Strings of the Muse

by Kristi Ayers

  “Here you go, champ. You’re doing better than I thought. I figured you’d be two sheets to the wind by now.”

  I took the shot and scowled at him. How ironic that it was Adam’s alcohol that was helping me get through all my self-deprecating thoughts and intense flashes of anger. Each shot took me down a couple notches, bringing me back to a more level-headed person. The me I was before Holland stole my heart, when my days were mundane, and my thoughts were less consuming.

  “You’re no defeatist, my friend. You’re finding hygge.”

  “Just because you’re associating me with some weird word calls for another shot.”

  “It’s a word you need to learn.”

  “I’m good. Hand it over.”

  “You didn’t look at your phone yet.”

  I took my phone and carefully set it down on the floor while my eyes were resolute and fixed on Douglas, and then shoved it, hard. It slid across the wooden floor and directly under his bed.

  He blinked a few times, then said, “Well, this calls for a toast.” He poured both of us a shot. “To the next chapter for us. May every page be a good one.”

  Clink.

  Chapter 15

  Holland

  It was awkward, at least for me, after Max left with such a cold, fixed stare, his focus on leaving as fast as he could, not even sparing me a glance. I doubted I’d ever get the entire confrontation out of my mind.

  “Babe.” Adam sat down beside me on the couch and brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. “What’s wrong?”

  I stared at the floor. “I caused your band to break up. And your friendships.”

  Douglas. Oh my god, the look he gave me when he picked up Max’s things earlier, so full of disdain, as if I ran over his…best friend.

  But that was exactly what I did.

  “I need to go back to my room,” I said in a monotone voice. I was mentally exhausted.

  He took my hand in his. “Don’t leave when I just got you. I’ll find a new band. It’s going to all be okay.” He leaned over and kissed my temple reverently.

  Inside, I was melting. His touch, his unabashed attention, made me feel things I thought were going to forever stay in hibernation. At the same time, I couldn’t shake that I’d done wrong.

  He sighed and sat back when I didn’t move. His eyes were on me, I felt them, and he regarded my face for the longest time before he asked, “Have you fallen in love with the wrong person?”

  My eyes darted to his. He schooled his face so I couldn’t read him. Did he mean himself or Max?

  When I didn’t answer, he fought his inner demons and made himself vulnerable. “Holland, last night was the best one of my life. Above every person in my past, above every gig I ever played, you rank at the top. I would never admit to that if I didn’t mean it.” He kissed my shoulder, over the fabric. I slipped a little inside. His soft brown eyes met mine. “You took my heart in high school, and since then, being without you has never felt right.” He was so close, our breath mingled. “Holland, I’m in love with you.”

  That was it. That was all I needed to hear. I grabbed him against me, kissing his beautiful mouth and threading my fingers into his dark hair. I felt his body slightly sag against mine, almost like a silent sob, before he gathered me hard against him, and nearly devoured me whole. I felt his heart crack the rest of the way open with his kiss.

  We didn’t bother going to his bed. We were too far gone.

  Sometime afterward, as we lay skin to skin on his couch, I lazily stroked his stomach until my fingers grazed something raised and felt his sharp intake of breath. I tilted my head to inspect, curious what he seemed uncomfortable for me to touch. I found a puckered, jagged line, the skin slightly lighter and shiny. A ghostly echo of, what, surgery?

  I looked up at him and saw he was staring at the ceiling, his features slightly tense.

  “What is this?” I whispered.

  He swallowed. “A mistake.”

  “Tell me.” I placed my palm fully over it to show him it didn’t disgust me. It was just below and a few inches to the left of his navel. He closed his eyes and exhaled, but when he didn’t speak, I circled it ever so slowly. “If you tell me, my fingers will travel…lower.”

  “You filthy girl. Okay, fine. I had a large pocketknife in my jacket.” My finger caressed a fraction lower. His bare chest rose with an inhale; he both liked and hated my game. “I tripped and fell on it.”

