The Beat Between Us: A Rock Star Redemption Romance (The Heartbeat Series Book 1)
Page 6
“Just ask again,” I pressed, a smile spreading my lips. “Ask again, but this time, don’t act like yourself. Act like a guy who actually likes a woman. No jokes. No limericks. Normal damn words. Maybe even some flowers.”
“I was a perfect gentleman the first time I asked her on a date,” Bernie protested, but only half-heartedly.
“Sure you were, Bern.” I gave a fake tip of my invisible hat and I turned around to leave.
“Don’t let it be several weeks again, Silas. I like seeing your face.” It was a gentle push.
Why was everyone always freaking pushing me to do this or that? I’d gotten out of the damn bed, hadn’t I?
Anna.
I woke up after a dreamless sleep.
A peaceful, uninterrupted, night. It had been so, so long since that had happened. At home, I always worried he would come in. On the road, basically a homeless runaway, I’d slept with one eye open every night. The whole way across the country, nearly from coast to coast. I couldn’t afford hotel rooms, not and save any money at all for what I needed when I arrived here. I’d been too scared to hitchhike. Taking the Greyhound all the way was more expensive than taking Amtrak from Flagstaff to Nashville, then catching buses from there.
It had been long. Tiring.
And, after the wonderful night’s sleep—entirely worth it.
Rolling over, I checked the time on the small, old digital clock I’d brought with me. It was a little pixelated, the screen black at the corners from age, but it worked. Of course, after the little health spell I’d had at the bar, I’d crawled into bed and totally forgot to set my alarm for the campus tour today. The registration gal had made it clear that the tours would start promptly at 9 AM. Well, it was 8:40 and I was still in pajamas.
I bolted out of bed, stripping as I stood, my shirt getting a bit stuck over my head, so I ended up stumbling around disoriented trying to extricate myself. Eventually, I was no longer at risk of polyester suffocation. The sleep shorts were easier to tear away from my body as I moved to the dresser and quickly opened drawers to find a clean, not too shabby, pair of jeans and one of my favorite shirts—burgundy and name brand, found one lucky thrift store trip a year ago.
I yanked it over my head, and the jeans up my still-half-asleep legs, slipped into my shoes, not bothering with socks, and I grabbed my smaller bag to bolt out of the door. In my rush, I struggled with the lock, but finally managed it. I felt frantic, my heart racing, and all because I was late for a stupid tour with a college junior. Just another kid.
But I need to make a good first impression. I needed to get my schedule, buy my books, know where the heck my classes were.
When I raced out into the morning light, my long wild hair fanning out behind me, I squinted at the brightness of the sun since the dorm entrance faced east, I was grateful that the tour groups were gathering in the common garden between two of the dormitories. It meant I wasn’t far away, which was good since I only had 10 minutes to spare.
Out of breath, I jogged into the garden space, which smelled of lilac and freesia. Immediately, I scanned the crowd and found Nat’s grinning face. She tapped her wrist playfully, though she wasn’t wearing a watch. I shrugged, trying to smile, but still too winded to manage one. I was bummed when I quickly realized that I wasn’t in Nat’s group. No, I was with the severe looking girl with the perfect makeup, perfect hair, and ironed-to-perfection button-up blouse.
I had a feeling, looking at her, that my group wasn’t going to turn out to be the ‘fun’ one.
“And you must be Anna Silverman. Last to arrive.” She sort of ‘tsk-tsked’ after speaking, checking off what I assumed was my name on her little black clipboard.
“Yeah, sorry,” I mumbled out, biting my lower lip and digging the toe of my shoe absentmindedly into the moss between two bricks that paved the path.
“Well, it happens,” said the girl with curls so exactly done that they looked closer to doll hair versus human. “But, word to the wise, most of the professors who teach here aren’t going to let you get by with being tardy. Half the time, they’ll lock the doors to keep late students from sneaking in.”
