Rock Candy Kisses

by Addison Moore

  “Can you believe this band!” Marley beams practically shaking me by the shoulders before her expression drops. “Oh, I’m so sorry!”

  “It’s okay,” I mouth. “I love them.” Well, the idea of them. They gave me good vibrations, I want to say, but I’m sure the idea sounds a bit too esoteric at the moment—or sexual. Marley has a way of turning even the most innocent thought into a vision of X-rated delight. Before I can say another word, I spot Tristan making his way over. The band cuts out, and the normal vibratory sounds emit from the speakers. I know for a fact that Holt has music streaming from the moment this place opens right up until the crew closes for the night.

  I make a face at Marley. It’s too late to text her about Tristan. We’ll have to work out a code for get me out of this predicament.

  Tristan gives a quick wave, and I motion for him to introduce himself to Marley. She nods toward him politely and smiles, but I can tell by the look on her face she’s sizing up the situation.

  “Oh, you’re that Tristan!” Her eyes grow wide as she realizes it’s the poor boy I expended my very first lie to. I couldn’t feel like a bigger ass if I tried.

  “So is your boyfriend here?” Tristan glances around fully expecting to see a living, breathing, male who might actually be in a commitment of some sort with me. I eye Cole for a moment, but that would be weird, and I’d hate to be cut off from my cupcake supplier so soon.

  A gaggle of blondes head in this direction, and then I see him. It’s the boy with the eyes, the boy with the band, the boy whose mouth moves like a poem come to life as he leans into the mike, the one whose large and in charge of the 12 Deadly Sins. My stomach does a hard flop reminiscent of the stomach flu. I’m pretty sure hot boys are not supposed to remind you of a twenty-four hour puking session.

  “Can I talk to you for a minute?” I can read his lips clearly. I’ve already committed them to memory. His eyes are lined with black kohl, and it only makes him that much more absurdly handsome. This is definitely a look that he should pull off often if not daily. My mind drifts a moment as I envision him dipping into my makeup bag before I notice that he’s still waiting for me to answer his question. I go to shake my head, but Tristan opens his mouth instead.

  “Are you the boyfriend?” He offers him a hand before he can refute it.

  Marley’s mouth drops as she glances from the singer to me.

  My palms grow sweaty, and the camera nearly slips from my grasp. I knew I shouldn’t have come tonight. On top of everything else poor Tristan here will discover that the girl he’s committed to assisting for the next four years is a barefaced liar. I can’t help it, though—a part of me doesn’t want him ogling me for the next half decade. At the moment, it did seem the only logical way out.

  The boy with the marbled eyes looks from me to Tristan then back to me with an extended pause. His eyes singe into mine like flames, and I have to blink just to keep from fainting. What the hell has gotten into me today?

  He nods into Tristan. “I am the boyfriend. Nice to meet you.”

  Blake

  Here she is, the mystery girl who threw my entire day for a loop. I tried to chase her down, but she zigged and zagged so fast I lost sight of what building she flew into. And here I was afraid I had imagined her, I thought for sure all that adrenaline pumping through me was making me see what I wanted, skewing my perspective of reality. Reality hasn’t been so great as of late. But she’s here, every bit as beautiful as I remember and then some.

  The dude I met a second ago, Tristan, turns his attention to a couple of girls I’ve been trying to shake. I’ve seen them here before—all tits and heels—curling their finger at me with one hand and a condom in the next. After each set I get a few invites, hell, who am I kidding, a few dozen invites for whatever my hard-up soul desires, but I’ve been laying off the rock candy ever since Benji died. He always did tell me I screwed around too much. He was the voice of reason for most of my life. Who knew it would take his death to turn me into some poster boy for celibacy. And as much as the girl standing before me seems like the cure, there’s a sweetness to her I can’t quite put my finger on. Something tells me she won’t be laying out any triple X offers tonight. But after years of jockeying bitter, easy women, God knows I’m craving a little sugar—someone down home and sweet.

  I lead her to the entry away from the bustle, away from Tristan and the blowjob posse that’s surrounded him. He can thank me later. He seems like a nice guy, and if he plays his cards right those two blondes will be equally as nice to him.

  “What’s your name?” I can’t help but grin like a fool at the gorgeous girl in front of me. She’s a foot shorter. Her lips are still in kissing range of mine, and I’m not above testing the theory. Her glossy light brown waves trickle down her back, and I fight not to dig my fingers through them. Her eyes practically glow in the dark like blue electric pools. I can’t seem to cut my gaze loose. And, judging by the way her lips are sealed tight, I’m guessing she’s shy as hell. Lucky for me I have nothing against a little social discomfort. I’m all about helping people loosen up. Not to mention, I’m boisterous enough for the both of us.

  Her chest expands as she swallows. She gives a nervous glance past my shoulder as if she’s laying low. Her lips pinch into a restrained smile before she shakes her head and bolts out the door.