  I didn’t go lower. “Hmm, sounds like you’re leaving something out.”

  He growled. He was obviously turned on and wanted my hand to wrap around what was resting a little bit lower, already anticipating round two. I caught his glance toward the kitchen at the bottle of whiskey that sat on the counter, but he stayed where he was, clearly torn. I traced the words “tell me” over his skin. He made another guttural sound in the back of his throat.

  “You’re amazing, the scar included. Anything you tell me, you know I’d never judge,” I coaxed.

  He finally turned his head and connected with my eyes. They were sad but held a certain determination. “I did it on purpose.” He paused and pressed his lips together, as if gathering the right words. My fingers caressed slow circles, hoping it made him continue. “I couldn’t handle my dad’s murder anymore. I wanted to die too.”

  My heart broke. I grabbed his hand, which was resting on his chest, and squeezed it. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

  His eyes softened and he kissed me. It progressed from sweet and tender to desperate and hungry. I sat up and straddled him, unsure of my sexual prowess abilities, but decided to give it a go. Adam’s eyes widened at first, surprised, and then he sucked in air through his teeth as I slid down on him. His low moans and heavy eyelids told me I was doing it just right.

  The next morning, the ever-dreaded Monday, life had to go back to the typical routine. Work. Classes. Studying. Two weeks went by. I spent most of my free time with Adam but didn’t go as far as move in with him, much to his utter dismay.

  “Holland, just move in with me.” His brown eyes were pretty damn convincing, but I refrained.

  “I can’t. I—”

  “You can. We can load it all up in my van. I’ll take care of the whole thing.”

  I gently put my hand on his chest, clothed at the moment, and said just as gently, “It’s important for me to be as independent as possible. But that’s not to say I can’t spend the night on weekends.”

  He enveloped me in his arms and kissed the top of my head. “Okay, I understand.” His warmth felt so good, I almost wanted to stay, especially since the December air had chilled dramatically. Fall fell right into winter. “Let me drive you to your dorm. I’d feel like an ass if you walked in this weather.”

  “Oooh, I get to ride in your precious baby.”

  He smirked. “You are my precious baby. And it’s high time you ride in a real car.” He brushed both of his thumbs against my cheeks and I thought he was going to go for a kiss, but he surprised me instead. “Let me take you out on a date Friday.”

  My heart swelled. We hadn’t managed to leave his house once we both were there. Either I brought food with me for us to eat or he grabbed it before I arrived. “I’d love to.”

  We walked hand in hand to the ancient, one-car garage and he opened the Porsche’s shiny black passenger door for me. When I slid in, a heady mix of leather and Adam’s personal scent drugged my senses. The car felt one hundred percent masculine from the dark bucket seats that hugged my backside, to the thick, commanding steering wheel, to the sleek lines of the exterior that demanded the eyes of everyone we passed. It was a short distance to my dorm, but it beat walking in the cold, blustery wind.

  I thought he was going to just drive up and let me out near the door, but he pulled into a parking spot and turned the car off. “I want to walk you to your door. Like a proper gentleman.” He started to open his door, then added, “Don’t move.” He jogged around the front of the car and opened my door, taking my hand to help me out
. Smitten into awed silence, I smiled up at him as we walked quickly to get out of the wind that was blowing our hair in all directions. By the time we made it inside the warmth of Montgomery Hall and took a look at each other, we burst into a fit of laughter and started taming each other’s hair back into place. When we turned at the same time, we both froze, laughter immediately silenced.

  Max and Douglas were in the lobby, both looking directly at us. An awkward silence ensued, and I found it hard to breathe, as if the space wasn’t large enough for the four of us. All the other students milling around, talking, laughing, had no idea of the bubble of emotions nonverbally bouncing between us. Adam’s default of being cocky and insulting was muted, and he even exhibited a ghost of remorse with the way he fidgeted and looked to the floor. Douglas held stories behind his eyes, throwing shame toward Adam, while Max… Oh god, he looked at me with the most broken eyes, as if he were letting himself relive each moment of our time together, and subsequently, the finality of it all. Then he looked at Adam. His features turned neutral; he lost all emotion and took his leave without a sparing glance. Douglas followed him, only he did give Adam a sad shake of his head before he rounded the corner.