“That seems a bit ridiculous,” a boy blurted out, immediately going red, like he meant to think it versus say it. “I mean,” he ran his hands through his hair nervously, the new pinkness of his cheeks making his freckles stand out like mud spatters on a pristine white car. “Sometimes shit happens and you run late. It’s not a crime.”
One of the other tour guides laughed, an uncomfortable hair-raising sound. “Oh, it might as well be a crime here. Especially if you have Professor Shondy. She’s a beast when it comes to tardiness.”
“Almost failed me my first semester for it, even though my grades were perfect,” the third, and last of the tour guides said. “I mean, seriously. Just don’t be late. Okay, guys? Get up, get dressed, high-tail it to the cafeteria to beat the crowd, and get in your seat. It’s not rocket science.”
“Easy for you to say, Ms. Physics major.” The tour guide with the unsettling laugh was grinning like the Cheshire cat.
“All right, guys. Let’s get moving. We don’t have all day.” My tour guided turned on her heels and headed out of the garden area. “Come on.” She threw back at our group, not looking to see if we were following orders or not.
I let my new student companions head after her first, wanting to take up the rear and avoid too much attention from our guide. Her snarky remark when I’d first arrived was enough interaction with her.
As I walked away, I listened to the two other guides carry on behind me.
“Lord, she’s always so serious.” The physics major crossed her arms and shook her head. “I thought she’d loosen up eventually, but year after year, she only gets worse.”
“Some people just have a permanent stick up their—” The creepy laugher started, but was quickly interrupted by Ms. Physics.
“Hush, Sash. She’s right. We best get going. Line up, everyone.” Ms. Physics kept talking, but her voice faded into background noise as the life of the campus began to pour inward towards me, towards the gaggle of students following after the serious student leading the charge.
I watched everything, as if seeing color for the first time. It was nearly overwhelming, but in a good way. Like the way going to a zoo or a giant museum or seeing the ocean for the first time can be overwhelming. It fills your senses—the colors, the smells, the noise.
“All right, everyone gather around,” our tour guide—I wish I knew her name, and I sort of assumed she’d introduced herself prior to my arrival, so I was too embarrassed to ask her for it—gestured at a large building behind her, “this is where you’ll find Financial Aid, Tuition Accounts, the Dean’s office...”
She kept droning on, and I found my mind, and gaze, wandering around my surroundings again. It still felt so surreal that I was here. Like I needed to pinch myself and find out if I was just caught in a long, wakeful dream.
We started moving again, she kept talking.
A man walked by, tall with a heavy beard and a streak of grey through his red-brown hair. At a quick glance, he reminded me of my stepfather.
“You’ll never get away from me.”
He’d once said.
Look at me now, you bastard.
I had to force my mind to stop thinking about him, because if I didn’t, then I’d start crying. And that would be stupid, and embarrassing, and I was supposed to be utterly, incandescently happy right now.
And that’s what I was going to be, dammit.
THE TOUR SEEMED TO last forever, but by the end of it, we’d gotten our class schedules sorted, purchased our books (and college paraphernalia, though I’d abstained from everything except for a clearance hat in bright teal) and been let loose to further orient ourselves with the campus.
It was then that I wished I had a phone so I could text Nat and see what she was doing. After making sure I knew exactly where each of my lectures were, I went back to my room to put my books away.
Not that I wasn’t okay with being alone. God, I’d spent most of my life friendless and alone. I strolled along, my denim purse swinging softly against my hip, and I enjoyed the air and the light breeze. The birds were singing everywhere. I wasn’t sure what they were, what birds were in North Carolina. Everything was so different than New Mexico. So green and alive. Warm, but not scorching. The air was easy to breath, or easier for me at least. A part of me wondered if I hadn’t always belonged to this East Coast life. It felt like an old familiar sweater, just waiting to shrug over your shoulders and provide comfort.
Main Street was sweet, old-time-movie iconic, with mom-and-pop stores looking perfectly comfortable beside more chain-style businesses. A barber shop pole twirled, its colors mesmeric and moving. A little sign advertised homemade candles and essential oils, and a thrift store boasted seventies vintage alongside actual furs. I walked closer to that last window, staring at a merle-hued swing coat. I wondered what it was made out of, or if the fur had been dyed.
