by Jean Haus
As his dark eyes flash to Justin, I’m ready to fly down the stairs, but Sam’s arm is tight around me. This was an awful idea. “I’m sorry. I just—”
“No need to be sorry, Allie,” Justin says, his voice even lower and more steely than Romeo’s. He shoots a cold look at Romeo first, then at Gabe. “Get your arm off her, Sam.”
Sam chuckles, but he releases me.
“I should go,” I say. I wonder if a room can combust from angry stares as the band members glare at one another.
Tossing the sheet music on a box, Justin says, “Not a chance.”
“Justin,” Romeo says in an obvious warning tone.
Ignoring him, Justin comes to my side—close enough that I can smell his dark, earthy cologne—and wraps an arm around my waist. “This is Allie. You’ve met Sam.” He gestures to the drummer. That’s Gabe.” He then nods toward the guitarist. “And that’s Romeo.” Obviously done with introductions, Justin drags me across the room. “Give us five,” he says, pushing a small door open and then pulling me into the darkness.
“I should have called,” I say, but before I can get anything else out, he shoves me against the back of the door and covers my mouth with his. With his body pressed into me, his hands wrapped in my hair, and his mouth devouring mine, the kiss is hot and luscious. For several minutes, instead of oxygen, Justin is the air I breathe.
He pulls away slightly and I nearly sigh in disappointment.
His thumbs brush the skin of my neck and I shiver. “This is a nice surprise, but why are you here?”
Both his touch and voice are amplified in the darkness. Searching for the belt loop of his pants, I say, “Just wanted to see you.” I tug him closer until he’s pressed to me again. “And I guess I wanted this too,” I say. I tug his head down and kiss him as hotly as he kissed me, exploring every crevice of his mouth with my tongue.
He pulls away with a gasp. “Damn, you picked a hell of time.” His lips slide along the skin of my cheek and I instinctively wrap a leg around him. He cups my butt and slides me over him. At the hard feel of his desire, lust sizzles through me. We’re wrapped around each other and both heavily sucking in air. Why, oh why, did I slow things down the other night?
“Think they’d hear us?” he whispers hotly into my ear, and I can feel the chuckle he releases.
I rock against him and he groans into the skin of my neck. “I don’t care.”
“Shit, Allie. You have to stop or I’m not going to be able to.”
Not only do I not stop, I push my hands under his shirt, grasp the muscles of his back, and touch my lips to the hollow between his collarbones.
“Allie,” he says in a warning tone while groaning.
As my tongue darts out to taste his skin, a knock sounds at the door. “Ah, Justin?” Sam loudly says.
Our bodies pause while intense desire flows between us.
“Out in a minute,” Justin yells, untangling himself from me.
Separated from him, I feel the fog of lust that’s blanketing my brain clear.
Embarrassment at what we’d been doing while Justin’s band members were on the other side of the door rushes through me. Slapping my own forehead, I groan—but mine is entirely different than his was minutes ago.
Without touching me anywhere else, Justin leans his forehead against mine. “I’ll be done in less than an hour.”
I shake my head. “I have to pick up Ben from my parents’.”
Justin draws in a deep breath. “Can you stay for one song?”
The idea of facing his bandmates on the other side of the door, much less watching them for an entire song, isn’t too appealing. “I don’t think they want me here. I should go.”
“Justin!” Sam bangs on the door again.
“Just one song, then I’ll walk you down.”
Bang. Bang. Bang. “I’m going to come in there!”
“One song,” Justin repeats.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
“Fine,” I say. “One song.”
He yanks open the door and pulls me out of the weird closet or room we were in. Three sets of eyes stare at me. Sam stands next to us with a smirk on his face. Lifting a guitar strap over his head and letting the guitar hang from his neck, Romeo appears irritated. Gabe sneers from behind his drum set. A telltale blush warms my face and I try to escape Justin’s embrace, but he holds me tight.
He nudges me toward a line of folded chairs along the opposite wall. “She’s going to stay for the next song, then I’ll walk her out.”
