Hard Rock Kiss

by Athena Wright

  I could imagine a smaller, younger Nathan standing on a stool to reach the counter, lips pursed and brows drawn down as he concentrated hard on chopping vegetables, stirring pots, and checking the oven. I wondered how young he would have been when he first started taking care of her. There hadn't been anyone else around to help. It had just been him.

  My heart ached for Nathan, the beginnings of tears pricking the back of my eyes. I blinked them away before he could see and turned a sunny smile on him.

  "Maybe you could teach me?" I asked.

  "I don't know how good of a teacher I'd be," he said, "but we could give it a go. Maybe let's stick to toast and peanut butter for now, though?"

  "Got any jam, instead?" I asked hopefully. "I got sick of eating peanut butter after forcing it down for so long to fatten myself up."

  He kissed the top of my head. "I've got three different kinds."

  After making the toast and spreading our respective condiments, we sat at the island counter, munching away. We didn't talk much, just exchanged besotted looks and played footsies. We were being so cute it was almost sickening, and I enjoyed every minute of it.

  "What are your plans for the day?" Nathan asked.

  "I've got a volunteer shift later this afternoon, but my morning is free."

  "I've got to go into the studio after lunch, but I'm free until then if you want to hang."

  "And by hang, do you mean more sexy times?"

  He lips curved into a wicked smile as his toe slid its way up from my foot and up my leg.

  "Oh shit," I cursed as a sudden thought occurred to me. "I need to make sure my parents aren't looking for me. They probably think I'm still asleep, but if they knocked on the apartment door and I didn't answer, they might freak."

  A worried look crossed Nathan's face. I hurried to the living room where I'd dropped my purse at the front door and pulled out my phone. I breathed a sigh of relief.

  "No messages," I said. "If they were really worried, they would have tried calling or texting."

  His worried look didn't fade.

  "I hate the idea that we're sneaking around," he said.

  I went over to where he was perched on the bar stool. This time it was my turn to press a kiss to his head.

  "I'll tell them today," I promised.

  He nodded, the line in his forehead smoothing. He quirked an eyebrow. "So. Sexy times?"

  "Actually…" I wondered whether to ask, but decided there wasn't any harm. He could always say no. "I was wondering if you could show me your music room? I wasn't snooping," I hurried to say. "The door was open and I saw guitars and music sheets. Is that where you write your songs?"

  He lowered his eyes, looking embarrassed. "Yeah. That's where I write my solo stuff. I don't want to be doing it in the recording studio yet. I'm not ready to show everyone."

  "Will you show me?"

  He hesitated. "You really want to hear my shit?"

  "I'd love to hear your, as you call it, shit." I gave him a smile. "Although I'm positive it won't be."

  He hopped from the stool. "You have such faith in me."

  "How about this," I said. "I'll be totally honest with you. If it sucks, I'll say so. If I say it's amazing, you have to believe me. Deal?"

  He looked nonplussed, but nodded. "Deal."

  I followed him to the music room. He sat me on the sofa, grabbed an acoustic guitar, the same one I'd plucked at, and took a seat next to me.

  He didn't say anything before starting to play, not explaining anything about the song beforehand. He just began to strum.

  There were no words, just a soft hummed melody. As he played, I concentrated hard on the notes, really listening.

  I didn't know much about the technical side of music, but I knew what music could make me feel. And this song made me feel so much. It was almost sad, filling me with a sense of melancholy, but it was somehow uplifting at the same time. By the end, there was an almost hopeful feel to the music. Just like in the kitchen, when I'd imagine a baby-faced Nathan cooking for his mom, tears stung my eyes.

  It was in that moment I knew for sure.

  I'd fallen for Nathan Walker.

  And I couldn't even bring myself to worry about it.

  He finished, laying his hands flat against the body of the guitar. He looked at me expectantly.

  "So?" he asked easily, although I could see the nervous glint in his eyes.