Feeling a little woozy, I realized I hadn’t had anything to eat or drink since waking. That wasn’t good for me. And it wasn’t good for the littler something forming inside me. Across the street and a few stores down, a swinging sign shaped like a tea-cup called to me. I wanted to conserve my money—I had to conserve my money—but treating myself this once would be okay. I needed to find a job, and fast, I thought as I patted the purse that had been seriously-deflated by my home goods purchasing.
A bell pinged as I entered the café.
There were two other people seated, drinking coffee and working on computers. Though they were seated near one another, it was obvious they both only desired the companionship of their electronics.
I moved, feeling awkward for whatever reason—I mean, there are a billion reasons why I’d feel awkward. Teenager. New town. Surrounded by strangers and assaulted by (wanted) change—towards the refrigerated display of pastries and other foods. Immediately, my eyes went to a giant, candy-topped confection, but the sensible, rational, and pregnant, part of me forced my eyes to an egg-white wrap with spinach. It was nearly four dollars though, and I found myself patting my purse worriedly.
A deep, happy voice that boomed throughout the establishment greeted me then. I looked up to find the speaker, who matched—in every way—the speech. “Welcome to Bernie’s! You’re new!” He said it like he was genuinely happy to see a new face.
“I can’t imagine I’m the first new person you’ve seen lately, not with college letting in soon.” I sort of tumbled out the words nervously. Yep. Just call me ‘hella awkward’ girl.
His smile widened. “No, that’s true. But I can tell I’m going to like you.”
“And you don’t say that to every new customer that walks in?” Again, I spoke faster than I could think. It wasn’t normal for me. I’d gotten accustomed to keeping my mouth shut over things, not arguing, staying low. But here? Right now? I was basically egging this business owner on. It was as if something had fundamentally changed inside of me; a wall had collapsed, one I’d held in place so long that it had become a symbol of my life.
I was on the other side now though. And the barrier was crumbling behind me.
“No, actually I don’t,” he chortled out, his great shoulders rising and falling in the throes of humor.
“Not sure I believe you.” And now I found myself smiling. I couldn’t help myself.
His eyes were twinkling and he pulled his braided hair over one shoulder, an obviously-habitual gesture. “Well, I guess I’ll have to prove it to you.” He leaned over the counter, the dark lines in his plaid shirt nearly matching the glossy countertop. “Let me guess—you’re a... peppermint mocha made with soy milk.”
I shook my head ‘no’ and opened my mouth to speak. He held up his hand to stop me. “No, no. Let me try again. I’ve got a real knack for this.” His eyes squinted and he concentrated so hard I thought a vein in his temple might burst. “Caramel. You’re definitely a caramel girl. And cold, not hot. So, one iced caramel coffee with extra drizzle coming up!” he almost shouted, full of triumph and confidence.
I laughed then, and it felt good and warm coming from my stomach. It wasn’t hollow at all. “Can you make it decaf?”
He quirked an eyebrow. “Decaf? About to start college, a world of books sitting atop your shoulders, and you want decaf?”
Thinking quickly, I shrugged. “I’ve got a few more hours before I need to seriously get my buzz on.”
He seemed to consider that. “Then I expect to see you often. I’m the best buzz provider in town. Not that I’d say that myself.”
“You just did say that yourself.”
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.” He turned around with a wink and started making my beverage. I leaned against the counter and watched people passing outside. A striking woman in bright red with a white floppy hat paused in front of the coffee shop, as if debating to come in, but she then waved at someone I couldn’t see and walked swiftly away. A little boy holding his mother’s hand toddled by, pointing at the ice cream place directly across from the café. She shook her head, though, and I could hear the little boy’s whine, sharp and cutting, through the glass.
“Order up,” the barista’s voice called my attention back. “Ms.?”
He waited for me to respond. I smiled again. “Anna. My name’s Anna.”
