by Moody, Diane
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Advanced Literary Communications. My name is Dr. Stafford and I’ll be guiding you through these next few weeks of journalistic excellence—”
“Just think, Kylie,” Hannah whispered out the side of her mouth, her eyes never leaving the professor. “This is our last semester. The last time we ever have to put up with any more of these dumb welcome speeches. The last time we have to load up on textbooks and homework and all-night cramming for impossible exams . . .”
“I know, but it kind of makes me sad in a way,” Kylie answered discreetly, opening her new spiral notebook to the first page.
Hannah turned to face her. “Are you crazy?”
“Not at all. Come on, admit it. You’ll miss this campus. The sun coming up as you go to those early labs. The cute frat boys—they may be snobs but they’re still hot. The smell of freshly mown grass on the commons . . . or leaves burning in the fall . . . homecoming . . . the band playing the fight song at football games . . . the student center—”
“The sticky buns at The Bakery.”
“The pizza at Vitto’s.”
“As my assistant hands out your syllabus for the course work, I’ll ask you to open it to page three where we’ll go over the objectives for our time together these next few months.”
After the overview, the professor began his lecture, lulling most of the class to a drowsy early morning nap.
Hannah tried to keep her mind on the lecture, but found herself doodling in the margins of her paper. She propped her elbow on the corner of the desk, resting her chin in her hand. She hoped the professor would assume she was taking copious notes. Not that he would care. This was, after all, college.
Sometime later, a strange sound roused her from her artwork. She stole a glance at Kylie whose jaw dropped, almost disappearing into her blue turtleneck. Slowly she turned to face Hannah. Her lips moved. She was trying to say something.
Hannah’s brows knitted the question. What?
Kylie motioned her head toward the front of the room. There was panic in her eyes. Hannah was afraid to look. More reporters? More cameras?
Without moving her head, she let her eyes crawl toward the main level. Two campus security guards stood at the door as if on patrol, their hands folded behind their backs. At the podium stood another, his back to the class as he talked privately with the professor. And beside him—
It can’t be . . .
Hannah froze. Kylie groaned next to her, trying unsuccessfully to verbalize something. Hannah groaned in return. Somehow, they understood each other.
The fourth man shook hands with the professor. They chatted out of earshot. It was obvious they’d met before. Then, the men in the pit of the auditorium turned around as the professor moved to speak to his assistant. Hannah slid down in her seat, trying to hide her face under her hand. She peeked through a slit between her fingers, watching the scene unfold below. The assistant looked through the papers on her desk. She pulled one from the pile and handed it to him. He ran his finger down the sheet of paper then returned to the guard and the man standing next to him. They conferred. Then they all looked up.
“Is Miss Brooks present today? Hannah Brooks?”
Whispers swept through the room. Hannah felt her face glowing. Her pulse pounded in her head. She started to perspire.
“Hannah Brooks?”
“Hannah, do something!” Kylie hissed.
That was all it took. The students turned en masse to look at them, along with the men down front. Hannah watched Kylie’s face wilt with guilt; the realization of what she’d done washing over her.
Great. Why don’t you just turn a spotlight on me, Kylie?
Kylie offered a weak smile and mouthed, “Sorry?”
Hannah looked back down to the front of the room. The professor nodded agreeably to the guy in the ball cap, and sat down on the stool beside his podium. Dr. Stafford boasted a conspiratorial smile. He was enjoying this.
The guard stood aside. The fourth man took off his ball cap and his sunglasses. A collective gasp arose from the room. The whispers grew louder.
“Hannah?” he called up to her. “Dr. Stafford—who happens to be a friend of the family, by the way—has allowed me a few moments of his time—your time,” he corrected, waving his hand across the room, “to do something I should have done a long time ago.”
She couldn’t bear to look up. Kylie’s elbow struck her in the ribs. She groaned but kept her face hidden behind her hand.
This isn’t happening.
It’s just a dream.
It’s just another one of my stupid dreams.
Hannah could hear his footsteps creaking as he began slowly climbing the steps, one after another. “And I know this isn’t the normal way to handle this sort of thing, but then—well, nothing has ever been normal between us, has it?”
A few catcalls pierced the air. Others shouted to quiet their class members.
She couldn’t stand it. She had to look. She lifted her head only enough to see over her fingers.
And there he was. Jason McKenzie, his hat in his hands, his forehead scrunched up like a little kid begging to be heard. When their eyes met, the crease in his brow deepened, but a hint of a smile touched his lips.
“See, I owe you a huge apology, and it just can’t wait another minute. And I need all these witnesses here to hear what I have to say so they can vouch for me in case you don’t understand me.”
He continued slowly climbing the steps, his familiar smile breaking through the walls of her heart.
“Now, I’ve allowed the, uh . . . circumstances to disorient me the past few days. I got confused about things. About the past . . . and some of the people in my past. I think you know what I’m talking about. I was distracted. Like I took my eyes off what was important and lost my way.”
