Finding the Dream (For the Love of Music #1.5)

by Mia Josephs

  Chuck immediately obliged, bumping her into two tables before beginning the awkward movements again. The song was over too soon and Sierra turned to see Donovan’s eyes on her.

  Her breath caught but he broke eye contact, picking up his bottle and taking another drink before beginning another song.

  Sierra let her arms fall off of Chuck, and sat at their table. Across from Alyson. Now she didn’t know what to do. It was like she shouldn't watch Donovan too closely, but he was the guy onstage singing. But she didn’t know what to say to Alyson, and Chuck moved to the bar to get another drink.

  Tapping her fingers on the worn table, her gaze floated around the room when she really just wanted to watch Van play.

  “You enjoying it here?” Alyson asked, but Sierra got the distinct impression she was just trying to be polite.

  “Yeah.” There was probably something Sierra should ask her back, but her mind went blank and she rubbed her lips together, clasped her hands in her lap, and tried to watch Donovan without seeming too interested.

  Finally he set the guitar down, moved their way, and then paused, his eyes darting toward Alyson.

  Sierra’s shoulders sagged because of course he’d be trying to patch things up with Alyson.

  Chuck shook his head as he sat next to Sierra again. “He is such a glutton for punishment,” he whispered.

  “What does that mean?” Sierra asked.

  Chuck gestured with his head toward the back door and Sierra stood about the same time that Donovan sat. Next to Alyson.

  Sierra followed Chuck to the designated smoking area outside.

  “So?” she pressed.

  “With his background and everything. He’s the only guy I know who dates and is actually looking for the girl he wants to marry. I think he knows it’s not quite right almost right away, but holds out for a while to make sure.” Chuck lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. “Nobody our age is thinking about that shit. I mean, nobody.”

  “Are you trying to tell me he sleeps around?” she asked.

  Chuck waved between them. “No, no… But it’s like, he’ll come to me and say—I don’t think she’s the one. I wonder how long it’ll take us to fade out. Or sometimes, if he really knows, he doesn’t last past a few dates.”

  “Is that not normal?” she asked.

  Chuck coughed a few times. “No. If I’m with a girl, and she still wants to have sex with me, I’m not going anywhere.”

  Sierra felt her cheeks heat up.

  “A guy like Donovan, with asshole parents like—”

  “Wait.” Sierra held a hand between them. “What about his parents?”

  All Sierra knew of Donovan’s parents was that they’d died when his house burned down. That’s how he’d ended up with her family.

  Chuck glanced at her. Glanced at the ground. Glanced at her. Let out a sigh. “Ask him sometime.”

  Sierra frowned, wondering how much of Donovan’s life she’d seen through naïve kids’ eyes.

  “Donovan doesn’t care if a woman still wants to sleep with him if he knows she isn’t the one.” Chuck continued as if he’d never said anything about Van’s parents. “I think he wasn’t sure with Alyson, and she seemed really into him, so when she said something about a break he was really thrown. He reads people pretty well, and he’d read her wrong.” Chuck took another long drag. “The thing is, it’s given him a reputation for moving through girls that he really doesn’t deserve. He just doesn’t waste time.”

  “Alyson’s beautiful,” Sierra mused, her mind still fighting to remember any kind of details about Donovan that would lead her to believe what Chuck had just said about his parents.

  “She thinks so.” Chuck snorted.

  “Why doesn’t he play anymore? I mean, he played well but…” Something was lacking when he’d been on stage. Something almost indefinable.

  Chuck let out a long breath. “Life happens. Jobs happen. Growing up happens. Believe me, I’m pissed about it, because of all the guys with guitars in college, he was one who might have actually made it.”

  Donovan had practically been dragged into owning a store with her brother, and now he didn’t have time to play. Donovan had never gone anywhere without his guitar. The idea that he’d given up on that didn’t feel possible.

  “I think we’ve let them be comfortable in whatever conversation they’re having for long enough. Let’s go add to the awkward, shall we?”

