into two, the notes streaming off his guitar like water. They flow between us, around us, bringing us closer together. Every once in a while I’ll catch him staring at me, or giving me an occasional wink. The leg brushes and playing footsie doesn’t go unnoticed as well. I can’t resist a man who enjoys the subtle art of flirting.
After a couple of hours, my legs ache, along with my hands. “We need a break.”
Myles looks at me as if I’m stupid. “Now? We’re right in the middle of a song.”
I stand and lean from side to side, enjoying the stretch in my muscles. “It won’t take long. I need a drink and probably a bathroom break. Don’t you need to rest your fingers?”
A devilish grin takes over his face. “Would you like me to show you how un-tired they are?”
I shake my head and laugh. “Come on, perv boy.” He holds up a finger as he finishes his thought with the guitar. I slip out the door and head to the kitchen, finding Breck and Pax still sitting at the table playing cards.
“Where’d Kade go?” I eagerly gulp down a glass of water, enjoying the coolness as it coats my throat.
“Phone call with Adrienne,” Pax states, jutting his thumb toward Kade’s room.
“Ah. Gotcha.” No need to dig further with that one. We all know what his “phone calls” consist of.
Breck scoots over and I take a seat next to him, looking at the cards in his hand. He counts to fifteen, moving the pegs of the cribbage board, while Pax lays down the pair for two. I haven’t played since I was a teen, but some of my fondest memories as a kid was playing with my grandpa. He taught me when I was eight, making me a master at the game by the age of eleven. Looking between Pax and the cards in Breck’s hands, I tap at a card.
“No cheating,” Pax says, scowling.
“She’s not cheating.” Breck lays down the card I pointed out and takes his three points. “What are you two working on in there?”
Taking another sip of water, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “Myles was snooping and found my notebook.”
“Oh, so you’re acting out your diary?” Pax wags his brows, earning him my middle finger.
“My lyrics notebook, asshole. He’s putting the words to music, something I wasn’t able to do.”
“Just giving you shit. We could hear you singing in there. Unless you two are into some really kinky shit, then please don’t tell us.” Again, Pax earns my middle finger.
“We heard the one song. It’s really good. You seriously wrote that?” Breck counts out his crib and shuffles the cards for the next hand.
I nod. “They didn’t start out that clear. Myles helped me pull them together, taking pieces from one and putting them into another. And before we knew it, we had a song.”
Breck slings his arm around my shoulders. “Those pieces wouldn’t be there without you. Are you going to incorporate them into your set?”
Just then, Myles walks into the kitchen, his eyes bouncing between Breck’s arm and my eyes. He grabs his own glass of water and slides in next to Pax, keeping his stare on the arm around me. Breck slowly takes his arm off and turns his attention back to the cards. If tension could be visible, we’d be suffocated by now. Why is this so awkward? It’s not like they’ve never seen us together before. Maybe if Myles stops bouncing his leg under the table, I could relax a bit.
“Sounded great in there,” Pax says, finally breaking the silence.
“Yeah, Tay’s got talent. Not like we didn’t already know.”
I clear my throat. “But you’re the one bringing the words to life. That’s the real talent.”
“What was up with you two earlier?” Pax changes the subject.
“Huh?” What’s he talking about?
“You two walked into the living room, sat there for a few minutes, then disappeared again. Kinda strange.”
Myles smirks. “I didn’t feel like sharing her genius with the rest of you.”
I roll my eyes. “Whatever.”
“It’s true.” He wipes his mouth and places the empty glass on the table. “I had every intention of watching a movie with her, but when she put up a fight with the notebook, I knew I had to read it. Then the melodies hit me fast, climbing one on top of the other. I knew we had to get them on paper as soon as possible.”
Once again, the words coming out of his mouth makes me fall all over again. I know his jealous streak is still intact, but he washes it away with a single look, one laced with dirty promises for later. Like the ones floating in his eyes as we stare at each other.
Myles holds out his hand to me. “Ready to get back at it?”
“Yep.” Taking his hand, I let him lead me away from Pax and Breck’s snickering. If only he knew how ready I was to get back at what we had.
“You’re going to love it here,” Myles says, holding my hand in the back of the car the label sent to pick us up. The tint on the windows is so dark, I can barely see the buildings as we pass by them through the midday rush. One thing is for sure, the traffic in Los Angeles is a lot different than the traffic back home.
While living with my mom, we only made it up to L.A. once, to see the Hollywood sign. She thought it would cheer me up. Nothing was going to help, though. All I wanted was my bed. Mom didn’t understand, but turned around anyway. It was hard to verbally express my disinterest in everything. Somehow I think she knew that. She was just trying to be a good mom.
It feels like hours before we stop out front of a nice high-rise in Long Beach. The instant I open the door, the crashing waves draw my attention. Myles winks as he tips the driver once our bags are out of the trunk.
