Samara, A Kilenya Romance (Kilenya Romances Book 1)

by Andrea Pearson

  He looked at me, tenderness in his eyes, but also pain. “And I’m in the wrong relationship.”

  I couldn’t take my eyes off him. My emotions were so conflicting, I was sure I was about to be torn in half. He liked me! But . . . he was dating my sister.

  He started the truck’s engine and pulled back onto the road. Neither of us spoke the rest of the ride home. I felt fear, not knowing the future, not knowing how things would work out—if at all—between us. Oh, I hoped so much they would! I had a sinking feeling inside my stomach that they wouldn’t, though. I wasn’t living in a fairy tale.

  We pulled up at the cabin and went back to my room to finish practicing. I re-tuned my guitar, as it had already slipped since Mark put the new string on. Mom called up the stairs that we’d be leaving for home first thing in the morning, cutting the vacation short by a couple of days.

  Dad told us we needed to play at least four songs in the concert, and I was glad Matt had encouraged me to buy that many. We practiced through them several times. He didn’t leave my side for a few hours, and Molly didn’t come looking for him.

  About an hour before dinner, Molly walked past my room on her phone, giggling and saying something about nice muscles.

  Matt looked at me. “I really can’t believe her. How do you handle the mood swings?”

  “I ignore them.”

  He stared at the wall. Finally, after a few moments of silence, he asked, “Who has she been talking to?”

  “The lifeguard. From the pool.”

  He nodded. “She’s basically cheating on me.”

  “It’s what she does. She always finds the next boyfriend while dating the current one. She thinks it’s normal, and I suppose, for some, it is.”

  He leaned back against my bed and closed his eyes. Finally, he opened them. “Let’s go through the songs one more time.”

  We worked on them, but I could tell Matt’s mind was elsewhere. I wasn’t into things, either.

  “Well . . .” He put his guitar down, then cleared his throat. “There’s no sense putting off the inevitable.” He smiled ruefully at me. “Wish me luck.” He left the room, turning to walk to Molly’s, and I groaned, lying across the floor. Here we go.

  At first, nothing happened. Then Molly started shrieking and yelling. I couldn’t understand what she was saying, but I didn’t need to. Her tone made it evident. He was breaking up with her. A sensation close to elation hit me, but it was dampened somewhat by the events of the day and doubts over what would happen next.

  A moment later, Matt walked past my door, but didn’t stop. Molly followed soon after, but she swung into my room, her face red, the anger I expected written all over it.

  “What did you say to him?” she shrieked. “What did you do?”

  My heart started beating fast. My sister could be pretty scary sometimes, especially when she was flying off the handle like this.

  “I told him the truth.”

  “And what was that?” she yelled.

  “That you were going to break up with him.”

  “I told you I wasn’t!”

  “Then why are you cheating on him?”

  “A stupid phone call isn’t cheating!”

  I shook my head. “Molly, stop it. Think things over. This is how you always are. You date a guy and are loyal to him for a couple of weeks, then someone else flirts with you and you pay attention to them. Talking to them on the phone. Usually they don’t even know you have a boyfriend already.”

  “Chris does.”

  “Chris? The lifeguard? He knows you’re dating someone?”

  “Of course he does! Matt was with me at the pool, remember?”

  I closed my eyes. “Great. You’ve found someone who’s just as bad when it comes to dating.” I looked up at her. “Can’t you see how you are? It’s this awful cycle. You’ll never find someone worth being with if you keep it up.”

  She growled at me. “Samara Oldroyd, you don’t know as much as you think you do.”

  “I know how disgusted Matt was with you earlier when you threw a fit about clothes.”

  She turned and stormed from my room, and I put my guitar away with shaking hands. A few moments later, I heard the doorbell ring, and Grayden called up the stairs to Molly. She practically danced past my bedroom. I followed her downstairs cautiously, careful not to draw attention to myself, and peeked around the corner into the living room.