  “Whoa, where you going?” I follow her out into the biting night air. I can’t remember the last time I was shut out like that. She just dented my ego and took off in a hit and run rejection that I hadn’t experienced in years, if ever. A quiet laugh strums through me. I’m okay with the chase. It’s a game I’m not too familiar with, but for her I’m willing to rewrite a couple of rules.

  It’s clear out, cold as shit. You can smell the storm coming in. We’ll be drenched by midnight.

  She plucks her phone out and starts texting—an extension of giving me the cold shoulder I presume. Oddly, it doesn’t feel rude. She’s as gorgeous as she is sweet, and I think I just might be getting the nicest kiss off known to man. Still doesn’t make that grinding feeling in my balls any better.

  “Hey”—I pant, keeping stride with her—“did I do something wrong?” She doesn’t look up, just keeps clicking into her phone a mile a minute. “I mean, I did sort of save your life today. I would think that would at least warrant a thank you.” A sheepish smile takes over my face. I don’t really want or need a thank you. And if that’s the best I’ve got, I’m fucked. Half the girls in there were throwing their underwear at me, and this one won’t acknowledge my existence—ironic since she’s the only one I’d gladly take a pair of panties from. If playing hard to get is her game, it’s working. Hell, I’m up for any game she wants to play.

  She flashes her phone at me. Her face glows from the light, perfect and beautiful like an angel, and I don’t want to take my eyes off hers. Reluctantly I glance down.

  Thank you for helping me out this morning. I’m sorry if I seemed rude. I was a little thrown off. My name is Annie, and I’m deaf.

  The smile glides off my face without meaning to. She swallows hard with a slight look of hurt as she tries to head back into the bar.

  “No, no.” I block her path. “Please. It’s nice to meet you.” I hold out my hand, and she takes it hesitantly. “My name is Blake.” For a second I feel foolish saying anything, but, in truth, I’m not sure what to do, and the last thing I want is to shut her out. I search her features as a thousand emotions run through my mind. How can this beautiful girl not hear a word I’m saying, not hear a sound the world has to offer?

  I hold up a finger and pluck out my phone. My name is Blake. It’s very nice to meet you. I stop from adding I’m sorry, even though I am sorry, and heartbroken, and gutted by the fact she can’t hear. I want that for her, and my heart breaks knowing she can’t have it. Would you like to get some coffee? I point to the Starbucks across the street. My treat.

  Her head tips in the slightest hint of a nod, and I carefully pick up her hand. But
it feels natural, and I don’t want to stop.

  “Is this okay?” I mouth.

  She offers a silent laugh and clasps her fingers over mine as we cross the street and head inside. Her hand slips from mine as we place our orders. We get our drinks and find a table near the window. I don’t think I’ve had this much silence with a girl unless our tongues were tied together. I give a pained smile as we stare at one another a moment.

  My fingers fumble for my phone, and she places her hand over it and shakes her head. She pumps out a quick note on her phone.

  I want to try and read your lips. At least in the beginning.

  “Okay, then.” I take a deep breath, that silly grin finds a home on my face again. “Are you sure?”

  Annie nods as a slight dimple lights up her left cheek making her that much more gorgeous than she already is. She’s more than beautiful—not to mention her beauty radiates organically from the inside. It’s clear she’s not the kind of girl I’m usually paired with. I’m used to barracudas ready and willing to tie me to the bedpost. Not that I would protest the idea if she proposed it.

  “Tell me something about yourself.” I can’t help but speak slower, quieter given the circumstances.

  I’m boring. She bites down on a smile as she flashes her phone my way.

  “Not true.” I hold up my phone and twist my lips until she nods for me to use it. I saw you with a camera tonight. Are you into photography?

  My brother Benji was into photography. It was his life’s passion. He wanted to sell his pictures to National Geographic and any other news-worthy entity that would take them. My gut cinches thinking about him. I try to shake him out of my head if only for a moment. Benji hasn’t left my head in weeks, and, strangely enough, there seems to be something about Annie that has the ability to make the agony more bearable. How do I explain to this sweet girl I’m going to need her around for the next few decades just to quell the excruciating pain in my life? I give a bleak smile.

  I love photography. In fact, I think I got a few great shots of you and the band. If you like I can send them. Is that your passion? Music?

  My brows knit tight. “Music is right.” I grimace. “Up until about six weeks ago it was bikes, too. Motorcycles.” She squints as if not catching all the words, so I type it out for her. I grimace as I show her the phone because a part of me knows I just opened up a can of worms that I wish I could jam back in because I know what’s coming next.

  Why are motorcycles suddenly out? Did daddy repossess your Harley? ;)

  I belt out a laugh. Whitney Briggs—Hollow Brook in general, is populated with over privileged kids that skate by drunk off their trust funds. So I can appreciate the humor—especially since I’m out of the demographic.

  My eyes trace out her perfect bow-shaped lips and wonder if I’ll ever get to kiss them. I’ve become ravenous for those lips. There’s something about Annie that sets her in a league of her own, and it has nothing to do with her inability to hear.

