by Kristi Ayers
I stood up and growled, “All of you need to fuck off!” My feet, almost floating from adrenaline, took me to the front door, down the steps, and striding the opposite way from my dorms. I’d walk thirty minutes out of my way to go in the back entrance of Montgomery Hall just to avoid running into Max. So I did. It calmed me only a fraction, and when I was in the privacy of my bedroom, thankful Violet wasn’t there, I sat on my bed and cried. Shoulders shaking, snot running kind of crying.
My phone chimed.
Unknown: Holland, this is Adam. You ran off without your violin.
Fuck me…
I knew there was no other way. I would have to retrieve it and I’d have to see Adam to do it. Tears slowly ran down my cheeks. I just wanted to be done with them all. It was too much, and I didn’t do well with stress and anxiety. Not since Lia died.
Unknown: Come over. I cancelled practice. It’s just me here.
Like that would make me feel better. He was fifty percent of the problem. Then I had a clever idea.
Me: Give it to Douglas and I’ll meet him for it later.
Unknown: No practice, no Dougie. And we need to talk.
The “unknown” displayed was getting on my nerves, so I changed it to Adam. Not that I wanted him in my phone, but if he ever texted again and didn’t say who he was, I didn’t want to look dumb not knowing. I was also stalling so I could think of other options for getting my violin back. Wonder if an Uber would just drive it down…
Adam: Or I could come to your room.
Me: I think I will see if an Uber will drive it to me.
Adam: Don’t suggest ridiculous ideas. I can just bring it to you.
No way. I didn’t want him in my private space, and I sure didn’t want Violet coming back and getting in the middle of something she’d never understand.
I stabbed an answer into my phone: Fine. I’ll be there in ten.
I planned to just grab it and go. He couldn’t force me to talk. I was done being in the middle of them.
When I walked out of my building, the weather had turned markedly overcast. I could sense precipitation in the air and my anxiety over rain took a front row seat. Visions threatened to resurface, all intricately fabricated by my own mind since I wasn’t there to witness Lia’s death. Dark clouds billowing overhead foreshadowed that which haunted my subconscious every moment that wasn’t a cloudless, beaming, sunny day or clear, star-filled night.
When I got to Adam’s, I swallowed and took a deep breath. I could do this. In and out, no fuss. With each step closer to the door, my resolve solidified.
He opened the door before I had a chance to knock, as if he were watching for me out the window, and no longer was wearing the dress shirt, but now in a casual t-shirt and wind pants. He extended his arm out to invite me in, staple golden drink in hand. A certain familiar set of lines caught my attention like a moth to a porch light. Could that be…
He followed my fixated stare to his arm and smirked.
“Is that…?” I pointed to his skin.
Lowering his arm, he said, “Yes, it is. And before you ask, yes, it’s permanent.”
“It’s a tattoo?” My mind couldn’t wrap around that he’d inked my drunken whim of a song on his arm.
“Yeah, that’s kind of the point of a tattoo.” He watched my face for a few moments, his eyes dark. “Did you ever finish it?”
I blinked. “Yes, I did actually.”
“Can I hear it?” His voice was low, intimate. And maybe a little vulnerable, given the possibility if I refused, he might actually be hurt.
This was not going the way I’d expected. “I—um. Sure.”
He tilted his head as an indication to follow him into the living room. A cozy fire had been started, softly glowing and crackling in the hearth. The flickering light against the walls and surrounding furniture was warm, inviting. My violin sat waiting on the coffee table next to a glass with golden liquid comparable to the one in his hand.
“I went to the liberty of making you a drink, but if you’d rather have water, I can get it as well.”
I didn’t say anything, not committing that I was going to stay long enough to drink anything. Instead, I sat on the couch in front of my violin and thought about the song I was about to play. Adam sat in a chair where he could fully see me, but far enough away so I wouldn’t feel crowded. He sipped his drink and patiently waited for me to get started.