  My jaw dropped open, though I suppose it shouldn’t have. I mean, my sister is very predictable. It was Chris. The lifeguard. Of course.

  Had Matt seen? I scurried past the living room and rushed into the kitchen. Mom was finishing preparing dinner and I stood next to her. “The lifeguard is here for Molly.”

  Mom shook her head. “And only a few just after Matt left?”

  My heart sank. “He’s gone?”

  “Yes. He grabbed his things, then peeled out of the driveway a little bit ago.”

  I leaned against the counter, putting my head in my hands. Mom turned to me.

  “Oh, honey, things will be fine. You’ll see.” She hugged me, patting my back for a moment. “Want to help finish things up?”

  I wiped a few tears away. “Sure.”

  I cut up the vegetables while my mom made the dip. I’d started on the broccoli when something dawned on me. Matt had just broken up with my sister. What if he let that influence his decision to play in the concert? What if he was worried about seeing Molly again? I covered my face with the nearby kitchen towel.

  “What’s wrong?” Mom asked.

  “I don’t think Matt will show up to the concert next month.”

  “Oh, he’ll come.” She smiled at me. “He was pretty excited about it.”

  “I know. But that was before he broke up with Molly. If I were him, the last person I’d want to see is her.”

  She sighed. “It’s time for you to learn to play on your own, anyway.”

  I shook my head. “You know I can’t do that.”

  She shrugged. “Your dad has already promised Mark you’ll be opening.”

  “We have to change it.”

  “If you aren’t ready, we won’t force you to do it. But dear, at least work toward it, okay?”

  I promised I would.

  ***

  The drive home wasn’t nearly as eventful as the trip to the cabin. Molly went back and forth between being sullen about Matt and elated over Chris. I successfully tuned her out this time, finished reading my book, then stared out the window, mulling over the events of the past few days.

  By the time we pulled up the drive, I’d convinced myself that everything that had happened—meeting Matt, him falling for me, the few touches we’d shared—wasn’t as wonderful as it’d seemed. Things on vacation are much rosier than they are in real life, right?

  ***

  The next few weeks passed slowly and painfully. Every day, I half expected to see Matt. And every day, I was disappointed.

  My depression about things with Dad, Julliard, and Matt got worse—so bad to where I felt like I was an emotionless void, draining the vitality from everyone around me. Giving my parents the money had been easy and I felt wonderful after. But it was still hard to drop my dream, even if only for a little while.

  The night of the concert finally arrived, much to my dismay. And I’d agreed to open for Dad. I’d barely practiced at all—I put it off nearly every day, hoping to hear from Matt. Hoping he’d want to practice and prepare with me.

  He never called, and I only had the guts to phone him once. He wasn’t home and never returned the call.

  I approached the stage, full of butterflies and bad anticipation. They built up inside my stomach like acid, threatening to burn their way out.

  Putting my guitar next to the mic, I decided to get one last drink before setting up and tuning. And allow myself one last look outside for Matt’s rusty red truck. It wasn’t in sight, of course. Disappointment flooded through me.

  Returning to the stage, I set up m
y guitar and amp, making sure things were completely in tune and the sound worked well. The room was already filling with excited people. I couldn’t blame them—live concerts had the power to energize everyone within hearing distance.

  I saw Molly come in and sit next to Cale and Grayden, looking as dark and angry as night. Turns out, Chris hadn’t been terribly interested in seeing her when he learned she was in town. I sighed to myself, feeling bad for her, but feeling worse because of how things had gone with Matt.

  The curtains closed and my parents came on stage with me. Dad put a hand on my shoulder. “I’m really proud of you, Samara. I know you’ve worked hard for tonight. You’ll be amazing.”

  Guilt flooded through me. “I only practiced a few times over the past month, Dad.”

  He sighed. “Yes, but you’ve worked toward this moment for years.”

  Mom nodded. “You’re realizing all your goals. Well . . . almost all of them.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I promise we’ll make things up to you—we’ll get you out to New York as soon as your dad has another job.”

