Hurt Like HELL (new adult contemporary romance)
Page 18
It was younger man, maybe my age, walking towards the counter with his hands in his pockets, his lips puckered as he whistled random notes. He looked around the cafe, admiring all the stuff that didn’t match. Thorns collected junk - absurd colors and shapes - but it all worked together to fit the vibe.
He came to the counter, standing sideways.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
“Yeah. You looking for bands?”
“Always,” I said.
“Good. I play some guitar, not very well.”
His voice was smooth, and it sounded good. It eased me, as strange as it sounded. From the side he had a familiar look, but it wasn’t Jack. That much I knew for sure.
“If you give me your number, I can have the owner call you,” I said. “He’s always looking for bands.”
“Sounds good.”
There was a pause, leaving me hanging, staring at his features. He smiled, for whatever reason, and I noticed his dimples. Cute, yes, but they weren’t as defined as Jack’s.
Too bad.
“Do you want a coffee or something?” I offered.
“Are you asking me on a date?”
“No, it’s my job to offer you coffee.”
“Damn. I sort of wanted a date.”
I opened my mouth as he turned. Looking at him from the front, everything around me stopped. His features were like Jack’s but it was his eyes… Jack’s eyes…
He smiled again, knowing exactly what I was figuring out.
I shook my head, the lump in my throat rushing up.
“We never had a date, did we Tessa?”
I gasped and then cried out.
How was this possible?
“It can’t be…”
He put his hand to the counter, palm up, open. I looked at it and then placed my hand to his hand. It was warm, and real.
“I’m thinking of moving here,” he said. “Living here forever. Is this a good place to live?”
I nodded, slowly, waiting to wake up from the dream I must have been having.
The man in front of me was beautiful. The features were close, so very close, and his eyes were so perfect, so deep, so… Jack.
“Jack,” I said.
“No,” he said. He leaned forward. “Call me Danny… Danny Thursday.”
Danny Thursday.
The name Jack made up ten years ago in my basement. The name he was going to use when he turned eighteen so we could run away together, forever. We were going to make up stories of our past and create our future.
That meant I was supposed to be…
“Abby Wednesday,” I whispered.
A tear ran down my cheek and I clutched Danny’s hand as tight as I could.
“You’re really here… again…”
“Here and real.” He paused then added, “and in love.”
“How?”
I let his hand go and ran around the counter.
He met me at the end of counter and I dove into his arms. He squeezed me and I squeezed him. He smelled of Jack, he felt like Jack, and he was Jack. Just a different kind.
We finally had our dream… Abby Wednesday and Danny Thursday.
Our future was our destiny, and we could write it together.
I looked at him and kissed him, tasting his lips, his tongue. It was the greatest kiss of my life, the kiss of believing in true love and never stopping.
Danny’s hands touched me in the right places, his right hand a little frisky for being in public. I put my feet back on the ground and broke our embrace. I grabbed his shirt and lifted it up, my mouth watering at the sight of his perfect muscles. I turned him around, listening to him laugh.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“The scars…”
They were healed and faded, but not completely gone. They never would be, and that was okay.
He turned back to me and we embraced again. He put his forehead down to mine. Slowly we started to step, slow dancing to no music. All we had was each other and our life… together, wherever it took us.
London Casey writes and dreams of writing more. When not writing, London reads, attempts to blog, but somehow manages to end up writing again.
www.londoncasey.wordpress.com
@london_casey
http://www.facebook.com/pages/LondonCasey/434500699963823
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
First electronic edition February 2013
Copyright © 2013 by London Casey
Published by Hundred to Home Publishing
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part of any form.