“Home sweet condo.” Grabbing my hand, he takes me through the immaculate lobby. Polished wood, high glass windows, and several luxurious pieces of furniture greet us as Myles pulls me along the marbled floors. Several plants decorate the lobby desk and I laugh to myself. This is a huge change from the apartment he had over his parents’ garage.
Once we’re in the elevator, Myles corners me, caging me in with his arms. He hungrily attacks my mouth, like it’s been days since we’ve last kissed, rather than hours. I drag my fingers through his hair, pulling at the roots while pushing my body into his. The faint ding of the elevator barely registers as we reconnect. However, the loud clearing of a throat in the open doors does.
I think the gentleman is about as red as I feel, only his is more from anger than embarrassment.
“Donovan,” he says, the scowl permanently placed on his face.
“Mr. Kaplan.” Myles gives a nod as we pass by. Mr. Kaplan shakes his head as the doors close behind us.
“That was humiliating. Not the
best way to introduce myself to your neighbors.” My face is on fire, one that’s spreading down to my toes. Myles just laughs and opens his door, dragging our luggage with him.
“Ignore him. He’s a grumpy old man with no life.” He grabs me by the waist and ushers me inside. The moment I walk across the threshold, I slow my steps and my breath catches. This is what I expected, a loft-like condo with an open concept, vaulted ceilings, and views that inspire.
The modern stainless steel appliances and polished concrete floors are balanced with the exposed beams and gray walls. It’d almost be too dark if it wasn’t for the small, round table with four white chairs, similar to the ones at the breakfast bar.
Leaving his side, I take a self-guided tour with Myles following behind me. It’s simple and minimal, like he never fully moved in. A white futon sits in the living room, next to two leather ottomans and a giant TV. His Xbox sits on the floor, making me smile. I knew he’d never give that up.
A few artsy pictures adorn the wall, mainly old venue posters of his favorite bands. I snicker at the Beastie Boys one. The one of a black and white guitar catches my eye. I look back at Myles, who just shrugs.
“Found it in a gallery not far from here. It fit with the place, so I figured why not.”
“It’s a great piece. Very tasteful.”
I take his hand and turn down the short hallway. To the left is a smaller bathroom, simple and keeping the black and white theme of the rest of the apartment. Across the hall is a spare bedroom. There’s another futon, along with a tall dresser and desk in the corner. Two guitars stand by the wall, both newer. This must be where he writes. Papers are strung across the desktop, just like they used to be back in high school. Organization wasn’t always his strong suit when it came to music. When inspiration hit, he grabbed whatever he could and started writing. Seems to still happen today.
“It’s really nice,” I say. He smiles and pulls me into his bedroom with a sly grin.
“People don’t usually say ‘nice’ when they’re around me.” I look around the room in awe. A gigantic king-sized bed sits in the middle of a wall with a white, padded headboard and dark gray comforter. Hmm, I wonder how much padding is really on there. Sunlight pours in from the sliding glass doors, making it seem as if every light in the room is on. To the left of the bed is a walk-in closet, which I take the liberty of perusing, imagining what it would be like to fill the empty space with my clothes. Leaving the walk-in closet behind, I note a door on the other side of the room. A closer look confirms it is the master bath.
Heaven. That’s what this is. Outside of the hotels we’ve been staying at, I’ve never seen a bathroom like this. It’s not huge, but the glass door shower and whirlpool tub are calling my name right now. The whole bathroom is stark white, except for the vanity, which is black. Everything about it screams luxury. This is way different than my 1970’s-era bathroom at my dad’s house.
“Here. You’ve gotta see this.” Myles leads me to the glass doors, which open up to his own private balcony overlooking the ocean. Bright, blue water as far as the eye can see. I’ve heard about this kind of blue, but have never witnessed it before. It’s so pure and calming, hitting just about every shade you could think of between the shore and the horizon.
“This is amazing.” I squeeze his hand before walking to the stucco rail. Leaning over, I see a sand volleyball area with two teams playing hard. They look younger than us, but not by much. I imagine this is the perfect balance for young professionals; a beach city that offers all of the perks of city life but not as expensive as living in L.A.
Myles cages me in again, placing a light kiss to my exposed shoulder. “Can’t beat the view. That’s what drew me to this place. Living in the middle of nowhere makes you want to appreciate a view like this when you can.”
I nod. “Kansas City definitely doesn’t look like this. I’d do the same thing.”
We stand for a quiet moment, listening to the waves. They lull me into a state of contentment, making me forget that my fate is being determined while we’re here. I overheard Don talking with Linda on the phone at our last stop, something about how I won’t be continuing on after this. He was too far away but I know I heard “distractions” and “focus” associated with Myles’ name. Which means, they need to get rid of me and allow Myles to focus; to eliminate the “distraction”. Personally, it kills me, but professionally, I can’t disagree with them. He has been less focused lately; showing up late to meetings, dragging me along beside him then flaking out because he’s busy letting his hands roam my body rather than take part in the discussions.