When I composed the rest of the song, I thought about him. I thought about who he was now and who he used to be years ago. I pictured the dark, unwavering intensity of his eyes every time he looked at me. I wrote the beginning of the song to represent who he embodied today, confident, yet hiding damage, while the middle changed to progress slowly with a building intensity, to end similar to the beginning, only with a hopeful lilt.
I began, and the emotions came directly with the first few notes, grabbing hold and twisting under my skin, through my blood vessels, to my heart. I felt his story, empathy consuming me whole as I visually walked beside him and his pain. My eyes had closed at some point, because when I finally played the last note, I came back to myself—one beat, two beats, and slowly opened my eyes to find my vision blurry. Tears dampened my eyelashes, and then Adam was right beside me, pulling me to him.
“God, Holland. Now I’m going to need the entire song on me. That was breathtaking. What’s it called?”
I looked up into his brown eyes, so dark, so mortally beautiful. “You,” I said on a whisper. “I named it You.”
His eyebrows drew together, eyes darkening as he studied me for a few moments, before his lips crashed into mine, both of his hands coming up to cup my cheeks. I froze, stunned. Quickly, I leaned back and asked the only logical question. “What about Bex?”
“Over.”
That was all I needed. He saw the flash in my eyes and fervently leaned in for another kiss, only pausing to put my bow and violin on the coffee table before his penetrating eyes connected with mine again. It seemed like he was trying to tell me something, his features serious. Gone was his usual sardonic smirk, his cynical demeanor. He was fully present in this moment, resolute with emotion I’d never seen before. It was slightly startling.
His thumbs softly caressed my cheeks, and he tenderly met my lips again. It slowly increased with intensity; he kissed me like I’d never been kissed before, and soon I found myself just as fevered as he was—hands, teeth, tongues taking turns. He had fully let go, nothing controlled, and it was exhilarating. His mouth kissed and licked on my neck under my ear, and then trailed slowly down, making a soft moan escape from the back of my throat.
When his mouth got to the top of my shirt, he bit my skin gently, his breathing heavy, as if he were trying to control himself a little. Then he spoke. “You didn’t touch the alcohol I gave you, so I’m putting my trust in that you’re of sound mind and want this just as much as I do.” It was a request for a confirmation, and I was so far gone, I could only nod my head.
He scooped me up and strode to his room, kicking the door shut. At that point, to be honest, I didn’t care about anything except having his body all over mine. The anticipation of what was about to happen was a new feeling for me, and it devoured any inhibitions.
He set me down a few feet from his bed, intently staring into my eyes while his hands unraveled my side braid. It was the most erotic thing I’d ever experienced; something so normal, so simple made into something unfathomably sensual. When he got it all unraveled, he watched his hands fan my hair around my shoulders.
“You’ve got the beauty of a broken angel and a heart of a warrior. You both inspire and scare me. I’ve felt alone for so long, until you walked back into my life and created a sense of purpose.” His mouth came down on mine, as if to reiterate the words he’d just said. Words that made my knees weak and heart float.
He walked me backward until the back of my legs hit the bed. I grasped the bottom of his shirt and pulled it over his head. His dark eyes glinted, liking it. I looked d
own at his forearm and traced the tattoo done by my own hand, a song that turned out to be so much more. He shivered at my touch, his breath catching. He lifted off my shirt, and then we were both ripping the rest of our clothes away feverishly, falling onto the bed in a tangled mess, and kissing like we needed to catch up on lost time. His mouth eventually left mine to explore an achingly slow and delicious path down to my breasts. My breath caught as tingles zipped through my abdomen. Then he traveled to my stomach, his tongue hot against my skin.
“Holland,” he paused, “have you done this before?”
I hadn’t. Dating wasn’t on my list of interests ever since Lia died. Before that, I’d fooled around, but nothing more than touching, and this made me suddenly embarrassed. “No.”
“Oh, God,” he said with a shiver. He came back up to kiss me, tenderly this time. “I’ll go slow.” He nipped at my lower lip. “I like slow anyway.” A deeper kiss, slow and achingly erotic, then he whispered, “This is exactly what I wanted to do in high school. You have no idea, Holland.” He sounded like I’d made his most secret, forbidden wish come true.