  "I loved it," I said, my voice thick with emotion.

  He looked surprised. "You're not just saying that to stroke my ego?"

  "Your ego doesn't need stroking. It was really good. You should play it for your band members."

  "Maybe," he said doubtfully.

  "Definitely," I countered. "In fact, I'll be upset if this song isn't on the next Cherry Lips album. And you wouldn't want to upset me, would you?"

  He chuckled and shook his head. "The songs for the next album have already been chosen. But maybe I could do a single solo release or something."

  "I'll be the first in line to buy it," I told him.

  "I thought you weren't a fan?" he teased.

  "I've come to appreciate your many talents."

  Nathan shifted closer on the sofa, until we were face to face.

  "All my talents?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

  "Certain ones more than others," I acknowledged. I fisted my fingers in the fabric of his shirt, tugging him to me. "In fact, maybe you could show off some more?"

  He leaned closer, bringing his mouth close to mine. "I thought you hated my big ego?"

  "It's not ego if it's true," I murmured, echoing some of the very first words he'd ever said to me. "Maybe you should prove yourself to me."

  Nathan's only response was to push me back into the sofa cushions and give me a thorough demonstration of his skills.

  22

  When I got home, I had to sneak around the side of the house to go through the basement apartment front door. I changed out of the previous day's outfit and into a fresh pair of jeans and a volunteer shirt. I put my dirty clothes in the hamper. It was full, so I decided to start a load of laundry. While the washer spun up I did a bit of tidying around the living room, not wanting to leave the mess any longer.

  It was when I started cleaning out my closet that I realized I was just stalling.

  I was dreading talking to my parents. But I'd promised Nathan.

  Steeling myself, I went up the stairs to the main floor, pausing on the last step. Maybe they weren't even home. Maybe Mom was out shopping for groceries. Maybe Dad was working overtime at the office. Maybe I could avoid having this conversation for one more day.

  But when I opened the door, I saw my mom sitting at the kitchen table, playing a mobile game on her phone. She looked up to greet me with a beaming smile. So she hadn't realized I'd been gone all night. That was a plus.

  "Hi, honey," she said. "Did you have a good sleep?"

  "Hey, Mom," I replied. "Yeah, I had a restful night. Um. Where's Dad?"

  "He's out picking up some milk." Her lips pressed into a firm line. "He forgot to do it last night, so we couldn't have breakfast this morning." The words were accusatory, not aimed at me, but aimed at my dad's absent presence.

  So they'd already gotten into it this morning. Wonderful.

  "When do you think he'll be back?" I asked.

  "He just left," she said. "Why?"

  Would it be easier to tell them one at a time and halve the outrage I might face? Or would it be better to tell them both at the same time and get it over with, like ripping off a Band-Aid?

  I hated that Nathan had been made to feel bad about our relationship. I didn't want to put this off any longer.

  "I have something to tell you," I said.

  My mom sat up in alarm. "What is it? Are you feeling okay? Is something wrong? Did something happen?"

  "No, Mom, I'm fine," I said. "I just need to talk to you about something."

  The anxiety didn't leave her face. She pushed her hair back, tucking it
behind her ears. She always did that when she was bracing herself for bad news.

  I didn't think this was bad news. It should have been wonderful news. I'd found someone who cared about me. But maybe she wouldn't see it that way.

  I took a seat across from her at the kitchen table.

  "You can tell me anything, honey." I knew she was trying to be reassuring, but the words came out fearful and desperate.

  I didn't want to leave her worrying for too long. It would only make things harder. I wished this wasn't such a big deal. For any other person, this conversation wouldn't be. But I wasn't any other person and my mom wasn't a regular mom.

  I inhaled deeply, steadying myself. Best to get it over with.

  "I'm seeing someone," I told her.

  The expression on her face froze. I waited for some sort of emotion to reappear. Shock or surprise or worry. Something.