As much as it hurts, I won’t be the cause for the demise of his career. If it comes down to it, I’ll leave before I’m supposed to. Myles has earned this. I’m here living in a dream; playing pretend. This is Myles’ reality. I wasn’t in it before and even though I had hoped it’d be different, I probably won’t be after. Eventually the dream ends and you have to wake up.
“Hey.” Myles turns me to face him, brushing a finger down my cheek. “You okay?”
Choking back all the hurt and pain that wants to break free, I smile and kiss his lips. “Perfect.”
Myles follows me to the living room, taking the spot next to me on the couch. I settle into his side as he takes control of the remote, flipping through channels as I lay my head on his chest. The steady beat of his heart is comforting and a reminder of what I’ll miss when the tour ends in two weeks.
The remote lands with a thud on the ottoman. “Wanna Netflix and Chill?” Mischief twinkles in his eyes. How can I say no to that?
Reaching my arms above my head, I fake the loudest yawn possible. “Sure, I’m kinda wiped out. All that travelling is exhausting and then some asshole keeps waking me up in the middle of the night.”
With a shriek, I find myself on my back in two seconds. Myles hovers above me, the devilish smirk back. “Who is this asshole? Do I need to kick his ass?”
“Well,” I say, running my hands over his shoulders. “Like I said, he’s an asshole. Kind of mean, thinks very highly of himself, acts like a self-proclaimed God of the guitar.”
“My kind of guy.”
I roll my eyes. “He also has another side, one not everyone sees. Sure, he talks a big game, but deep down he has a heart of gold. I know better than anyone else. There’s good in him.”
“Come to the dark side.” Myles growls in my ear and I lose it, laughing as he tickles my sides. “We have cookies.”
“Oh, my God,” I say, barely able to catch my breath. He slows his assault to a caress, tracing my hips, my thighs, my arms. Everywhere he touches comes alive, shocks igniting my nerve endings until everything tingles.
“Should we open up this bed and christen it?”
I blink at him several times. “You mean you’ve…?”
He shakes his head. “I never take women back here. You’re the first to walk through that door. Well, besides Lizzie and my mom.” A smile ghosts his lips. “No one has been worthy until now.”
Words escape me. I’ve heard the stories, seen it with my own eyes, all of his manwhore ways. Now he’s telling me that he’s never let a girl in, never let her get past what they see on the outside. Every girl since me has been a superficial conquest, a means to an end. I would like to assume if he was serious with someone, they would have been here, let inside his private sanctuary. But no, no one has.
Or am I reading too much into this?
Warmth spreads through my chest as I search his eyes, trying to find confirmation that my thoughts are more than just my wild imagination. Myles zeroes in on my eyes, speaking without words, letting me know that I’m not wrong about this at all. He really was waiting for me…in his own twisted way.
Running a hand through his hair, I smile and kiss his lips. “There’s the man I remember.”
The boyish charm lightens his face, making him seem younger. Gone are the worry lines and drawn-together brows. It’s like his mini confession eased his conscience.
Once again, he’s my Myles.
The sun starts to set as we snuggle close together, all thoughts of christening furniture gone…for now. Instead, Myles flips through the selections and presses play before I even have the chance to see what he’s picked.
“Let me guess, some Steven Segal movie?” Or worse yet, some horror movie that will give me nightmares for days.
Myles gets comfortable, spooning me from behind while adjusting the pillow under his head. I wrap my arms around his and lean against his shoulder. The opening credits start, the loud synthesized beat giving away the movie.
“No way.”
He holds me tight against him, kissing the back of my head. “It’s still your favorite movie, isn’t it?”
I nod. “Of course. Who doesn’t love Maverick and Goose?”
“Don’t forget Iceman.”
So many nights we’d lie like this, watching Top Gun over and over again. Myles would argue that Meg Ryan wasn’t in the movie enough and I would counter with they needed more volleyball scenes. The arguments would turn into singing competitions, ending with him singing “You’ve Lost that Loving Feeling” completely off-key. Little did he know, that was the reason why I loved the movie. Not because the story was great or the half-naked men. It was because he made it fun to watch.
Somewhere toward the middle, I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I know, Myles is carrying me to his bed.
“Is it over?” My voice sounds groggy as I rub at my eyes. He lays me down, helping me strip out of my clothes. When I’m just in my underwear, he grabs a shirt from his drawer and helps slide it over me. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“It’s fine. You’ve had a long day. Hell, a long couple months. You need a good night’s rest.” Laying me down, Myles quickly strips down to his boxers and crawls into bed with me. He snakes an arm around my waist, nuzzling his nose into my hair. “I like you in my space.”
I drag my fingers along the veins of his forearms. “Thanks for letting me stay here.”
“Like you would stay anywhere else.” He says it so matter-of-factly that I can’t help but smile. He’s right, though. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than here.