“Well good luck with that,” Sheila says dryly, as she focuses on something behind me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see someone approaching with a white box and I’m ready to melt into the ground. “You have to be kidding me.” I suddenly find myself praying with all my might these damn flowers are from my boyfriend, that he really is somehow trying to surprise me. That he really is more thoughtful than Sheila thinks he is. But I get the sinking feeling I’m way off base.
I thank the flower guy and wait for a solid ten minutes for people around us to stop whispering and glancing in our direction. And even though I’d rather wait until I get home to open the box, I know, with Sheila close by, it’s not going to happen.
“Oh my god. This has to be the best birthday dinner ever—secret kisses, mysterious flowers. Enough scandal to keep me going in lonely old Sagle for years to come.”
I snicker and signal for her to open the box. “Go ahead, indulge yourself.”
She eagerly lifts the lid and, as I suspect, there are three more black roses inside, making the count of ‘mysterious’ roses I’ve received an even seven.”
“Do you think this is somehow a play on your name?” Sheila asks. “Black Rose?”
We stare at each other for a moment, contemplating the possibility before we both burst out laughing.
“Oh, god. I hope not.”
She retrieves the envelope and instead of handing it to me, she tears it open.
“Card number one,” she reads loud enough that a few of the girls at the table behind us peer over her shoulder. “The real lover is the man who can thrill you by kissing your forehead or smiling into your eyes or just staring into space. Marilyn Monroe.” Sheila raises an eye brow. “That’s very true.”
She picks up the another card. “If I had a flower for every time I thought of you...I could walk through my garden forever. Alfred Tennyson.” The girl behind her swoons and Sheila glances up at me. “Seriously, who is this guy? Because you know there’s no way it’s Dash right?”
I grab the last card from her, turning it over in my hand.
“Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet.” ~Plato
As if on cue, the lights around us dim and a spotlight floods the stage. I’m still glancing around for Dash when someone taps the mic.
“Hey everyone. It’s uh, it’s nice to be here to night.” I glance up to stare directly into Luke’s light eyes. “I don’t know if you remember this guy right here.” He jabs his thumb in Ross’s direction and there are series of whistles and hoots. Sheila squirms in her seat and by the way Luke is looking at me, I’m not doing much better. “It’s been a while since I’ve been up on a stage but I uh…” he takes a deep breath. “I’ve had an interesting week. I recently reunited with my mother, which wasn’t easy to say the least, considering our history. Some of you might know she’s been hospitalized for a few weeks and it really kind of sucks. Well, I had a talk with her the other day and I learned a few things. First.” He strums out a chord on his guitar. “It’s never too late for your mother to teach you a thing or two. Second.” Ross plays a chord this time and there are a few more whistles. Luke laughs and shakes his head. “Everybody has regrets. Third.” He strums again. “Everybody makes mistakes. And finally.” He looks back at his brother who plays a fancy little riff that has girls literally squealing. “Everyone’s damaged at some point but the best part of all is just because you’re damaged doesn’t mean you can’t be fixed.”
“Now we’re going to do a cover for you all. But mostly for someone in particular. It’s not exactly my speed. But we’ve played with it a little bit, added a little more rock and roll.” There’s more shrieking and screeching, which causes Sheila to roll her eyes. “We hope you like it.”
As the two of them launch into a familiar song, I search the crowd for Dash, hoping he’ll appear out of some corner with a big grin and a rough kiss. But he’s still no where to be found. It takes me a moment to place the melody and it isn’t until Luke starts in on the first verse that the stage has my undivided attention. He’s strumming on the acoustic guitar while Ross is beating out a rhythm on the base of his. The melody’s just a little bit slower, the tone in his voice just a bit harsher, but I’d recognize the song anywhere. The entire club does.
As the brothers play and sing along to Aretha Franklin’s A Rose is Still a Rose, Luke is staring right at me and if I wasn’t sure before, I’m positive now. Those flowers are from him. And that means a firestorm of drama just for me.
When the song finishes, I sit there, bolted to my chair, my eyes cemented with his. Even though the entire club is roaring with applause, it’s as though everything between the two of us is silent. Luke doesn’t move. He still holds his guitar, just as fiercely as he holds my gaze.
Ross is saying something but it sounds muffled to me. Sheila is poking me, but I barely feel it. It isn’t until the spotlight flickers and the darkness of the stage swallows him up that I come back to my senses.
“Oh my good lord,” Sheila says in a voice that sounds as shocked as I feel. “Did that actually just happen?”
My scrutiny moves from the stage and onto the faces of people whispering, some pointing my way.
“So maybe the rose does have something to do with your name.” Sheila giggles, nudging me and I jump up from my chair. “Where are you going?”
I push through the crowd, my focus on the exit. An evasion, any escape from the mess that is now my life.
It takes forever to get to the other side of the room that now seems ten times bigger than usual. I burst out into the warm night, panting for breath even though I’d been moving at a snail’s pace. Sheila follows shortly after, clutching my arm.
“Are you okay?”
I shake my head. “Where the fuck is Dash?”