Hannah bit the side of her lip. She hoped it would stop the trembling. Her eyes burned. She could hardly see now. Kylie’s sniffles only made it worse.
More steps. More creaking.
“And then, it suddenly dawned on me.” He was only three steps below her now. “Like somebody took the blinders off my eyes. And I knew exactly what I wanted.”
Two steps away.
“Who I wanted.”
“Ahhhh,” the class sighed in sympathetic unison, laughter crackling across the room.
“Isn’t that sweet?” someone sneered on the far side of the room.
Jason didn’t even blink.
“Who does this guy think he is?”
“You dufus!” A girl shot back from five rows down. “It’s Jason McKenzie!” She turned back around, her face bright with anticipation.
“What’s he got that I don’t have?” It was the football player just across the aisle from her.
Kylie let out a huff. “A limo, a couple of mansions, and millions of fans. Okay? So shut up!” She looked back to Jason and plastered a smile on her face. “Go ahead.”
Jason smirked at Kylie. The dimples beside his mouth seemed to pull his smile even wider. He nodded his head in gratitude toward her.
She nodded back. “You’re welcome.”
The class laughed then slowly hushed.
He took the final step, standing directly beside her on the aisle. “The thing is, Hannah,” he began, slowly dropping to one knee. He reached for her hand, covering it with both of his. Hannah cried silently, her shoulders shaking. She blinked, feeling the tears run down her face.
Jason smiled at her, but this time it was a serious smile. Hannah noticed the slight tremble of his chin, a glistening in his eyes. He cleared his throat, never taking his eyes off her.
“Hannah, I won’t even begin to make a lot of promises to you. You know what my life is like. Don’t you?”
She nodded, a knowing smile trying to form.
He continued. “But I know—I know that I can’t even think about another day if you aren’t a part of it.”
Another “ahhhh” echoed across the room.
&nb
sp; “So what I’m saying to you, what I’m asking you in front of all these people here with God as my witness is this.”
He stopped.
She waited.
“I want my Christmas present back.”
The question pushed her brows upward.
“What?” a voice shot from behind her. “What kind of stupid line is that?”
“Smooth. Really smooth, Blue man,” the football player mimicked.
“Shut up!” shouted a chorus of female voices.
Jason nodded, tuning them out. “You know what I’m talking about, don’t you, Hannah. You remember, don’t you?”
Her head tilted as she searched for his meaning. She had no idea.
Then it came to her. She nodded, a laugh and a tiny sob escaping at the same time. “Yes, Jason,” she whispered. “I remember.”
“You were my Christmas gift. And now I want you back, Hannah. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, or the day after that. But I know that I want you there, with me, all the way.” His face melted into a huge smile. “I love you, Hannah Brooks.”
“Oh, please tell me he’s not gonna sing to her.”
“I will never ever hurt you,” a falsetto male voice sang, teasing them.
The women shouted again. “SHUT UP!”
More voices joined in. “I will never make you cry . . .”
The room swelled in chorus as the class teased them with a miserable rendition of the Blue hit song.
I will never leave you all alone,
Just take my hand,
Baby, understand,
I want nothing more,
Than to love you
Forever.
Jason looked around at the impromptu choir surrounding them, then back at Hannah. He laughed as hard as Hannah had ever seen him laugh. When he looked back at her, he shrugged, holding up his hands. “Couldn’t have said it better myself!” he shouted over the singing.
Hannah shook her head, surrendering to the surreal scene absorbing them. She looked at Kylie for support and found her singing along as they continued to repeat the chorus. She looked down at her professor who seemed to be enjoying a good laugh along with the three security guards. Hannah joined the laughter, blown away by the circus around her. It felt like she’d been transported into a melodramatic scene in some ridiculous cheesy movie.
Then, scrambling to her feet, she fell into Jason’s arms, laughing and crying all at the same time. “I love you, Jason McKenzie, I love you!” He drew her into his embrace, kissing her passionately to the roaring approval of her classmates. Their cheers rivaled that of any Tar Heel touchdown, except this touchdown had its own theme song.
I will never ever hurt you,
I will never make you cry . . .
Epilogue
I will never ever hurt you,
I will never make you cry,
I will never leave you all alone,
Just take my hand,
Baby, understand,
I want nothing more,
Than to love you
Forever.
The arena reverberated as thousands of fans screamed in adoration. Hannah’s earplugs were of little help. Out of the Blue continued singing on stage above her. It was her favorite song. Small wonder.
She knew Jason would make his way to her side of the stage. Yep. Here he came. He was sweating. They all were by this time in the show. He walked dangerously close to the edge of the platform, singing with every ounce of his heart.
He looked down at her, seated in the hidden pit that buffeted the stage. He placed his hand over his heart, his fingers mimicking a beating heart, pounding against his shirt. He sang to her alone. It was their secret signal.
“I love you,” she mouthed.
He winked at her and moved away, joining Gevin, Jackson, JT and Sergio for the finale of the song. Above, just behind her on the front row, a young teenage girl screamed to her friend. “Oh my gosh! Did you see that? Jason winked at me! Jason McKenzie knows I’m alive!”
