She points up at the wall behind her head. Following her pointed finger, I see a giant chalkboard. A grid has been drawn onto it with the week’s classes written out. “This”—she stands on tiptoe to point at a box—“is the next class. Giovanni is teaching, and he’s amazing.”
I nod and say, “Uh-huh.” I can’t manage anything more than that. I’m too transfixed by the name in the box above Giovanni’s. It’s the same name written in a box for Tuesday at six-thirty, and Sunday at noon.
“Whitley, thank goodness you haven't left yet.” A breathless voice comes from behind me. “I left my wallet in the studio.”
My breath slams up my throat. My heart bounds around my chest like an unbroken stallion. That voice has haunted me, shown up in my dreams, infiltrated my thoughts. I turn around, unsure what to expect but willing to take whatever Ember dishes out.
Her hands fly to her lips when she sees me. Through her fingers I hear her gasp. The girl at the counter, Whitley, is saying something, but to me it sounds like she’s speaking in slow-motion.
“What are you…?” Ember hands move from her mouth to her hair. She runs her hands through it. “Why are you…?” Her head shakes as if she’s clearing it. “Hi,” she says, then laughs.
“Uh…Uhh.” It’s all I can manage because I’m seriously that dumb. The language center of my brain is mush.
And then she does the most unexpected thing. But it’s Ember, so maybe it’s expected.
Full speed, she runs to me. Like 1,424 days haven't passed. Like our relationship didn't end in almost exactly the way she said it would.
Her legs wrap around my waist, and I thread my arms around her, holding her up. Her fingers caress the back of my neck, and she presses her nose into the space beneath my ear.
Now I’m home.
19
Ember
How can hurt disappear in an instant? My relief at seeing Noah, the end of his absence, tossed my old, wounded feelings out the window and right onto the concrete sidewalk.
I’m still in his arms. My heartbeats haven't yet slowed to a normal pace. He looks like my Noah, but different too. Baby fat has melted from his face. His shoulders, the ones I’m currently clinging to, are wider. Beneath his thin cotton shirt I can feel the hardness of his body.
Tempting as it was, I’ve made it a point not to look him up. He’s the reason for my two glasses of wine maximum, rule. Anything more than that, and down the rabbit hole I’ll go.
A throat clears. Noah and I both turn to the sound.
Dayton stands in the open door, eyes wide.
Unhooking my legs from Noah’s waist, I slide down his body. My eyes meet his and my cheeks catch fire. He grins when he sees the pink. Damn my traitorous fair skin.
The door softly falls into the frame as Dayton walks closer. He’s squinting, eyes critically appraising Noah. I know Dayton knows who this is, but he’s trying to make Noah sweat. There’s no one else whose arms I would jump into. I may have downplayed our relationship the first time I met Dayton, but since then I’ve bared my soul to him. There’s nothing Dayton doesn’t know.
“Who are you?” Dayton can make his voice very deep when he wants to.
Noah’s hand extends. “An old friend.” If Dayton’s voice was soprano, Noah’s voice is baritone. He says the word friend like it’s a challenge. I challenge you to matter more to her than me. Noah thinks Dayton is my boyfriend, and he’s being cocky.
And I really, really like it. But I'm not going to allow this pissing contest to continue.
“Dayton,” I say, crossing to stand beside him, “is my best friend. He’s also very gay.”
He huffs. “Just gay, Ember. There is no very gay. You’re either gay or you aren’t.”
I laugh. “Dayton, this is Noah Sutton.”
“I knew that already.” Dayton takes the hand Noah has re-extended. “Why are you back?” Dayton’s voice is back to normal, but he’s still defending me and being possessive.
“My brother is marrying Alyssa tomorrow,” Noah answers, facing me.
“Aw,” I say. “College sweethearts.”
Noah stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jeans, glancing at Dayton. I do too.
“Well,” Dayton says, getting the hint. “I have to run something by Whitley. Excuse me.” He sidesteps Noah and hurries behind the tall, white counter.