  "I see," was all she said, her voice tight and robotic. A strand of hair fell from behind her ear, falling against her cheek. She didn't bother to push it back.

  "He's a really great guy," I said.

  "And where exactly did you meet this great guy?"

  She was wondering because I so rarely went out. I worked and volunteered and came home. Did she think I'd picked him up at a club or something?

  Well, that wasn't totally far from the truth.

  "We met at the hospital," I told her.

  "Is this the same boy who invited you to that author signing?" she asked, still devoid of emotion.

  I'd almost forgotten the lie I'd told her. I told so many, it was hard to keep track. Nathan was probably right, I should be more honest with my parents.

  At least this was a good start.

  I hoped.

  "Yes, that's him," I replied. "He was visiting someone and we got to talking."

  "I see," she repeated, as if those were the only words she could bring herself to say.

  "I really like him," I said. "And he likes me."

  "Does he know?" she asked.

  "About my heart defect? Yes, I told him. He was worried, obviously, but he took it very well."

  She shook her head. "Not just about your condition. Does he know everything? Does he understand?"

  I hesitated.

  I'd told Nathan a lot. He understood what I'd gone through. He understood how hard it had been for me.

  But I hadn't told him everything.

  He didn't know what my parents had gone through. He didn't know my mom had to quit her job to take care of me. He didn't know my dad used every spare moment to research everything he could about my heart problem. Nathan didn't realize they had spent every minute of my childhood wondering if my heart would stop in my chest, wondering if today was the day their little girl would die. He didn't realize what they'd given up for me.

  He didn't realize the burden I'd placed on my loved ones.

  I still hadn't answered my mom.

  "I don't think you seeing this boy is a good idea," my mom said.

  "Mom…"

  I had known she wouldn't take it well.

  "Don't you remember what happened the last time?" she said. "We didn't think that boy was right for you, and look what he did."

  "I know."

  "He left you the instant he realized how hard it was going to be for him if he was with you."

  "I know!" I cried. "Nathan's not like that. I'm sure he would understand. His mom—"

  "Does he realize he might have to drop everything at a moment's notice if something goes wrong?" she continued. "Does he realize how it might impact his job, his life?"

  I forced down the outburst waiting to explode from my mouth.

  "Even if he says he likes you now, he's going to leave you eventually," my mom said matter-of-factly. "He's going to hurt you."

  Exactly what Jessie had warned me about.

  "You don't know that," I replied, but my voice wavered.

  "You're special, Becca," my mom said. "You need a lot of care."

  "I'm better now."

  "For now."

  Those two words I hated hearing.

  "You need to be careful," she said. "You need to watch out for yourself."

  "You think I don't know that?"

  "The last thing your father and I want is for you to get hurt."

  "I'm not a little kid anymore," I told her. "I can make my own decisions."

  "You're still living under our roof."

  "Because you won't let me leave!"

  "I don't want you seeing this boy," she said, firm and resolute.

  Anger began to simmer in my chest.

  "You don't get to decide how I live my life," I told her.

  "Yes, I do. I'm your mother," she said, voice raising to a higher pitch.

  "You don't get to use that excuse. I'm not a little girl. I'm not made of glass. I'm an adult."

  She narrowed her eyes at me, face turning red.

  "Adults don't make rash and stupid decisions like this," she said.

  I couldn't hold in it in anymore.

  "Wanting to date someone isn't stupid!" I burst out.

  "You're not like everyone else, Becca," she said, slamming her palms against the table, making it shake. "You can't just do whatever the hell you want!"

  I pushed back in my chair, screeching it against the tiled floor, and stormed over to my apartment door.

  "Watch me."

  23

  "So how did it go?" Nathan asked, briefly taking his eyes off the road to look at me, concerned.

  "Not well."

  It had been days since the fight with my mom. I studiously avoided all contact with her, only going in and out through the basement apartment door, ignoring her knocks when she tried to talk to me, and refusing to respond to her text messages.