Hannah dissolved in laughter. What goes around comes around. She remembered saying those very words not so many years ago. Who would ever have thought . . .
The months had flown by following that unforgettable day in her Advanced Literary Communications class. Hannah graduated with honors in May, her famous boyfriend there with Laura and Frank along with her own family to celebrate the occasion. With persistent effort enabled by her new-found grit and determination, she landed a dream assignment for the Chapel Hill Herald chronicling life on the road with Out of the Blue.
The endless opportunities for stories flavored by an insider’s touch kept her busy. Behind-the-scenes mishaps. Life on a luxury bus. Encounters with celebrities they met up with along the way. Heartwarming stories from fans across the country. Compassionate stops at pediatric wards and children’s homes. Then always, the inner dynamics between five gifted and talented (and stubborn and opinionated) musicians who made their living in the unique and often surreal world of entertainment. When her column was picked up by Rolling Stone magazine, Hannah could hardly believe it. Her newly acquired agent assured her of a future that was bright and promising. She’d never been happier in her entire life.
Alli and Marissa made this leg of the tour, providing Hannah with plenty of companionship when the guys were busy.
As did another friend who’d made the trip.
“Hannah! Let’s go see the guys between sets. C’mon.” Kylie yelled, grabbing her hand.
By the time the tour had resumed after graduation, Sergio and Kylie were inseparable. They provided the rest of the entourage with endless laughter. While Kylie may have been dangerous behind the wheel of an expensive sports car, she was surprisingly talented behind the set, keeping the guys on schedule, assisting the staff with wardrobe, make-up, and hairstyling.
“Ser-gi-o!”
Bare to the waist in the middle of a clothing change, he held his arms out to her. “Kylie, ¡mi amor! ¡Bésame! ¡Bésame!” he shouted, all smiles, pleading for a kiss. He shuffled quickly over to her while buttoning his shirt.
“I’ll besame you all night long, my sweet Spaniard!” Kylie wrapped her arms around his neck and smacked a wet one right on his lips.
Hannah laughed at their exchange. Kylie’s crash course in Spanish seemed to be paying off.
“I sang to you,” Jason shouted into Hannah’s ear, sneaking up from behind her. He kissed her cheek then turned his back to her. “Here, help me put this back on.” She strapped the power pack onto his belt, snapping it in place as he finished buttoning his shirt. “Thanks, babe.” He kissed her again then tweaked her nose. “I’m outta here.” And off he flew with the others as the music pounded above them.
And so it went. Night after night. City after city.
And despite the enormous pressures of the lifestyle they led, Hannah and Jason’s love grew deeper with each passing day. It wasn’t easy. It never would be.
But that was okay. As long as they were together, they would survive.
Hannah made her way back to her seat, Kylie following close behind. She sipped from her bottle of water and relaxed into her seat. She absently fingered the heart made of diamonds that hung from a slender chain around her neck. Her graduation gift from Jason.
In reality, it was a belated Christmas gift—the one he’d promised her from that first week they were together. Graduation, Christmas. It didn’t matter to her. It was her most prized possession.
After all, he’d given her his heart.
About the Author
Born in Texas and raised in Oklahoma, Diane Moody writes both fiction and non-fiction. Her first book, Confessions of a Prayer Slacker, released in 2010 followed by Don’t Ever Look Down: Surviving Cancer Together in 2011, co-authored with Dick & Debbie Church. Her first novel, The Runaway Pastor’s Wife, debuted in 2011 as well. Tea with Emma and Strike the Match the first and second installment in a series called The Teacup Novellas, published by OBT Bookz. Blue Christmas, the first of her newe
st series, The Moody Blue Trilogy, released in the fall of 2011, and quickly became a bestseller on Amazon Kindle.
A former pastor’s wife, Diane and husband Ken now live in the rolling hills just outside of Nashville, Tennessee. They are the proud parents of two grown and extraordinary children, Hannah and Ben.
Visit Diane’s webpage at www.dianemoody.net.
Go to the next page for more information about
The Moody Blue Trilogy
and other fine novels from OBT Bookz.
Now available –
Book Two of the Moody Blue Trilogy
Blue Like Elvis
By Diane Moody
Click HERE
Other Great Books
and Novels
from
OBT Bookz
for only
$.99 - $2.99
The beloved little book that has made a difference
in lives of so many is now
available for the first time as an ebook
Confessions of a Prayer Slacker
By Diane Moody
Click HERE
"This book was absolutely hilarious
and absolutely charming."
ORDAINED IRREVERENCE
By McMillian Moody
Click HERE
“The twists and turns in the story kept me
reading every spare minute. I loved this book!”
THE RUNAWAY PASTOR’S WIFE
by Diane Moody
Click HERE
”What Diane Moody did in this short novel
is tell a delightful story that is so creative
and heartwarming, it could be a movie.”
TEA WITH EMMA
By Diane Moody
Click HERE