  She wasn’t sure if they should or shouldn’t, but Chuck had dumped his cigarette and placed a hand on her lower back, guiding her back into the bar.

  They rounded the corner just in time to see Alyson get up and walk away, leaving Donovan slouched in his chair, head tipped back, drinking another beer.

  “How often does he drink like this?” she asked. He’d had four or five since she arrived at the bar a very short time ago.

  Chuck shook his head. “Not often. Most nights we come here are two beer nights. Sometimes three. I think he’s on number five. Or six.”

  “Oh.” What was she supposed to make of that? Did it mean good things? Bad things? Guys and bars and drinks were totally out of her realm of knowledge.

  “Maybe,” Donovan started as they sat. “Maybe you can help me with this problem, Sierra.”

  Chuck shook his head. “You don’t have to answer. I can tell that Donovan’s about to wax philosophical and has probably already made up his mind about something and just wants you to confirm it. He’s also drunk.”

  “Nah.” Donovan shook his head, his eyes seeming somehow slightly larger than normal. “What do girls want, Sierra? I mean, really. What do they want from guys? Because I feel like I'm doing all the right things, and then I’m told we should break, and now I’m being told I’m a jerk for allowing the break… But I know we’re not going anywhere. She should know it too. So what do girls want?”

  Sierra had known the answer to this forever, since she first thought about boys and being in love. Donovan had always been so tied to that. The answer was meant for him anyway. Or what she wanted from him. And if not from him, maybe someone else. It didn’t matter. The basics were the same.

  “Girls want to fall in love. Really fall. Like they’re flying and tumbling, and then they want the guy to catch them at the bottom and for the world to feel more right than it ever has because they’ve found their match.”

  “Well, I sure as hell don’t know how to do that.”

  Sierra smiled. “You might be surprised.”

  Van paused, letting himself watch her when he shouldn’t. “Oh, yeah?”

  She nodded and something about the sureness in her eyes, or the way she smiled at him, or how nothing else in the room mattered…

  His fingers trembled with wanting to touch her. As he watched her, Sierra’s smile widened enough to fill any emptiness he hadn’t masked with the beer.

  It was as if everything in him moved toward this amazing girl, and in that second, he wasn’t sure if he could or even wanted to shift it back. She would definitely fill some of the holes left by the lack of music. Even now he was afraid to really throw himself into a song, worried that it would feel like too much had been taken from him.

  His life was full. Happy. Busy. That’s what he told himself every day.

  Then she pinched his side, a sign that she was still firmly in a friend place with him. “Okay. You ready to head home?”

  “Anywhere.” He let himself smile softly wondering what on earth he was going to do with the new feelings for the woman smiling next to him.

  Chuck stood and clapped Donovan on the back. “Don’t be stupid,” he said in his friend’s ear.

  “This is you, telling me?” Donovan teased. “We’re fine. Sierra’s gonna walk me home.”

  “I got it.” Sierra stepped next to Donovan and they walked out together.

  Chuck’s night was probably just beginning.

  “Why are we walking the two miles home?” Sierra asked as they moved through the cool night air.

 
Donovan concentrated on placing one foot in front of the other on the smooth sidewalk. “This is my hangover cure.”

  “Walking?” she asked.

  He pointed at a small sidewalk trail. “Nicer to cut through this neighborhood.”

  Sierra followed and the ground lurched toward him. Donovan threw a foot forward and stopped for a moment as the world grew steady again.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  Donovan slowly stood up, keeping his arms out for balance. “All good.”

  They broke out of the trail between the houses into the small neighborhood that sat between their apartment and downtown.

  “I love this spot,” she said quietly.

  Donovan stepped forward, the ground lurching away from him, Sierra’s hands on his arms, helping to steady him. “This isn’t me…” Donovan took in a breath wishing he could take back the last two beers. Or maybe the last three. Or four. “Weird night. This is not a smart way to deal with feeling weird.”

  “Feeling weird?” she asked.