  I nodded, then knitted my eyebrows, looking at the floor.

  Mom hugged me. “Sam, we promise we’ll help you—we’ll figure things out.”

  I pulled away. “It’s not that. I was . . . I was hoping Matt would come.” I rushed on. “I mean, I know it’s a long drive and I haven’t heard from him in forever . . . but I . . . he . . .”

  Dad hesitated. “He might show up still, you know.”

  I shook my head. I didn’t want to expect that to happen. Besides, if he was coming, he’d be here already.

  I left my guitar in its stand, ready to go, and walked off stage with my parents. Mark, the store owner, opened the curtain and grabbed the mic.

  “We’ve got such a wonderful treat for you tonight! Samara Oldroyd is opening for her father. This is her first time on stage!” He faced me, clapping his hands. “Let’s give her a great big welcome!

  I took my time walking out. I knew I was being ridiculous, but I wanted to give Matt all the time in the world to show up.

  He didn’t.

  A lump stuck in my throat, and I realized how stupid I’d been over the past month. I hadn’t even changed the songs—I only practiced my part. Even though it still sounded good, it wouldn’t be as wonderful as if he’d been up there with me or if I’d redone them to fit a solo. How dumb of me to put everything into the hope that he would come, and with not even one peep from him to give me that ridiculous expectation.

  Life is never like the movies.

  I swallowed the lump and took the mic from Mark, thanking him. Nervousness, disappointment, and a bunch of negative emotions I couldn’t name made it difficult to concentrate. I put the mic in its stand and sat, picking up my guitar.

  I hesitated for a moment, searching the crowd for familiar faces. Mom and Dad beamed up at me, showing their encouragement. Mom mouthed something at me—probably “I love you”—and I smiled in response.

  Taking several deep breaths, I finally pulled the mic close. “Thank you. I’ve been looking forward to tonight for . . . for a long time. Years, practically.” I paused, took a deep breath, and went on. “I just needed to develop the courage to sing on my own.” I smiled at the solemn faces in front of me. Okay, Sam, they’re getting bored already. Time to start.

  “The first piece I’ll perform for you is Hold On by Wilson Phillips. It’s a favorite of mine from the eighties—many of you will know it. In fact, all four songs I’ll sing are from that era.”

  A few people cheered. That made me feel a little better.

  I strummed the intro to Hold On, glad I’d practiced it a few times without Matt. It sounded hollow without him backing me up, though. My voice shook when I started.

  I’d nearly finished the first verse when I noticed someone at the back of the store pushing through the crowd, trying to reach the stage. I stopped singing, my right hand over the strings, my left holding a chord still. Could it be?

  “Hold on!” Matt’s voice called over the sounds of people muttering.

  The audience chuckled at the pun, turning to see who’d spoken, and a huge smile crossed my face. Matt! He’d come!

  The people parted, giving him room to get to the front. He ran forward and jumped up on the makeshift stage, a smile on his face. “I’m really sorry, Sammy. For the past month. I got side-tracked by . . . by something nowhere near as important as tonight’s concert with you.”

  My face was frozen—my hands hadn’t moved. “You’re here.”

  Mark brought out another chair, and Matt sat and hooked up his guitar. He grabbed the mic. “Sorry, people. I got a little stuck . . . in traffic.”

  I barely recognized the confusion on everyone’s face. There hadn’t been any traffic coming into town, and they had no idea who this guy was. I couldn’t stop staring at Matt—he was actually there! If I blinked, would he disappear?

  He continued. “Oh, and I’m Matt Clark. The rest of Sammy’s group.” He turned to me and smiled. “Ready?”

  “Uh . . . yeah.”

  We started Hold On from the top. My voice didn’t shake this time, singing the first verse alone. And when Matt joined in on the chorus, the audience cheered. He sounded so good! I felt the pain in my heart dissipate as we sang together, and instead of tears of sadness, I nearly started crying tears of joy.