“Um…Coco—”
“He’s supposed to be here. With me. He keeps doing this. What’s wrong with him? How does he expect me to—?” I cover my face with my hands and take a deep breath. “I can’t do this.” I sniff.
“What can’t you do?” Sheila puts an arm around my shoulder but, it feels so stifling, I step out of her embrace.
“I can’t be who I’m supposed to be if he refuses to stop being who he’s always been.”
She doesn’t say anything, at first. She just stands there, waiting for me to catch my breath.
“Do you have feelings for him? Luke?”
I stare at the asphalt trying to figure out the best way to answer such a loaded question. Of course I have feelings for him. We’ve been friends—were friends—for so long. But I let it all go. I had no choice. Then he comes tumbling back into my life, shaking things up, turning everything upside down.
“I told you,” she says quietly, reaching out to touch my arm. “It’s okay if you do. I’d understand. Luke’s an easy guy to fall for.”
I turn to look at her, then close my eyes. “I didn’t fall for him. I mean…I didn’t just fall for him.”
She raises a dark eyebrow.
“We were…very close growing up. Spent a lot of time together. Every weekend I was at his house or he was at mine. I followed him everywhere.” I smile. “And, for an older kid, he was always so nice about it. But me, I didn’t just think he was being nice, I thought maybe there was more to it than that.” I shake my head. “Stupid really.” And it was. “We were close and then just like that he ditched me. I shouldn’t have been surprised. He was thirteen when it started. I was only eight. He’d act all annoyed and irritated. He’d ditch me to hang with his friends. The next thing I knew he was telling me to get lost. Just like Ross and Cole always did. Just like the stuff he used to protect me from.”
“And then?”
“And then it ended. He forgot all about me. I forced myself to forget about him. End of story.” If only that were true.
“And now everything’s coming back.”<
br />
I nod. “It’s like that entire gap is closing and no matter how hard I try to fight it, I can’t. And he’s not making it easy. Bad mouthing Dash, sending me roses. Kissing me.”
“Do you still have feelings for him?” Sheila asks.
Of course I do. “I don’t know.”
She fires me a sarcastic glare and I can’t help but laugh. “Okay, fine. There’s something there, but I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe it’s just…nothing.”
Sheila moves to stand in front of me, tilting my chin up. “Don’t you think it’s worth it to find out?”
I shake my head. “I’m with Dash.”
“And I was with Luke. Now there’s Ross. It happens. You meet someone who you think is the one until the one and only comes along and changes everything.” She shrugs. “What if Luke’s your one and only?”
I sigh. “So what am I supposed to do?”
“Let me ask you something: are you happy with Dash? Is it everything you thought it’d be?”
I don’t reply because I know she already knows the answer. “And when you think about Luke do you think it could be everything you ever imagined?”
I do. “It doesn’t mean it will be.”
“But you’ll never know unless you try.”
Sheila grabs my hand, pulling me back toward the entrance but I stay firmly planted in place. “I can’t go back in there. Not after that.”
“It’s my birthday,” she whines.
“So we’ll go to Chagrin’s,” I say. “For old times sake. And once you’re drunk enough I’ll challenge you to a slider eating contest at Poppa’s.”
Sheila laughs so hard, I swear she’ll pee herself. “In that dress?” She points to the stretchy red fabric hugging my body. “You’re on.” She turns to go back inside and I regard her with questioning eyes. “Wait here,” she says. “I’m going to get that bouquet. Can’t let good flowers go to waste.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Luke
I’ve been sitting on this bench for a good two hours with no sign from her. Holding on to this six pack and my breath. But she hasn’t made an appearance. And I’m starting to regret the whole stupid thing. Maybe being subtle with roses and poems was a better idea. But subtle just isn’t me. Maybe it was the two of them together that proved to be too much—the roses and the song within minutes of each other. Maybe I embarrassed her.
I groan and crack open a can of Bud. I’d convinced Ross to take a hike, just so we could talk. Really talk. Then again I didn’t have to do a whole lot of convincing with Sheila in town.
Still, here I sit. Pathetic and alone, like usual.
With Sheila occupied by Ross, Coco should be completely free. Unless of course Dash swooped in when I wasn’t looking. Which is entirely possible. She looked crazy hot tonight, with her tight red dress and her curls. I wanted to sink my fingers into that hair, wrap my arms around that tight little waist. But I had bands to oversee and people to introduce. She left the club so fast, I didn’t have a chance to say two words to her and now I can’t even decide which two words it’ll be. I’ve got so much building inside me, I don’t even know where to start.
I take a long chug of my beer and close my eyes leaning my head back. “How do you even follow up an act like that?” I mutter.
“Good question.”
I don’t open my eyes or even sit up right away. I just stay in the same spot, savoring the sound of her voice and hoping I’m not hallucinating. “Did you have fun tonight?”
When she responds with a laugh, I finally sit up and pat the seat beside me. The moment I catch sight of her, I lose my breath all over again. She’s still wearing that skin tight red dress. It dips so goddamn low in the front, I can’t help but imagine what it would be like to see her without it.
The morning I walked in on her and Dash back in Woodinville was a fluke and not a memory I like to cling to, but I find myself willing and more than ready to make some memories of our own.