  Her brown eyes were so soft. Her skin looked so soft. Her hair. Soft. Her curves. Soft. He leaned toward her to see her eyes better. The ridges and colors in her irises. His eyes started to fall closed. When he was this close to a girl, it meant they were going to kiss.

  But wait.

  He let out a laugh that felt strangled and awkward before opening his eyes.

  Not. Going. There. Time to pretend to be big brother again. Whatever he felt had to do with the newness of her. Nothing else.

  “I’m being a terrible big brother example.” He started up the street. “Learn from my mistakes young padowan. Don’t drink so much.”

  Sierra’s sigh seemed to echo in his ears. He had no idea what it meant, and he was in no state to decipher anything ‘girl’ speak.

  “Okay. Now that you’ve broken out the Star Wars references, I think we for sure need to get you home.”

  His arm was raised, and Sierra tucked herself underneath it and started walking more quickly.

  It wasn’t a close kind of arm hold. It was an impatient one. A mother-like one. Maybe even disappointed.

  Getting hammered once in a while was no big deal. None. Getting hammered in front of your best friend’s sister after she snuck into a bar…? That felt a little different.

  Donovan just wanted his bed, and some Advil, and sleep. Lots and lots of sleep.

  Nine

  Sierra walked home from campus the day after the bar, and had no idea if their night together had moved things forward, or pushed them back. Chuck seemed nice enough, and at least he was a truth-teller, so if she got desperate for information, she might be able to go to him.

  Instead of walking straight home, she once again cut through the small neighborhood of older homes. Homes with character. She imagined small families and worn, wooden floors. Rattling radiators. The evenly spaced trees on the sidewalk swayed in the breeze, and miniature raindrops occasionally tapped her face.

  She stopped next to the tree where she was sure Donovan was going to kiss her the night before. Sure of it. And then…he laughed. Letting out a sigh, she sat on a simple cement bench, resting her elbows on her knees.

  A school bus stopped at the end of the street and she paused to watch a couple moms greet their kids as they jumped off the bus. The very simple scene pulsed warmth through her chest as she remembered her mom doing the same. Had Donovan had that? Or was his childhood so different from hers that he never felt that same kind of love? Chuck’s words of Donovan having asshole parents kept re-playing itself. How much about Donovan didn’t she know?

  All the over-thinking and maneuvering had gotten old. Maybe she just needed a normal night at home.

  It all slammed into her in a rush. She had about twenty different popcorn recipes. She could do them all! Or, well, some of them. Pick a few movies from Netflix and make it a night. No trying to look hot. Or get Van’s attention. Just popcorn and movie like a million nights at her parents’ house—only it would be a great blog post comparing recipes.

  Hey twitterverse, prepare for awesomeness in the form of #popcorn that’s right. Like you’ve never seen it before… #StayTuned

  Her phone vibrated in a text.

  Dad: Just checking in

  She rolled her eyes.

  Sierra: Still breathing. Running home from class. Busy with homework tonight ;-)

  Hopefully that would be it, sometimes her dad really got on a roll.

  Just to be a polite roommate, she sent Van a text.

  Sierra: I’m not cooking dinner tonight but will be making a bunch of popcorn recipes. I’d love a taster.

  That was all. It would always be better to have more than one person giving feedback on recipes.

  Donovan: If you pick the snack, that means I pick the movie

  Damn. Sierra laughed. It had been family house rules since she could remember. The problem was that she always wanted the pick the snack, so she never got to pick the movie.

  Fine She texted back with a grin.

  Her phone vibrated again, and she sagged a little when it was her dad.

  Dad: Find some time to call your old man would you?

  Sierra: Busy tonight. Tomorrow?

  Dad: *insert eye roll – that’s how it’s done, right? Fine. Tomorrow.

  She started to type him back, but she wasn’t ready to get dragged into another conversation. Sierra had a popcorn and movie night to plan.

  “I brought an extra mouth!” Donovan said as he and Chuck came in through the front door. It had a lot more to do with Chuck accusing Donovan of keeping Sierra (and her cooking) hidden than anything else. Chuck might see through whatever weirdness might be passing between them, but he was still a buffer after their almost-kiss the night before.