I forgot about Whitley. She watched the entire exchange, the one that happened before Dayton arrived. The one where I forgot myself, and catapulted into Noah’s arms, and then stayed there. For a really long time.
“So…” Noah starts.
“What do you want?” I blurt out.
He shrugs, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know.”
“Why are you here?”
“I don’t know.”
I’m out of questions. The ones I’m willing to ask, anyway.
“Can I see you tonight?” Noah’s eyes burn with hope.
I don’t respond, because I don’t know either.
“After the rehearsal dinner, I’m taking my brother out for a drink. Will you meet me? He’ll only stay for one. Then we can talk.”
There’s nothing to discuss but the past. The way we ripped our relationship apart instead of letting go at a high-point, and preserving the memory. I’d wanted to look back on us and see the innocent, first love, remember the rush and first-times that could never belong to anyone else. I’d let Noah talk me into a long-distance relationship, and with that we took away our chance at remember-when’s that don’t hurt. Instead of being my high-school sweetheart, Noah is the man who broke my heart.
As if the all-encompassing hurt doesn’t still sting, I hear myself agree.
It’s a masochistic move, but I can’t help it. The pain is worth it.
“Can I have your phone?” he asks, hand out. “I’m assuming you got a new number in the last four years?”
I place it in his palm without a word. I kept my number the same for two years, and then Dayton talked me into changing it. He said it would be a fresh start, and eliminate the possibility that Noah could be on the other end of my ringing phone. Changing the number took my very last hope, but I begrudgingly admitted that was a good thing.
Noah keys in his number, and a second later his pocket vibrates.
“There.” His grin reaches his ears. “We’ve officially exchanged numbers. Now I can call and tell you where we’re going tonight.” His pocket starts vibrating again, and it doesn't stop.
“My brother’s waiting for me.” He backs up a few steps. “Tonight, Ember.” His deep voice strokes my name, taking me back to our final day at the lake, the day Mother Nature’s tears fell over us for what we were about to do to ourselves.
“Tonight,” I echo softly, watching him go.
The door closes and Dayton walks up behind me. “Ohhhh, sweet girl.” He rests his head on my shoulder. “He’s better than you let on.”
“He wasn’t always that big.” I want to bring Noah’s clout down a smidge. Make him a little less overwhelming.
“Was he always that handsome?” Dayton reaches around me with my wallet in his hand.
I take it and stuff it in my purse. “Yes.”
We leave Mind+Body, Whitley in tow. She hasn't said a word to me since Noah walked in.
“Sorry about that.” I reach for her hand and squeeze.
“It’s okay.” She bumps my shoulder with her own. “We all have one.”
“One what?” We come to a stop at the corner. Whitley’s car is parked in the last space on the street, and Dayton and I are around the corner.
She and Dayton exchange a look as he grabs his mat strap and hoists it higher onto his back. The kind that says Can she seriously not be aware of this?
“One that got away.” Whitley explains, waving goodbye and walking across the street to her car. Dayton and I keep going around the corner.
While we walk, I tell him about tonight. He looks at me with pity. “I’ll be by tomorrow at eleve
n, to pick up the pieces,” he says, then pecks me on the cheek and gets in his car.
I climb into my car and lean my head against the seat. Closing my eyes, I picture Noah’s lips saying my name, and the look on his face when he turned around and saw me standing there. I start the car and try to shake off the image of the tousled light brown hair, and the baby blue eyes. Seeing him just now was a gut punch right to the feels.
Tonight’s not looking like such a good idea after all.
20
Noah
“Did you see her?”
Brody takes the turn onto the road that will eventually lead us back to our parents’ house. These are the first words he’s spoken since I left Ember. Until now all he’s done is given me wary looks. His silence worked for me. I was reliving the moment I saw Ember again. Until three seconds ago, anyway.
