Forever Ours (Shattered Hearts (YA) #1)

by Trisha Leigh

  “You made this?”

  “Some guy in my English class designed the image on the front,” I reply.

  “Some guy in your English class?”

  I swallow hard when I realize he’s jealous, but this is not the right place for him to be jealous.

  “Just some guy…. Anyway, I took the design to that T-shirt shop in the mall and they put it on there. Do you like it?”

  He looks conflicted, like he wants to address the issue about the guy in English class who designed a shirt for me, but he knows he can’t do it with Jackie here. Something about this makes me want to laugh.

  “Yeah, I like it.”

  “Oh, please, Chris,” Jackie remarks. “Show a little more gratitude. I think it’s a very thoughtful gift.”

  “It is,” he adds, looking me in the eye. “I love it.”

  He puts emphasis on the word love and it makes my stomach flip.

  Chris and I stay downstairs to watch a movie while Jackie heads to bed early after a long day of cooking. We always wait at least an hour after she goes up before we let down our guards. When that hour is up, I look at Chris and he’s already staring at me from the other end of the sofa.

  “So who’s this guy in your English class?”

  I press my lips together to keep from smiling, but it’s too hard.

  “You think it’s funny?”

  “Oh, come on. It’s just some guy who sits next to me in English. I noticed him drawing some comics and asked if he could draw something for me.”

  “What did you offer him in exchange for the drawing?”

  “What do you think I offered him?”

  He’s silent as he waits for me to answer the question.

  “I offered him five bucks.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yes, that’s it. Can we change the subject now?”

  He pats the cushion next to him. “Come here.” I let out a huge sigh, then I scoot over until I’m next to him. “It drives me crazy knowing you have this whole other life at school.”

  “You have a whole other life at home. You didn’t even pick me up from school all last week because you were doing God knows what with Jake and Rachel.”

  “Doing God knows what?” he replies incredulously. “We were looking for a cheap sound studio to record a demo. We need some digital files if we’re going to book gigs.”

  “Whatever. The point is that I’m the one who should be jealous. I heard Tristan talking about taking you with him to the ice rink where he met that new girl a couple of weeks ago. I’m not stupid. I know what that means.”

  “You think I want to hang out with Tristan at a fucking ice rink?”

  “I don’t know. He’s always asking you to go places with him and he always looks annoyed when you bring me. That’s why I haven’t been going anywhere with you guys lately.”

  “Fuck Tristan. Don’t let his shitty attitude keep you from hanging out. If I ask you to come, it’s because I want you with me. And I don’t give a shit what Tristan wants.”

  “But he’s your best friend.”

  “You’re my best friend.”

  He doesn’t blink after he says this. He just waits for my reaction.

  I let out a huge sigh of relief, then I climb into his lap and rest my head on his shoulder.

  Forever Dreaming

  March, 2010

  Dreams do come true.

  I get the call from John Garrety at one in the afternoon. By two-thirty, I’ve packed the blue suitcase my mom keeps in the garage and stopped by my mom’s bakery to give her the good news.

  “Eighteen days!” she cries, slamming down a block of cold butter onto the steel workstation.

  The warm, sugary smell of the bakery always reminds me of when I was seven and my mom first bought this place. She used to bring me here after school until I was ten and I insisted I could stay home alone for a few hours after school. I’d sit at a steel table in the corner of the kitchen and do my homework while watching my mom shape bread loaves and pipe frosting onto cupcakes.

  My mom’s always been a workaholic and a bit of a perfectionist. Which is probably where I get my work ethic. I may have dropped out of school, but that’s only because I have bigger things planned for my life than sitting in a classroom and listening to someone drone on about coefficients and revolutionary wars.

  My work ethic is what got me, Tristan, and Jake our first mini-tour as the Blue Knights. John Garrety is a promoter for some local blues clubs and a couple of local indie bands. He liked our demo so much, and the fact that we’re so young, that he booked us a few shows in Florida and Tennessee. Even without a manager.

  I grab the block of butter out of my mom’s hand before she can hit me with it. “It’s just two weeks and a few days. I’ll be back before you know it.” She narrows her eyes at me. “And I’ll be with Jake and Rachel. You know they won’t let me get into trouble.”

  She shakes her head as if she can’t believe what I’m suggesting. “Eighteen days is a long time. What about Claire?”

  “What do you mean? She always takes the bus to and from school when I can’t take her.”

  She raises her eyebrows. She wasn’t referring to how Claire was going to get to and from school.

  “She’ll be fine,” I assure her.

  Her shoulders slump. “Oh, fine. But you’d better call us every morning and night.”

  “I will.” I give her a big hug and some of the powdered sugar on her apron sticks to my T-shirt. “I gotta go. I have to pick up Claire. See you later.”

  By the time I get Claire home, my stomach is wound so tight I can hardly breathe. I don’t know how I’m going to tell her that I’m leaving for eighteen days.

  She lays all her books and notes out on the kitchen table to start her homework. I grab a bottle of water out of the fridge for her and place it on the table next to her math book.

  “Thanks.” She guzzles almost half the bottle in one sip. “What did you do today?”

  “I ran around town a little. Actually, I have something I want to show you. Upstairs.”