  “Holy shit it smells fantastic in here!” Chuck was practically drooling before the front door had closed. “And the room is all,”—he gestured wildly with his hands—“rearranged.”

  Maybe bringing a friend hadn’t been a good idea. Who knows what Chuck would make of Sierra’s relaxed cheerfulness. And what would she be wearing? Her tiny shorts had given him more than one near aneurism, and he was pretty sure he’d lose it if Chuck stared at her the way he knew he had been. Fair or not, it was still how he felt.

  Sierra stepped toward the counter with two large bowls, one in front of each breast (he cringed for noticing) and set them on the counter.

  Thankfully she had on baggy striped pajama pants. Donovan rested against the counter in relief that he wouldn’t be trying not to stare at her legs with Chuck in the room.

  “So, I wasn’t aware that popcorn had recipes,” Donovan said.

  “Me either.” Chuck reached into one of the bowls and shoved a fistful into his mouth.

  Sierra snapped a picture and Chuck flinched. “Hey!” He laughed. “I would have worn my pretty dress and spent more time on my hair if I’d known there would be pictures involved.”

  Her laugh filled the room and she moved around the two guys into the living room setting two more bowls onto the coffee table.

  Wait.

  “I don't have a coffee table,” Donovan said.

  Sierra smirked. “Found it at a thrift shop. I’m going to refinish it this weekend as a blog project.” She turned one side of the coffee table. “It’s actually two tables, see?”

  Chuck was moaning as he chewed on the popcorn. “This is amazing. I laughed the whole way here about popcorn recipes. I was such an asshole. I’m sorry.”

  Sierra laughed, her face contorted in confusion. “Whatever, Chuck.”

  “Popcorn for dinner.” He grinned and grasped the bowl with two hands. “Even if it tastes like chocolate and caramel.”

  “If you want dinner, there’s left over roast. I have some tricks to heat it up, so it won’t dry out.” She passed them again as she moved back into the kitchen.

  Donovan sighed, knowing that Chuck was going to love every second of being waited on by Sierra.

  “How is there left ove
r roast?” Chuck jerked open the fridge. “I mean, roast. You’re in college. College students don’t eat roast. They eat Ramen.”

  Sierra’s brows wiggled. “My food is all tax deductible.”

  Chuck stood straight, blinked, and stared at Sierra. “I have stepped into heaven. You cook. You make popcorn taste like…taste like…something I might choose over beer, there’s roast in the fridge, the living room now looks like adults live here, and your groceries are tax deductible? So you cook? A lot?”

  “It’s part of her job,” Donovan interjected.

  Bringing Chuck had not been a good idea.

  “I love to cook.” Sierra smiled. “Love it.”

  “And she’s refurnishing your house.” Chuck brushed past Donovan and walked into the living room. “Nice deal you got here.”

  “You guys pick the movie.” Sierra began pulling food out of the fridge. “I’ll warm up real food for you two.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Donovan protested as he walked toward her.

  Sierra set down the two dishes of leftovers on the counter and pushed on Donovan’s chest, backing him out of the kitchen. “I’m going to make you both tell me what you did and didn’t like about each popcorn. Or tell me something I can write up on my blog. And I’m going to take pictures. Warming up food is cheap payment, Van.”

  He set his hands over where hers still pushed his chest and she froze, sucking in a breath. Donovan dropped his arms. What was with him? “Fair enough. We’ll pick the movie.”

  But he wasn’t able to step away from Sierra before Chuck’s gaze was on them, his shit-eating grin saying that yes, Donovan definitely should not have invited his friend.

  Sierra shook out her hands as she turned from Van. How was she supposed to even look at someone else, much less entertain the idea of a date when Van felt like… Felt like everything?

  She brought the boys’ dinner plates to them and sat on the floor, ready to take some serious notes on her popcorn flavors.

  “That one’s the best,’ Chuck said pointing.

  “You like the spicy one?”

  He nodded. “But the chocolate caramel one is also awesome.”