“Yes.” My voice is calm. My insides are anything but. “She’s going to meet us tonight, after the rehearsal dinner. I know you don’t want to drink much and—”
“You think that’s a good idea?” The doubt in Brody’s tone tells me just what he thinks.
“Why wouldn't it be?” A defensive edge hardens my tone.
Brody sighs, shifting in his seat.
“Just say it.” My excitement is waning. Brody’s attitude has ruined my buzz.
He pulls up to the iron gate, and waits for it to retract. “History belongs in the past.”
The car rolls forward and I’m considering slugging him. This isn’t what I want to hear. “That dumbfuck beard doesn't make you an authority on the universe.”
Brody strokes the scraggly bits that hang off his chin. “It might.”
I shake my head. “You look like a poor excuse for a wizard. Get rid of it before dinner.”
“Let’s go.” He parks and nods out the window behind me. “Dad’s here.”
I follow his gaze to my dad’s car. “Don’t tell anyone about Ember.”
Brody opens the car door and pauses to look back at me.
“I don’t want anyone’s opinion about it.” Including yours. “I’ve made up my mind.”
“I won’t say anything.” The words float behind him as he exits the car.
I get out, too, and walk beside him to the front door. He claps on my back twice, letting me know everything’s okay.
“My boys are here,” Dad thunders when we step inside.
He hugs me first, roughing up my shoulders a bit when he pulls back. His hair has thinned a bit on top, but he’s aging well. It gives me hope for my future.
“Where’d you guys go?” He’s looking at the bag swinging from Brody’s hand.
“Mom’s medicine.”
Dad makes a face. “I wish she’d at least tried some alternatives first.” He shakes his head.
“Like what?” I ask.
“Exercise. Meditation—”
“Fish oil?” Brody snickers.
Dad points a finger at him. “Joke all you want. That stuff is good for you.”
I laugh. “Did you get your crunchy gene from your mom? Or your dad? And why did it skip me and Brody?”
“Very funny.” Dad takes the medication from Brody and turns around. “I won’t tell you where I got the crunchiness, but I can tell you which one of you has it too,” he says, over his shoulder.
“Who?” we yell after him, but he’s out of earshot or ignoring us.
Brody looks at me. “Obviously it’s you. Ember teaches yoga, she’s pierced and tatted, and you still love her.”
“Shut up. She only has the nose ring now. All her earrings were gone. And for the record, I never should’ve told you about her tattoo.”
Brody shrugs and walks away, off to find Alyssa. She’s supposed to be with my mom and her mom, running through last-minute items.
Fine by me. I need space. For a second, I consider heading for the lake, maybe even to the exact spot, but I’m not sure that’s a great idea. I have to maintain some kind of control. I showed none today, darting across the street and into the studio like that. What was I thinking asking Ember out tonight? I don’t have a goal, or a plan. I don’t know what I’m doing.
At the moment I saw her, all I knew was that I wanted to see her again.
I’ll go into tonight with an open mind. Old friends catching up. High-school sweethearts reminiscing.
Twice in my life I’ve been stood up. Each time courtesy of a certain red-haired, feisty female. The first time, I hung my head, and then fate had me stopping at the drugstore for medicine.
This is the second time, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to stand by and lick my wounds. The first place I thought to go was that old apartment she lived in with her mother, but I’m guessing she no longer lives there. At least, I hope she doesn't. I’ll try it if I have to, but first I’m going to do some research.
It’s not hard to find out where someone lives. The Internet doesn't have secrets. When my query for Ember comes up empty, I type in her sister’s name.
Bingo.
After Brody heads home, I leave the bar and follow the directions spouting from my phone. The house it takes me to isn’t palatial, but it’s nice. Well-kept. The porch is hedged by eucalyptus, manicured into near-perfect rectangles. Four steps lead to the front door, and I take them two at a time.
I haven't stopped to think through what I’m doing. I have no idea if Ember lives here. Maybe she lives with Dayton. It doesn’t matter. Sky will know where she is.
My knocks on the wooden door land one on top of the other. Not a casual knock. I’m not feeling exactly nonchalant right now.