  She scrunches her eyebrows together. “Why don’t you just bring it down here?”

  “I can’t. Can you just come up with me for a sec?”

  She shrugs and stands from the table. Then she follows me up the stairs to my bedroom. When I open the door, she sees the blue suitcase lying on my bed.

  She looks confused and her eyes immediately get watery. “Is that for me?”

  “No! Shit! I didn’t think this through. No, it’s not for you. It’s for me.”

  She clutches her chest and lets out a sigh of relief. “Jesus. You scared the shit out of me. Wait. What do you mean, it’s for you? Where are you going?”

  I turn to her and grab both her hands. “I’m going to Florida and Tennessee to do a few shows.”

  Her eyes widen. “Are you serious? Did someone pick up the demo? That’s amazing!”

  “No, no. Don’t get excited yet. It hasn’t been picked up, but it did score us a few paid gigs. That promoter I was telling you about a couple of weeks ago set it up.”

  “So you’re just going to play some shows, then you’re coming back, right?”

  I nod vigorously. “Yes, I’ll be back in eighteen days.”

  “Eighteen days!”

  I take her face in my hands and she glares at me. “Claire, it will be over before you know it. You’ll probably be glad to have some time away from me.” I kiss the corner of her mouth and she shakes her head.

  “Why? Are you going to be glad to have some time away from me?”

  I keep one hand clasped around the back of her neck as my other hand drops to her waist, then I lay a soft kiss on her lips. “I’m gonna miss the fuck out of you.”

  Her lips part as I slide my tongue into her mouth. I tease her a little, sucking on her tongue and her top lip until she lets out a soft, involuntary whimper. I move my hand up the side of her waist and over her ribs until it’s brushing up against the botto
m of her breast.

  “Chris,” she whispers into my mouth. “I … We can’t do this.”

  “Do what?”

  I kiss her jaw and the quickened sound of her breathing is getting me excited. I walk slowly backward, pulling her along with me. Then I ease her down onto the bed.

  She’s trembling.

  I tilt my head back so I can look at her face. “Are you okay?” She’s staring at my shirt, so I tilt her chin up. “Talk to me.”

  “I’m gonna miss you.”

  I brush my thumb over her cheekbone and she smiles. “I’d rather you miss me than forget me.”

  “Forget you? In eighteen days?” she replies with a chuckle.

  I swallow hard and gaze into her eyes for a moment, then I lean in to kiss her. She sucks in a sharp breath as if she’s surprised and I slide my hand under her shirt to touch her skin.

  “Chris?”

  “I want you…. I want to leave you something to think about while I’m gone.”

  She repeats my name as a soft plea, but her arms tighten around my neck as I kiss her ear.

  “I want to invade the space all around you until everywhere you look all you see is me.” I trace my tongue along the delicate curves of her ear and she sighs. “I want to occupy the space inside you until you don’t know the difference between my heartbeat and yours. I want to be your everything.”

  I slide my leg between hers and she grabs the sides of my face to push my head back.

  “How do you do that?” she asks, her hungry gaze focused on my lips.

  “What?”

  “How do you always know the right thing to say?”

  “I’ve been practicing that for days.”

  “You’re such a jerk!” She pushes me away and sits up on the bed.

  I laugh as I sit up next to her. “I was only practicing because I wanted to get it right. I meant every word.” She shakes her head as I lean in to whisper in her ear. “You’re my everything. I want to be your everything, too.”

  She turns to me and her expression is stony. “What about all the girls that are going to want to be your everything once they see you on that stage?”

  I look into her blue eyes and I can’t help but smile. “There’s no room in my heart for anyone else but you… my Claire-bear.”

  She rolls her eyes. “There’s no room in your heart, but is there any room left in your pants?”

  “Not right now.” She glares at me and I laugh as she tries not to look at my crotch. “Sorry, but you asked.”

  She shakes her head and stands from the bed. I stand up after her and she stares at the blue suitcase where it lies on the foot of the bed.

  “I’m happy for you,” she says, though she doesn’t look happy at all.

  “For us,” I say, grabbing her hand. “Be happy for us. This is just the first step.”

  “The first step away from me.”

  “We’ll always be together. Even when we’re apart. You know it’s true.”

  This elicits a faint smile. “Don’t forget me.”

  “Forget you? In eighteen days?” Her smile widens, so I take her into my arms and kiss her forehead. “It would take at least nineteen days for me to forget you.”

  Forever Alone

  The worst part of the last eighteen days has been spending my entire Spring vacation alone. Jackie took a day off from the bakery during my week off. She made appointments for us to get manicures and pedicures, but I only went so she wouldn’t feel bad. I don’t want a mani-pedi. I want Chris.

  I feel so stupid admitting that, but it’s true. I miss him so much. Even now, as I sit in my English class, he’s all I can think of. He’s supposed to be back tonight around eleven p.m. or later. I don’t care how late he gets home, I’m staying up.

  Mrs. Ainsley writes the page numbers of the homework on the whiteboard and I quickly jot it down in the upper right-hand corner of my notebook. Then I slam the notebook shut so I can start packing my backpack. But the moment I twist in my chair to reach for my bag, someone taps my shoulder.