After traveling down to my stomach again, he circled my navel, hooded eyes looking up at me, and said, “Stop me if I hurt you at all.” That was all the warning I got before he slid a finger inside me. After much focused amount of time down there, nearly making me beg for what was next, he sat up and carefully placed protection on, then met my eyes as he slid in.
I gasped softly. It was a blissful mix of pain and pleasure. His mouth was slightly open from the long-awaited ecstasy he was feeling. He slowly pushed in and pulled back, being careful not to hurt me, until he tenderly built a rhythm. He watched me, seemingly committing every moment to memory.
Truth, I was doing the same. Each moment built higher and higher, both of us moaning and feeding off each other’s sounds, until I felt the most amazing wave, and he soon followed. Both of us were left catching our breath as he positioned his body next to me.
“The glow you’re wearing suits you well, Holland.”
“You gave it to me.” I blushed.
“I think you should wear it more often.”
I chuckled low in my throat. “Do you now?”
He threaded his fingers through mine and made his answer a dazzling kiss.
It was after that I noticed the sound of rain outside, a constant, heavy shower. Eyebrows drawn from disbelief, I asked, “How long has it been raining?”
He kissed my shoulder. “It started when you were playing my song.”
Chapter 14
Max
It was early Sunday morning, the clouds from last night drifting off as I walked down the damp sidewalk to Adam’s place. The scent of petrichor was heavy in the air as I passed puddles and fallen leaves, proof that two elements worked in tandem not many hours ago. Thoughts inevitably falling inward, it felt like I was the rain to Holland’s wind, only never coming together. It was either a heavy, straight downpour or a windy, desolate day with us.
Douglas told me yesterday we were supposed to meet Holland at Adam’s for practice, that she was going to play her violin with us. I had mixed feelings about it for a few reasons. One was the current confusion between us. Another was the fact that she’d be within Adam’s reach. Moral compass thrown to the ground, he’d be all over her and it would be high school in repeat.
But practice got cancelled yesterday, reason unknown.
When I got closer to his house, I heard yelling coming from within. Female.
Bex.
Dammit, I hated being around her wrath, but I needed the guitar that Douglas put inside for me. I stepped up to the front door and paused, determining if I wanted to just go in or take a walk and wait it out.
Her voice boomed. “So you brought this whore here? Am I not enough for you?” Something crashed and broke. A glass maybe. “How long have you been cheating on me?” she growled.
I couldn’t hear Adam and was curious what he was saying to her, and how he was not blowing up at this point.
“Who is she? Adam, who is she?” Bex was irate. “You’re an asshole. You don’t get to do this to me.”
He finally snapped. “Get out, Bex. Now. You’re no longer welcome here.” Something else crashed and then I heard a feral shriek. A moment later, I saw Adam pushing Bex out the front door—I had to step back quickly—as she continued to punch and claw at him. She finally let out one last scream and stomped to her car, yelling more obscenities. When he looked over at me, his face fell, as if his day couldn’t get any worse. My eyes narrowed, curious what that was all about. Who did he have in there?
I got my answer when Holland came out. It became abundantly clear what had gone on. The guilty looks they both wore were my confirmation. I looked away, debating what I was going to do or say. My default was to shut down. Holland snagged my drifting gaze, her mouth open like she was going to say something, but ultimately didn’t. Adam wiped the look he’d worn a minute ago off his face, which was now inscrutable. The silence between us held a drama I didn’t want to be a part of; I’d never show emotion like Bex. Their actions were their fault, my feelings due to those actions were my own. I technically had no claim on Holland, but I needed to make something clear.
“If you so much as scratch her, I will gut you.” It was a threat and I hoped he took it seriously. “As for our friendship, well, fool me once, my fault; fool me twice, then fuck you.”