“Is that a yes, or a no?”
“Tonight was interesting,” she says from her perch on the bottom step. “I just thought I’d come check on you, make sure everything’s all right.”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
Her responding smile is coy. “I thought maybe you might broke. Homeless? But it looks like you’re doing okay.”
I chuckle, straightening up then leaning forward. “Do I look homeless, Puffs?”
She shakes her head. “No. You look great. I almost didn’t recognize you up on the stage you vowed to stay away from tonight.” She crosses her arms and kicks at the ground. “Only I did. You look like your old self again. It’s nice.”
“And you…” I let out a low whistle. “Where’d you get that dress?” I get up from the bench, before she can respond and stand on the top step. “It doesn’t even matter. I’m just glad you’re here.”
“And not with him?” She gazes up at me, eyebrows raised.
“Well, of course. I’m not going to lie.”
The curve of her lips makes me want to taste them. To end this entire conversation and do the one thing I’ve been thinking about since the last time we did it.
“So, you’re my secret admirer.”
“Not much of a secret anymore, is it?”
“I’ll say.”
“You think the whole town knows?”
“Guaranteed.”
I shrug. “Let them talk then.” I reach my hand toward her and when she climbs the three stairs separating us and gives me hers, I’m so relieved I have to force myself not to pull her into my arms and take what I want right there. “Are you going to be okay with this?” I ask, staring down at our hands.
“With what?”
“Dating the town pariah.”
Her gaze drops and when she looks back up at me her face is serious. “I don’t want to date you, Luke.”
I swallow hard and open my mouth to protest to convince her. Anything. But she stops me, meeting me on the top step. “I want for you to be all mine and me to be all yours.”
Holy shit. “I’m pretty sure that’s the way it’s always been, Puffs. It’s just neither of us really knew it until now.”
“When you kissed me the other day, why did you do it? Was it because you were drunk?”
“Is that why you kissed me back?”
She shakes her head. “I kissed you back, because it’s something I’ve always imagined doing. Ever since I was a little girl.”
“And I did it because I couldn’t help myself.”
“Will you do it again?”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Coco
The moment I say the words, a part of me wants to take it back. The smallest part of me. That voice in the corner of my mind that keeps repeating the same words: Think about Dash.
But Luke is staring at me, exactly how I used to fantasize. Everything about him—lips slightly parted, eyes locked on mine, the pink creeping onto his cheeks—draws me in. And I can’t look away. Ten years ago, in this same situation, I probably would have fainted, tried pinching myself just to make sure he was real—the way he’s holding my hand and smiling at me was my actual reality. I’m starting to realize even though I locked those feelings away a very long time ago, they’re rippling on the surface now, boding a tsunami.
Luke backs up, leading the way into the house and I can barely feel my legs as I follow behind him. Once inside, he closes the door then takes my hand again. I follow him down the hall that separates the kitchen from the living room and he pauses in between the small space. The proverbial fork in the road.
On one side is the tattered sofa, where I’ve spent more hours on than I can count—pretending to read while secretly spying on Luke, watching movies with our brothers, hanging out with Sheila. Straight ahead is the front door—my escape. Freedom from vulnerability. If I stopped this right now, turned to him and explained my actions away, blamed it on too much wine or a broken heart, would I regret it? To the right are the stairs t
hat lead to his room. A place I haven’t been inside in as many years as we haven’t known each other. I can’t even begin to imagine how much it’s changed. Or what it would be like to sit on that bed again—with him holding me, touching me in places only he gets to see.
I let out a soft sigh when he caresses my cheek. “Are you okay?”
I nod and when he places his other hand on the opposite cheek, I close my eyes coming to a final decision. Before I can stop myself, I step out of his grasp, my foot hitting the first step. Luke is immediately behind me. The breath he lets out is so forceful, it tickles my neck. And without turning back to see his reaction, I ascend.
His room looks almost exactly like I expect it to. Almost exactly the same. The same navy blue curtains are drawn against the window, the familiar indigo rug in the middle of the room. His walls are still covered in posters, even after all these years, but they’re not the ones I remember. Bikini clad girls posing against cars and with guitars, instead of Pac Man, Alf and Robotech. The wall at the foot of the bed is still draped in two huge posters, one of the DeLorean and the other of KITT. And when I turn around to find Luke watching my every move, I notice the life-sized C-3PO poster still plastered to the backside of the door.
I don’t know why, but these few familiar things put me even more at ease and I offer him a small smile, before I make way over to the window. His room overlooks the driveway and is perfectly level with mine.
“You know how many nights I watched you through this window?”
I don’t hear his footsteps and when his arms encircle my waist I instinctively lean my head back. “You watched me?” he murmurs in my ear. “That’s not creepy at all.”
“Not at night time or anything.” I nudge him with my elbow and it connects with his hip. “And not recently. Back in the day, when you used to bomb Ross and Cole with water balloons and sneak out onto the roof when you were grounded.”
He laughs and turns me around to face him. “I watched you too.” My eyes widen and he shakes his head. “Not in your room, Puffs.” He frowns. “Except for that one time. You snuck that creep Andrew Herbert over and we had to put the fear of god in him.”
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