  When we sang the chorus for the second time, Matt turned to me, gazing into my eyes, singing to me. I felt his sincerity pouring through the words, completely warming my soul.

  We finished to immense applause. I smiled at Matt, blushing as he searched my face, his eyes hungry.

  “I knew it was wrong to date Molly when I first met you, Sammy,” he said while everyone was still clapping.

  I knitted my eyebrows. “You did?”

  He nodded.

  My breath caught in my throat. He took the mic and introduced the next song, one by Foreigner. He started the piece, again looking at me instead of the audience. I felt shy suddenly and dropped my gaze, joining in where I was supposed to. My chest started swelling, a feeling somewhat like euphoria hitting me. Had he truly fallen for me? Was that possible?

  More immense applause when we ended, and again Matt whispered to me. I could barely hear him over the sounds of the people. He spoke quickly.

  “If only I’d found you first, Sammy. Things would’ve been so very different. And like I said, I’ve felt something for you since we first met.” He rushed on. “Getting to know you only made me fall for you more. You’re genuine. You’re good-hearted. You are the most compassionate person I’ve ever known. And when you talked to me last month, telling me you were going to erase me from your mind, I laughed, but Sammy, I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. You had fallen for me too! But I was dating Molly. I didn’t want to hurt her.”

  We looked into each others’ eyes, my heart fluttering. He handed me the mic.

  “We’re going to . . . uh . . . sing again.” I said into it, barely able to concentrate on what I was saying. “It’s a song by the Bracelets. I mean, the Bangles. Another eighties one, because music from then is really good.” Matt smiled at me, and I felt myself blushing again.

  I couldn’t believe what he’d just told me.

  People cheered as we sang the chorus together, over and over again, me hitting the high note at the end perfectly.

  Once again, Matt talked to me while the audience was cheering.

  “I didn’t want to rush into anything. I wanted to be sure what I was feeling was genuine. After a full month of being away, making sure I really was over Molly, I knew. And Sammy, it was agonizing! I had to force myself not to call you too soon, not to think about you. I wasn’t successful.” He laughed. “I can’t believe we’ve been in the same high school for this long and I never knew you.”

  I laughed too. It was even funnier that I’d never heard of him—him being captain of the football team and everything.

  We introduced the last song together. Matt’s g
uitar solo was amazing—the cheers cascaded over me like a thundering waterfall. The elation I felt at that moment was more than anything I’d ever experienced before.

  The last chords faded away, barely heard over the roar of the crowd, probably amplified by my feelings. But none of that mattered. Mark rushed on stage with us, pulled away our guitars, and dragged us to our feet. We bowed a few times, then I felt Matt take my hand. I turned to him, looking up at him curiously.

  The sounds of the people around us disappeared. Matt reached for me, grabbed my other hand, and pulled me to him, his eyes full of tenderness.

  “Samara Oldroyd, I love you.”

  It was the first time he’d ever said my name. Samara. I gazed into his eyes, feeling my heart opening to him completely, the pain of the past month leaving, healing, as he drew close, bending his face toward mine.

  Our lips met right as the curtains fell, and we shared the sweetest kiss I’d ever had. It was simple and beautiful, full of adoration and trust and love. The warmth of his lips on mine and his arms around me sent shivers down my spine.

  Suddenly, I heard someone in the audience screaming, and Matt and I pulled apart. Of course it was Molly as she figured out what was going on between Matt and me.

  “I can’t believe I put up with that for even a week and a half,” Matt said.

  “You get used to it.” I laughed. “Uh . . . that doesn’t mean I want you to date her again.”

  Matt laughed with me and leaned in for another kiss.

  I might not have had Julliard anymore, but I had Matt. And I knew everything else would work out just fine.

  THE END

  Note from the author:

  Thank you so much for reading Samara: A Kilenya Romance! I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, please help me spread the word about it by posting an honest review on Amazon, Facebook, Goodreads, or wherever else you think is appropriate. Authors love and appreciate it when their readers recommend books to others. :-)