“And I’m Bernie.” He gestured at the drink. “Go on, try it.”
Grabbing a straw, I unwrapped it and stuck it gently into the very full drink. Despite my care, a little still squished out of the top. As the man watched, I brought it up to my mouth and sipped gingerly. “It’s delicious.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less. Not that I’d say so myself, but I’m the—”
Two voices sprang to life behind me. “best buzz in town.”
Only one voice spoke next. “Bernie, you’ve got to get a new line.”
“Hey, she brought up getting a ‘buzz’ first,” Bernie defended himself.
“Don’t blame a newbie on your tired lines, Bern,” the second patron said.
“Yeah, yeah,” Bernie waved them off. “Can I get you anything else, Anna?”
The two other patrons went back to their computers and I bit my lip, considering if I really wanted to spend more money. I hadn’t even looked up at the huge menu to find pricing on the coffee. “Um, no. I guess I’m okay.” As soon as I said it, my stomach growled loudly. My eyes widened, and I could add ‘totally embarrassed’ to ‘awkward’ for this particular social encounter.
Bernie sobered, and I didn’t care for that from him. I mean, I barely knew him, but jovial and room-filling seemed much more his style. “You’re going to eat.” He spoke in a way that didn’t invite arguing. Of course, I did, though. I didn’t want handouts. I wanted to do this on my own. I wanted to do life on my own. I needed to prove I could... before it wasn’t just me that I was responsible for.
“No. I don’t have the money.” I set down the coffee I was still holding. “I mean, I do have money. I can pay for this drink, but I don’t have enough money to spend all willy-nilly.”
“I didn’t say you were paying. I said you were eating.” Bernie went over to the display and pulled out what looked like a cheddar soft pretzel, a small salad, and, amazingly, that candy confection I’d been eye-balling when I’d first arrived. He really did have a sense for these things.
“Sit down and eat.” He handed me the salad and the dessert item. “I’ll warm the pretzel.”
In a sort of surprised daze, I took what he offered and started walking towards a corner table. “Don’t forget your drink,” Be
rnie called and I turned around to see I had left my drink behind, beading cool perspiration down onto the pristine countertop.
“Oh... right. Thank you.” I went back and grabbed the drink, before darting towards the table, like being in the corner would make me smaller and unseeable.
A few moments later, Bernie arrived with the warmed pretzel. It smelled wonderful, all salt and cheese and doughy bread. “If you’re still hungry, you let me know.”
The ‘ping’ of the door sounded, announcing a new arrival. Bernie didn’t turn around immediately and I couldn’t see what sort of person had entered because of his large, space-filling frame. “Promise you’ll tell me if you’re still hungry?” he said, more gently.
I nodded and whispered. “Yeah, I’ll tell you.”
“Good,” he smiled, his seriousness melting away as he turned to greet the newcomer. “Silas!” he exclaimed. “Twice in one day, as I live and breathe.”
“Don’t be dramatic, Bernie. Can’t a guy get two coffees in one day?” The voice was one I almost... recognized. But that wasn’t possible. I’d not really met anyone besides Nat and her dad. When Bernie finally moved out of view, heading towards the counter, I realized why the voice was familiar.
It was one of the men from last night. Not one of them, the one. The ‘eyes locked together’ one. The main singer. The dark eyes and dark hair and scruff and shadows. I swallowed, feeling my heart begin to race just a little faster.
Not that he’d know me at all. I’d just been a patient in a dimly-lit bar. He’d probably gone write back to singing and totally forgot about me after Nat and I had left last night.
But I wasn’t sure that was at all true when he saw me now, this time standing by a coffee bar instead of one that served liquor.
And our eyes met again.
And both the hearts my body contained fluttered.
Silas.
There’s only so many times you can walk up and down main street of a town to prove that you’re not just lying in bed feeling sorry for yourself. I’d even made a point of texting my mom a selfie of me holding coffee standing near people who looked like they could possibly be with me, having a good time, laughing at something I’d said.