Romeo’s hand clenches the bottom of the guitar strapped around his neck. “Justin, I told you about bringing—”
Justin releases my shoulders as he whips toward Romeo. “One song, and don’t even say what I think you’re going to. She’s not like that.”
Gabe leans across his drums. “If anybody would be able to tell, it would be you.”
Justin’s fists tighten and he takes a step forward, but Sam comes between him and the drum set while I’m seriously thinking of sneaking down the stairs. For a group that plays awesome together onstage, I’m surprised at the animosity hovering over this dusty room.
“Leave it alone, Gabe,” Sam says, for once sounding serious. “She doesn’t know our rules. She just stopped by. J. didn’t invite her, so quit acting like a dick.”
Gabe continues to sneer but sits back without saying anything.
Justin turns to find I’ve taken a couple of steps toward the stairs. He comes over to me and says, “Don’t worry about them. You came to see me.” He gently pushes me onto a chair. “Just one song,” he repeats.
Deciding to ignore the hostile atmosphere, I nod. “Okay, but get playing so I can go.”
He gives my hand a squeeze, then moves toward his bandmates.
“What song did you have in mind?” Romeo asks him in an irritated tone.
Justin steps to the microphone in the middle of the room. “How about ‘Echo’?”
Romeo rolls his eyes but says, “Fine.” He nods to Gabe, who lifts his sticks and hits them together several times. Romeo starts playing a soft and slow but driving melody. Justin wraps his hands around the microphone and leans in as close as possible. I move to the edge of my seat.
Justin takes a deep breath and starts singing. His gaze meets mine and I hardly hear the words as I watch him intensely sing to me. Despite the shadows, his eyes bore deep inside me and I feel like I’m not only connected to him but also open to him. I notice the rest of the band only after Justin closes his eyes and sways to the music. Romeo watches his hands move across the stem of the guitar. Gabe nods as he plays the drums. And Sam has a content, almost sleepy look as he plucks at his bass.
Justin’s eyes open and take hold of me again as he sings. Whenever he sings, it’s like he’s singing to me. Well he actually is this time, but he makes the song seem like it was written for us. His piercing gaze ensnares me, pulls me into the song until we’re connected and riding the same wavelength of emotion. For this brief moment, I’m reminded of what he said in the shop—that we understand each other. Both of us recognize the longing, physically and emotionally, floating between us.
The song ends and his gaze devours me.
I’m instantly on my feet, ready to leave. And Gabe’s and Romeo’s irritation isn’t the only thing pushing me toward the stairs. The sense that my soul has been opened up, and read, adds to my desperation to flee.
Taking the first step, I murmur, “Thanks, bye.”
Justin follows me down the narrow staircase. As we step out into the cool night, I can finally breathe.
He pulls me into an embrace. “Thanks for coming,” he says into my hair. “You made my night, and don’t worry about them. They take this whole band thing a bit too seriously.”
He’s warm and a rush of lust shoots through me, but I brush the ring in his eyebrow with my fingertips and say, “You’re welcome, and I must say you sing beautifully, but I really have to get going.”
“All right.” He gives m
e a soft, lingering kiss, sighs, and steps back. “See you Sunday.”
With a nod, I move around to the driver’s side of my car. I ask, “By the way, what was that song?”
He smiles flirtatiously, showing his dimples. “‘Echo’ by Incubus.”
“Huh, well it was lovely.”
Still smiling, he watches me as I get in the car and start the engine. Since he’s standing on the curb, I offer a quick wave and drive away, but after the first turn, I pull to the side of the road and yank my phone out. It takes me only a few seconds to find the lyrics to “Echo.”
After reading the words several times and recalling his singing “Iris” to me weeks ago, I lean back into my seat with a hand to my chest. Both songs hint that Justin wants me to see beyond his playboy image. Instinctively, I understand he’s trapped in the persona. But I’ve seen the real him. I’m attracted to playboy Justin, but the real Justin is the one who keeps me coming back.