  I look up and the sight of Chris’s face takes my breath away. “Oh, my God.”

  “Hey,” he says softly, and the sound of his voice, not heard through the static of a cell phone, makes me tear up.

  I shoot out of my chair and throw my arms around his neck. “I missed you so much,” I say, my voice muffled by the hood of his sweater as I bury my face in the crook of his neck.

  He lifts me off the floor and hugs me so tight I can’t breathe. “I missed you so much more than that. Next time, you’re coming with me.”

  “Get a room!” someone shouts from behind me and I don’t care.

  I don’t care what anyone thinks or says. All I care is that I have Chris back. His smell, his touch, his voice, his arms. He’s back.

  He walks me to my locker to get the rest of my books, greeting a few people who’ve missed him since he dropped out. Then we hop on his bike and I hold on tight as we ride home.

  Home.

  It’s not home without Chris.

  As soon as we get to the house, we fall onto the sofa, a tangle of arms and legs. Kissing, hugging, touching, breathing each other in.

  “I’ve missed your lips,” he murmurs.

  And for the first time, I find myself wrapping my legs around his hips. He grinds his pelvis into mine and I moan when I feel the hot friction between my legs. Holding his face, I kiss him deeply. Hoping that he can feel just how much I missed him.

  Then I feel it. Just how much he’s missed me.

  He grows solidly beneath his jeans and my heart races. “Chris?”

  “I want you so bad.” He reaches for the button on my jeans and I grab his hand to stop him.

  “Wait.”

  “Why?”

  He looks down at me, confused by my words. I shake my head and he lets out a soft sigh as he sits up. He knows I want to wait until I’m eighteen. It’s an irrational self-imposed rule, but I promised myself I wouldn’t have sex until I’m eighteen. Even if we’re careful, I don’t want to end up like my mom, saddled with a kid when I’m just seventeen. Chris knows about my rule. And as I sit up, he winks at me. A small gesture to show he respects it.

  “I can wait to have sex with you. But can we do something else? You can leave all your clothes on.”

  I glare at him because this sounds dubious. “Do what?”

  He leans over and whispers it in my ear, though there’s no one else around to hear him.

  “You want to lick my tongue?” I say out loud. “Isn’t that the same as kissing?”

  “I guess we’ll find out.”

  I roll my eyes. “Fine. Just get it over with.”

  “Don’t move. Close your eyes and stick your tongue out.”

  A smile curls the corners of my lips as I let my jaw drop open just enough to stick out my tongue.

  “Remember: You can’t move, even if you get the urge to touch me. You have to stay still.”

  I roll my eyes. “Oh, just do it already.”

  “Okay, stick your tongue out,” he whispers so softly it sends a shiver over my skin.

  His voice is closer. I can’t see anything, but I can feel his breath on the tip of my nose. I stick my tongue out again, a little farther this time, my heart racing as I anticipate the moment of contact. Then I feel it. The tip of his tongue is wet and firm on the tip of mine. Every inch of my skin throbs as he slowly traces his tongue over mine from the tip to the center. As if his tongue is touching places I’ve never been touched.

  I push him away as I attempt to catch my breath.

  “How did that feel?” he asks eagerly.

  “Where did you learn that? Were you with someone else while you were gone?”

  “What? No! Of course not. I saw it in a movie.”

  “You went to the movies?”

  “It was a movie we saw in the hotel.”

  “What kind of movies were you guys watching?”

  “It was just some teen movie from the 80s. I c
an’t remember the name.”

  The throbbing between my legs slowly dies down, but I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to have him touch me there. Or lick me. Oh, God. I’m such a perv.

  “I have to…to go.” I say, shakily getting to my feet.

  “Where?” he says, standing up after me.

  “To the bathroom.”

  He smiles then licks his lips. “Hurry up. I want to taste you again.”

  Forever Jealous

  April, 2011

  When I pull my motorcycle next to the curb in front of my old high school, the last thing I expect to see is Claire rolling around on the grass with another guy. I feel as if my insides might explode with rage as I watch them untangle themselves from each other and scramble to their feet. He brushes some grass off her back and she laughs and they both reach for something on the grass at the same time. A piece of paper.

  Claire takes the paper from his hand and gazes at it for a moment with a huge grin on her face. Then she appears to thank him and he nods bashfully. She turns around and her eyes widen when she spots me.

  She snatches her backpack off the grass and jogs toward me. My heart is pounding as a million thoughts race through my mind. But the most prominent thought is how naive I was. I never thought Claire was the type to even flirt with other guys. And here she is rolling around on the fucking grass.

  “What the fuck?” The words come out of my mouth before I can stop them.

  “What’s wrong?” she asks innocently as she stuffs the piece of paper into her backpack.

  She slides her arms through the straps then waits for me to answer her question, or at least get off the bike so we can unlock her helmet.

  “What the fuck was that?”

  I nod toward the grassy area where she came from.

  She glances over her shoulder then turns back to me. “That was just Jason. He gave me a stupid drawing of Sailor Moon ‘cause he saw the sticker on my notebook. Can you get off the bike so I can get the helmet?”