  Frankly, it made me feel like I was solely responsible for the downfall of their band and friendship, and that left a rancid feeling in my stomach. “I’m going to go to my room.” My voice was raspy. I could barely look up at Adam, and I damn sure didn’t want him to see the tears threatening to spill.

  “Holland,” he sighed, “wait.”

  But I didn’t. I bolted. Evasion was always easier.

  Until it backfired.

  I didn’t hear anything more from Adam that night and nothing the next day either. Evasion could go both ways apparently.

  “Doll, you’re moping like your teenage movie star crush died,” Violet observed, concern written all over her face. When I didn’t move from my lamenting posture, she went on. “What happened?” My eyes continued to look at the same crack in the wall, an accurate representation of what was going on inside me. A slow fissure splintering into a crater. “Did he break up with you?”

  I was quick to answer that. “No.” Knowing she wouldn’t leave me alone, I continued. “I destroyed his band, and his friendship with Max and Douglas.” It flew out of me once I got started, like there was a pertinent sudden need for it to be said aloud, acknowledged, verified. “I messed up. I should have just stayed friends with all of them. Now no one is talking to each other because it’s all just so messed up. Adam hasn’t spoken to me for two days. I don’t even know why, but I’m sure I deserve it.”

  Violet sat down on my bed, where I’d been the moment my last class dismissed for the day, and where I planned to stay until tomorrow when I had to go to work and classes. “Holland, you are at no fault here.”

  “How could I not be?” My eyes felt wild as I looked at her.

  “They need to accept your choices. It’s your decision. If you clicked more with Adam, then it is what it is.”

  Was that what happened? Or was my mind clouded from the tattoo, his words, his total and unbounded passion for me? Would I have been interested if he was more upfront with his feelings while we were in high school? Was any of this real or had it been a big fantasy that blew out of proportion? Adam put me on some impossible pedestal that started years ago. Max, though…

  “Max’s face—you should have seen it, Violet. It ripped my heart out.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Wait, are you… Do you have feelings for Max? Was he interested in more than connecting with music?”

  I shrugged. “He seemed to be really into how we played together. Like it was a high for him. Then we had that kiss that abruptly ended everything. As if he suddenly snapped out of it and decided we went too far. But…” I shook my head. “I don’t know. Getting together with Adam didn’t sit well with him and I don’t know why.”

  “I would bet my college education that he’s very into you and Adam swooped in and ruined it.” She squeezed my hand with her brightly manicured one. “And you need to decide what you want to do with that.”

  If that were the case, why didn’t Max go further on Thanksgiving when he had the chance? We could have come back as a couple. “I don’t think he was into me. Thanksgiving would have ended differently. I think he wanted me to become part of their band, but hooking up with Adam ruined it.”

  “But why?”

  I opened my mouth to answer, but I had nothing. I just shook my head.

  When Adam didn’t contact me the next day, I’d had enough and went to his house. Cold, frustrated, and ready to get to the bottom of this whole thing, I pounded on his door. A few seconds later, he opened with a flourish, nearly spilling the drink he had in his hand.

  “Cates, come in.”

  “Cates? What happened to calling me by my first name?”

  “Don’t be so dramatic. Hurry, it’s fucking freezing out there.”

  I stomped in, not liking how this was going already. Over the past two weeks, we couldn’t get enough of each other, filling stolen moments with texts and silly selfies when we were in classes. And dirty ones when we weren’t. His current actions were putting a sour feeling in my gut.

  He appeared to be in a state I’d never witnessed before. Wrinkled clothes and mismatched socks, messy hair and exhausted eyes. I walked in further and scanned the house. Clothes tossed on the floor, liquor bottles everywhere, trash wadded up and discarded on various surfaces. The kitchen trashcan was overflowing, ignored. Dirty dishes sat in the sink. Every step I took baffled me more. What the hell was wrong with him?