He knew I was talking about Callie Rose, and here he was doing it again. We were done being friends as far as I was concerned. I went inside, coldly passing them, and found everything I owned, angrily setting it all by the front door to take with me. I’d have to get my electric guitar and amp later, unfortunately.
“I’ll get the rest of it later,” I muttered as I held two skateboards, a binder with guitar chords and lyrics, and my acoustic, then started to leave. They both stood on the porch bouncing helpless looks off each other.
Adam finally spoke. “Come on, Max. Don’t be like this.”
My eyes shot to him. “I can’t go through this again. I can’t forgive you again.” I pushed past him. “Find a new band member.” I walked past Holland without so much as a glance and proceeded down the sidewalk, scowling at everything I passed.
Within minutes that I lost being inside my head, I burst into my dorm room, threw my guitar on the bed, and let the skateboards and binder drop to the floor. Douglas, having noticed how distraught I appeared, turned off his game. “Whoa, man, what’s wrong?”
I shook my head, grinding my teeth because I didn’t want to relive what I just went through, so I said what I knew he’d understand. “He Callie Rosed me again.”
Douglas blew out a frustrated breath. “That bastard.”
“I’m out of the band.” I paced the floor, too wired to sit. “Done.”
This news made his head jerk back. “What? Are you shitting me right now?”
“Nope.” I jabbed my hand through my hair. “I can’t go back there. I may kill him. My amp and electric are by his front door. Could you possibly get them for me? Just when you have time.”
“Sure, no problem. We can’t have a murder. I wouldn’t even know where to dump the body.”
That elicited a smirk from me. He knew just what to say to loosen me up just a fraction. “I have a few ideas, but he’s not worth possible prison.”
He pointed at me. “Right. He isn’t worth having to worry about dropping soap in the showers. Especially when your cell roomie’s name is Butt Boss.”
I burst out laughing. Okay, he really knew the right thing to say. And that was why we were friends.
Later that day, Douglas brought the rest of my things back. He even swiped a bottle of liquor. “Yep,” he said when I held it up questioningly. “I told Adam, ‘You’re a sucky friend and I’m taking this for collateral damage.’”
I smiled and shook my head, amused, then checked my phone for any texts.
“Dude. Stop. She’s not—She won’t, not yet anyway. Just…�
� He sighed heavily. “Let’s have a drink.”
“I don’t want a drink.” My mood was still somewhere between pissy and dejected, but I didn’t want to drown it out with alcohol. That was Adam’s forte.
“Okay, let’s do this, then. Every time you look at your phone, you have to take a shot.”
I crossed my arms. “Fine.” My hands already itched to check it. I chewed on my lip.
“Go on. Check it. I know you want to.”
“Nah, I’m good.” I cracked my knuckles then shoved my hands in my pockets.
“Okay. If you say so. Maybe you’re over the worst part.”
I stood there a moment then yanked my phone out of my back pocket and lit up the screen with a swipe. Nothing. Douglas promptly poured a shot.
“Dammit.” I took it and threw it back. “That was just a slip. It’s out of my mind now.”
“Mmhmm…” He positioned the glass for the next time.
Twenty full excruciating minutes went by. I was nearly breaking out in a sweat. Maybe it chimed and I didn’t hear it.
Phone was back out.
Shot was handed to me.
The effects of the alcohol screwed with my sense of time, so I set my phone on my bedside table and busied myself with studying. Fake studying. I couldn’t read the swimming words, much less forget the swimming, repetitive thoughts.
A chime sounded. It was my phone. My eyes darted to Douglas and his brows raised like a dare. “It will still count whether it’s her or not. You want to get shit-faced?”
I eyed my phone. It could be an apology. That would make me feel better. The thing that would make me feel the best was if she told me he was an ass and wasn’t with him anymore; that it was a terrible mistake because he was a worthless piece of shit who did nothing but steal—
I grabbed my phone and looked. “Fuck.” I sighed. “Indonesia had a 5.7 earthquake.” My hand fell to my side. Aggravated, I glared at the wall.