Nobody comes to the door. From the corner of my eye, I see movement in the curtains. Lifting my eyes to the porch ceiling, I send up a quick prayer that Sky remembers what I look like, and that she answers the door.
The sound of the lock brings my eyes back down. I owe you one, God.
A red-haired girl opens the door. A red-haired girl smiles at me. A red-haired girl fills my vision.
“Should I even ask how you knew to find me here?” Ember steps back, opening the door all the way.
“I could tell you, but I’d have to kiss you.” I take one step inside, halting when I see Ember’s frown.
“Behave,” she warns with a pointed finger.
“Am I allowed all the way in?” I nudge the toe of one foot forward, inching my way into the answer I hope she’ll give me.
She sighs, her eyes roaming my face. In her gaze I see reluctance infused with longing, fear mixed with need. The magic of Ember washes over me again, drowning me. Doesn’t she know I can’t get away from her? No matter the physical distance, she is never far from me. Suddenly her hand is in mine, and I don’t know how it got there. It’s soft and warm, and when I rub my thumb against the heel of her palm, she sighs. A different sigh this time. Delicate.
Her head leans against the open door. “We haven’t spoken since we broke up.” Her voice is soft but her gaze is hard.
I gulp. I knew I was going to have to answer for that. “That’s how breakups usually work.”
“But didn’t you…I don’t know…come home at all in the last four years?” Little lines form around her lips, a sure sign she’s getting angry.
“No. Not really.”
“You stayed away?”
“I came for Christmas.”
Her anger deflates. “You didn’t come back because of me?”
“Seeing you would’ve torn me apart, Ember.”
“But you’re here now.”
“Because I have to be. Then when I thought I saw you, something took over. It was like I couldn’t help myself. I had to know where you’d come from.”
With one finger I touch her temple, my finger free-falling down her face and ending at her jaw. Hooking my finger below her chin, I tilt her head up and gaze into the eyes of the woman who made me feel music instead of hear it.
“For the past few years I’ve been imagining you, seeing you in different places, my heart beats speeding up each time. In my mind I
knew there was no way I was seeing you, but today, it was possible. It wasn’t just a daydream anymore.” My thumb traces a design on the plumpest section of her lower lip.
“Noah,” Ember whispers, her eyes worried, “You shouldn't be here.”
I shake my head. “Don’t say that.”
She lifts her shoulders, holds them, and lets them drop. “It’s true.” The simplicity of her words pierce me, a sword swiftly vanquishing my hope.
“Do you want me to leave?” I focus on the painting hung on the wall behind her. I can’t stand to watch her lips form words that will push me out of her life. Again.
She doesn’t say anything. Not with her mouth, at least. Instead, she is a flurry of action.
The door slams, locking in place. With two flat palms she pushes against my chest. I stumble backward across the small room until something soft but large stops me. Ember presses into me, her hands on my neck, her breath against my cheek, her lips finally finding their way to mine.
My mind is going haywire. I feel like I’m eighteen again. All I can see is Ember, all I can feel is Ember, all I want is Ember. Suddenly, we’re new. We haven’t experienced the pain of hurting one another. We never missed phone dates, never cancelled trips home to visit, never hoarded hurt feelings until they grew into the monster that ruined us. We are whole again.
She steps back. “Sit. Couch.”
I drop onto a cushion like my ass is on fire.
Ember sinks down onto my lap, her knees pressing into the outsides of my thighs. I grab onto her hair and tug, dipping her head back and kissing her throat. She moans as my lips travel down, her hasty hands fumbling with my belt buckle. She pauses, lifting her arms in the air so I can pull her shirt over her head.
“Take off your pants,” she tells me.
I don’t know when she became this authoritative, but I’m not going to question it. I do as she says, while she slips off her pink pajama shorts. Standing in front of me is the woman I dream about, naked, but she doesn't give me the chance to drink her in. Before I can ask her to slow down, she’s on top of me.
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