  Maybe it was immature of me, but I didn't need to sit around and listen to another lecture about how I didn't know what was best for me. It was my life. I was going to live it the way I wanted.

  "What did she say?" Nathan asked.

  I didn't want to give him all the details, but I could at least let him know his "be truthful with them" idea had not gone exactly as planned.

  "She pulled the mom card, told me what I can and cannot do and basically made me feel like a child again."

  He reached over the gearstick and took my hand.

  "Sorry," he said. "I guess, since I always tell my mom everything, I thought it would go better. I don't keep a lot of things from her."

  "It sounds nice, to have a mom you can confide in like that."

  "I'm sorry you don't."

  "I can for some things," I told him. "But when it comes to anything related to my well-being, she goes a little nuts."

  "I can understand that," he said.

  "I think she's exceptionally touchy when it comes to guys," I said. "When my previous boyfriend dumped me, I think it hurt her as much as me. She'd let someone into our family, in a way. Trusted them to care for me. And he betrayed that. I think it gave her more of a complex than it did me. She's worried you're going to leave me when…"

  I didn't want to finish the sentence. I didn't want Nathan to know I was worried about it, too.

  How would he react, when he realized exactly how hard it was to be close to someone like me? Nathan hadn't had to deal with any doctor's appointments or surgeries yet. The closest he'd come was when I'd had that panic attack after zorbing. He'd been wonderful and caring back then, but it was such a minor event. Who knew what would happen if he had to watch me go through something worse?

  "When what?" Nathan asked. "What is she worried about?"

  "Oh, the usual," I said. "She's worried about a boy breaking my heart and hurting me. The same as any other parent, I suppose."

  His brows drew down into a frown. "I'd never hurt you."

  I rubbed my hand along his shoulder reassuringly.

  "I know you wouldn't."

  I'd been worried, before, but now that I was sure of Nathan's intentions, my fears had faded. I didn't know exactly
what the future held in store for us, but I knew he was telling the truth. He'd never intentionally do anything to hurt me. He cared about me.

  "Have you been avoiding your parents this whole time?" he asked. "You can always stay at my place if you need to."

  "Thank you," I said without taking him up on the offer. It was sweet of him, but I didn't want to invade his space like that. Not so soon in our relationship.

  My phone buzzed. I grabbed it from my purse. Another text.

  Rebecca Miller, we need to talk.

  "Guess I really am in trouble," I said. "She only uses my full name when she's pissed."

  "Do you want me to introduce myself to her? Try to show her I'm—"

  "Good god, no!" I interrupted. "No. It's best if you don't meet them. Not yet."

  "Wow. That's an intense reaction." His lips twitched into a small smile. "Am I really that disturbing to parents?"

  "Maybe not to other parents. But to mine? Even a saint wouldn't be good enough in their eyes." I sighed and thumped my head back against the seat. "Let's give them some time to get used to the idea before flaunting a tattooed rocker in their face."

  "Sounds fair." Nathan turned the wheel and pulled into a parking lot of a large, industrial-looking building. "Here we are."

  "This is it?"

  I had decided to take Nathan up on his offer to go indoor-skydiving. From what I'd seen on video clips from the internet, you essentially threw yourself down into a giant wind tunnel and rode the air currents, simulating free-fall. It looked invigorating. It looked terrifying.

  It was exactly what I needed right now to forget about my problems.

  When we went inside, I headed over to the counter to line up for tickets. Nathan stopped me.

  "I've got them already," he said. "We can walk right in."

  I smiled up at him. "You always think of everything."

  How I ever thought this man was irresponsible, I had no idea.

  But as it turned out, we couldn't walk right in. There were multiple steps before we were able to jump down the hole. First we needed to watch a video presentation where they explained the science behind the wind machine that would keep us from falling to our gruesome deaths. After that we needed to go through orientation, where they gave us hands on training on exactly what to do, how to jump and how to maneuver in the tunnel.