  “Are you judging me, Cates?” He threw my earlier promise back at me. I was, but not in the way he was assuming. His actions weren’t the same as a scar and what caused that scar. That was an act of desperation. This was self-pity.

  Without answering his question, I started cleaning up his house. He watched, off and on, as if entertained, sipping leisurely from his glass. I bagged up all the trash and took it to the dumpster outside. I washed his slimy dishes. I picked up all the discarded clothes and washed and dried them, all while he watched me like I was an actor on a stage playing an amusing part.

  By the time I finished, he was visibly intoxicated. He typically could handle his liquor in front of people well, aside from becoming mouthy. But now he couldn’t stand and ended up slumped in a chair at the kitchen table. He weakly reached for a bottle of vodka, but I snatched it away. “Party pooper…” he mumbled, angry, but promptly passed out, face smashed against the woodgrain.

  I poured the bottle down the kitchen drain, along with the others in plain view, and then left. As I walked back to the dorms, I had the unrelenting urge to text Max. My fingers gripped my phone, pulling up his number, exiting out, pulling it back up and starting a message, deleting it. I finally shoved it in my pocket. Max ended their friendship. He couldn’t care less about Adam right now. Same for Douglas.

  But I did. I cared.

  I went to work at the café the next morning, my mind a scattered mess and nearly screwing up every order. I wanted to go check on Adam, but I had a full day ahead of me. I decided a text would have to suffice, even though he could potentially play it down.

  Me: Are you okay?

  Adam: (Dots bouncing)

  After what seemed like forever, my phone finally chimed. I opened my messages to find a picture of his most prized body part.

  Frustrated, I shut my phone completely off. The rest of my coffee orders went better because I refused to focus on Adam. My classes were the same. I gave one hundred percent of my attention to whatever was in front of me.

  Until the moment I stepped out of my last class and saw Adam holding a single red rose. His eyes were cautious and completely sober. Students walked around us, a few looking with curious eyes.

  Once they all were out of earshot, Adam spoke. “I’m sorry, Holland. I’m a complete ass and I hope you can forgive me.” Apologizing was something he never did, so I knew to take him seriously, but
the English hallway was not the place to talk things out.

  “Let’s go somewhere else,” I said as I finally took the rose. We walked side by side to a nearby bench among a cluster of trees and sat down, students striding purposefully along the sidewalk a few feet away. I didn’t want to go anywhere private where he could cloud my mind with his touch.

  The sun cast its warmth from its Western position, soon to trade spaces with the moon in a few hours. Thankfully, it wasn’t too chilly yet. Resembling supporting friends, a few trees leaned like skeletons ready for our conversation.

  “Holland, I—”

  “Adam,” I interrupted, “you need help. You can’t keep—”

  “I know.” He took my hand. “I know. I’m better now. I just slipped. My mind…it doesn’t handle things—stressors—well ever since I lost my father. Something switches off, or maybe on, and I fall head-first into a dark hole. I deal with it the only way that works.”

  “Drinking isn’t how you deal with something. It’s how you escape dealing with it.”

  He sighed. “But it works.”

  “To what extent? The loss of your life?”

  “No, never. I would never get in a car or anything stupid.”

  I inhaled through my nose, gathering my thoughts and trying to calm down. I focused my gaze on a gnarled, twisting root from a nearby tree. It was a constant. Tomorrow, it would still be there. In a year, it would only be stronger, deeper, never failing the ground by running from things that hurt it.

  “Holland.” His head was dipped, closer, his voice deep and raspy. “I need you.” He probed for my eyes to meet his, which were damp and bright with emotion. “Don’t let this tear us apart.”

  That broke my resolve. I wrapped my arms around him. He clung to me in a rare display of raw emotion. Any time he let me see that side of him, I fell a bit more in love. We ended up going back to his house and snuggling in front of a movie before falling asleep together on the couch.

  Chapter 16