I bang my head back against the seat in frustration. This isn’t supposed to get serious. Justin and I should just be having fun. But his heartfelt plea is melting my resolve and I already know that it’s turning us into something beyond superficial. Recalling the intensity of him singing, I realize he has caught me. And despite all the responsibilities on my shoulders and reservations in my heart, it feels right. More than I ever thought possible, I want to be caught.
Chapter 23
Justin
Though I’m following the instructions Allie texted me, all the state park trails appear the same. Trees, plants, wood chips. I open her text and read it again. Start at the north trail. Left, right, right, then wait at the fork. Be there around two o’clock.
It’s past two and I’m standing alone, surrounded by trees. Wasting time is a little ridiculous considering I have a paper to write and three exams to study for just enough to attain the parent-aggravating average C. I slap at my arm—bugs. All to meet a five-year-old, and to see Allie. At least the sight of her will be worth the unwanted nature hike.
I’m about to text her when the sound of giggling comes at me from the left. Hopeful, I jog toward the sound as it grows louder. The first person to come around the corner is a small boy with curly hair and thick glasses. Seeing me, he stops walking and kicking wood chips. He glances over his shoulder nervously as I continue jogging toward him. Holly and Allie round the bend. Allie’s too cute, sporting a backpack and a baseball cap.
She plasters a look of surprise on her face as I stop my jog a few feet away from them.
“Justin! What are you doing out here?”
I bend and pretend to catch my breath. “Sunday afternoon jog. Nothing better than running on nature trails.” Yeah, right. I like to run on a treadmill with a TV in front of me. I draw in a deep breath like I’ve been running for miles. I’m dressed for deception in Adidas running shoes, a hoodie, and running pants. “You?”
Holly shoots me a mocking look.
“Out hiking,” Allie says, putting her hands on the small shoulders in front of her. “Ben loves to hike and study nature.”
I give Ben a grin. “Hiking’s cool.”
He stares at me, and I slowly realize this kid has got to like me because if anything would be a deal breaker for Allie it would be her son. Yet even though I know next to nothing about kids, being fake isn’t going to work. Kids can smell the “nice grown-up” scam a mile away. At least I used to be able to, if memory serves me right.
Holly crosses her arms and grins wickedly. “It’s been a while since we hung out, J-dog.” My teeth grind at the nickname. “Hanging out with you is the best. Remember that time in band camp?” she asks with a giggle.
Crossing my arms, I say, “How could I forget band camp and your…instrument?”
Holly lets out a loud laugh. Allie nudges her with an elbow, telling her without words that she’s overdoing it, but Holly lifts the cooler in her hand and her eyes sparkle mischievously at me. “You should join us on our hike. We’re, like, picnicking and everything.”
I clear my throat. “Picnic? Sounds great.” I look at Ben. “Do you mind if I join you?”
He shrugs and stares at a folded paper in his hand.
Allie’s forced smile is wide. “Of course he doesn’t mind. And you can help us find all the plants in our scavenger hunt.” She leans over Ben. “Show him the next couple we’re searching for.”
Still silent, Ben opens the brochure in his hand and points to several pictures of weedy green things.
“Neat, huh?” Allie says, gesturing to the brochure. “They give them out at the ranger station.”
I try to appear impressed. “Very cool. How many of them have you found so far?”
“Twelve,” Ben says, at last speaking. “We have eight more.”
“Okay,” I say, glancing at the brochure. “I’ll make sure to look out for the one with the little yellow flowers.”
Ben’s expression stays flat, but he nods in agreement.
Mother and son walk ahead of Holly and me. She keeps bumping me in the leg with the cooler. Then she points at Allie’s butt. “Quit looking at that and spy some flora and fauna.”
My response comes out with a smirk. “Can’t help it.”
Shaking her head, Holly smirks back.
Of course, I don’t find shit. Neither does Holly. Allie spots two of the plants and Ben the rest. Each time they find one, Allie pronounces the Latin term and Ben repeats it, then she reads the properties of the plant, which Ben also repeats. In the span of forty-five minutes as we walk through the swampy part of the trails, I’m thinking the boy is a supergenius and unlike any other five-year-old walking the planet.
The trail ends at a wide-open beach on Lake Huron. Growing up on the other side of the state on Lake Michigan, where the water is rougher, I can’t help but notice how the vast expanse of blue water appears calm and serene under the warm April sun.
Ben runs to the edge of the water and is about to dip a tennis shoe into the slight wave rolling onto the beach.
“Don’t even think about it!” Allie shouts. She glances at me as Ben backs away from the water. “I don’t like yelling, but sometimes it’s unavoidable.”
“Soakers do suck,” I say in agreement.
As she unzips her backpack, it finally hits me: The woman I’m dating is a mother. As in, she had a baby. As in, she’s raising a child. Of course, I knew this, but seeing them together makes it somehow more real, and gives me a glimpse into the reality of her responsibility, which I’m suddenly understanding is huge. I’ve been in my own little Justin world for so long that the whole thing kind of blows my mind. I’m aware I suck at understanding other people. Never used to care though.
Allie spreads out a blanket and then dumps the contents of her backpack, a collection of Hot Wheels, onto the sand while Holly unpacks the cooler. In seconds Ben is pushing the cars around and finally acting his age. I sit on the corner of the blanket closest to him. Feeling totally out of my element, I pick up a red sports car and lift it to get a closer look.
“Now this is a cool car.”
He pauses from pushing a tiny dump truck and says, “That’s a Viper. Fourth generation, Phase Two ZB. Zero to sixty in three-point-four seconds. Highest speed two hundred and two.”
My mouth falls open and I blurt, “Damn, kid, how do you remember all that?”
His little shoulders shrug. “Remembering is easy.”
“Do you even know how long three-point-four seconds is?”
His gaze turns pensive. “Not really.”
“Good,” I say. “I was starting to feel like a dumb ass.”
He grins at me.
“Justin,” Allie says in warning, handing me a wrapped peanut butter and jelly sandwich that reminds me of elementary school. “We’re trying not to use bad words in front of Ben. He likes to repeat them, especially in front of his teachers.”
Ben mouths “dumb ass” when Allie turns around and reaches for a juice box.
I put one finger to my lips, b
ut he mouths the words again. I’m starting to like this genius little shit instead of considering him only as a way to get to his mother’s heart.
The thick peanut butter sticks to the roof of my mouth. The sweet apple juice does little to clear out the texture of the sandwich. And every now and then, I crunch on a grain of sand. But despite the awful lunch, I’m enjoying myself. Pushing cars through the sand, carving out hills and roads, and enacting massive car crashes with Ben turns out to be fun. Never would have thought I’d be one to get along with a kid. But I’m having such a great time—there’s a bit of a jog down memory lane into my own childhood happening—that I almost fail to notice Allie observing us with a pleased expression. As Holly sits next to her and drones on about her boyfriend, Allie appears to watch us more than listen to her friend.
Obviously a pro at kid manipulation, Holly challenges Ben to a race along the beach. Once they’re off and running, I say, “He’s great, Allie.”
“He is,” she agrees, stuffing empty juice boxes and sandwich wrappers into the cooler.
“You said he was smart, but he’s, like, a genius.”
She closes the cooler and plops down across from me. “It’s awesome he’s so smart, but keeping up with him can be a challenge sometimes.”
I can hear the strain in her tone, the constant self-questioning if she’s doing everything right. “From what I’ve seen, you’re a great mom, Allie.”
“Thanks.” She sifts sand obsessively through her fingers as she watches Holly and Ben race farther down the beach. “I hate remembering my freak-out when I realized I was pregnant. I was terrified and miserable about…well, having to grow up overnight.”
“Shit, Allie, you were what? Sixteen?”
She nods.
“Give your teenager self a break. Becoming a parent must be terrifying. It scares the shit out of me now. Can only imagine at that age.”
“I was young but my meltdown feels selfish now. I wanted to go out and party. I wanted to be pretty and sexy instead of fat and pregnant. I thought my life had stopped. Then Ben was born and all of those wants went away. Well, mostly,” she adds with a frown. “Unfortunately, I didn’t grow up overnight.”