  “My brother.” The words jag out of my mouth like a rusted knife. I pump into my phone. He died a few weeks back—crashed into a truck. It was pretty bad, and now he’s gone. I slide it over to her, and for the first time in weeks it feels as if a weight has been lifted. How is that possible? I’ve talked about the accident until I was blue in the face with Olivia, and all it brought was compounded grief.

  Her features morph into horror. I’m so sorry. She’s quick to flash the response. Please accept my condolences. I can see why you would feel that way about motorcycles. That’s very tragic.

  “It is, and I’m sorry I brought it up. Please, tell me something about yourself. You’re a student at Whitney Briggs?” It feels strange mouthing the words to her like this, but to keep her seated across from me, I’d mouth the entire phone book if she wanted me to.

  She nods and points to me as if deflecting the question back.

  Crap. How do I explain that I was on campus because I was dropping my classes? Ratifying my new dropout status. Impressive. I know.

  I take a breath and relax into a smile, something about Annie calms me all the way around. “I’m taking a semester off.” Who knows, I might be back one day. I might be a senior citizen, but it could happen.

  That’s understandable. This is my first day, and I already feel like taking a semester off.

  I wince. My heart wrenches at the thought of her toughing it out at Briggs. You sort of had a rough start, huh? I should know, I witnessed it. That service truck was laying on its horn. I don’t know what the hell the driver was thinking not slowing down. I guess in this world everyone expects the right of way—and for everyone to hear that they have it. Thank God I was there to help. It would have destroyed me to see her hurt. Hell, it would have destroyed her.

  More than you know. She shrugs. My friends told me it would be different. I graduated from Quincy last June. It’s a school for the deaf and hard of hearing. I lived in the dorms during the week, so I guess you can say I was sheltered a bit. It’s a different world at Whitney.

  I nod, fighting the urge to reach over and take up her hand again. Instead, I grab my phone. I know what you mean. It feels like a different world without my brother. I shake my head. So what do you like to do for fun?

  Her face brightens a cute shade of pink. For a second I wonder if she thinks I’m propositioning her, not that I would mind. But a warning in my gut says don’t you dare.

  Annie wriggles her phone in my direction. I read. A. Lot. BTW, I won’t let you shame me out of loving a good literary bad boy.

  “A bad boy, huh?” I type into my phone. Okay, you’re smart. I like that. What do you like to do? What’s the greatest adventure you’ve read about that you’d like to experience?

  Her forehead wrinkles as she bites over that luscious lip again, and my boxers stir to life. I shift in my seat trying to get out of the hard situation blooming in my jeans. Not cool. Clearly I’m going to need a strategy to prevent unwarranted hard-ons from ruining my good time with Annie. I shake my head at the strange idea. Annie has turned my entire thought process upside down.

  I hardly ever go to the beach, but I tend to gravitate toward books set there. As far as adventures go I’d say hot air balloons.

  I whip out a response. As soon as it warms up consider us at the beach. As for Hot air balloons—that sounds perfect, there’s a place near my brother’s ranch. Wyatt—my older brother. Benji, the one who passed away was older, too, but just by eleven months. My grandma used to say my parents didn’t let the sheets cool, a disgusting visual for me at any age. But my grandma, my mother, my brother, they’re all gone now.

  She gives a pained smile.

  He liked to lord it over me, I flash her the phone once again. “My parents didn’t exactly cool the sheets.” Stupid. I cringe. I’m sure my grandmother is cringing somewhere as well. “Sorry, TMI.”

  Her chest trembles with a quiet laugh, and it makes the whole experience feel as if she just stepped out of a silent movie. My heart breaks for her ten times harder at the thought of never hearing her laugh.

  She holds her phone my way. No, that’s okay. I don’t mind. In fact, I’d love to hear more about your brother. And as for the hot air balloon, that sounds like fun. I’m afraid of heights though. She twists her lips as I read it.

  I open my mouth to say something just as the phone buzzes in her hand. Annie holds up a svelte long finger as she reads the incoming text. Her hair falls over her shoulder, shiny, healthy looking compared to the over-processed shit I’m used to. Before Benji died I bedded everything that moved. He hated that about me. He was the one wanting something better for me. It was his death that knocked me off my game once and for all. A dull smile rides up my cheek at the thought. Benji always was the voice of reason.

  Annie pulls her shoulders to her ears. That was my brother. I have two. They can be a bit overprotective.

  “Sounds like a fair warning.” Brothers. Now that’s unchartered territory for me.

  I told them I
was having coffee with a perfect stranger. Emphasis on the perfect. She averts her eyes in a playful manner. I’m just playing. I really do think you’re nice, but I don’t want you to think I’m hitting on you.

  “Oh? I was sort of hoping you were.” I push the words from my lips nice and slow, putting in an extra effort to seduce her.

  Her mouth opens as she blushes ten shades deeper.

  Annie shakes her head as she types something out. I’m just not into boys right now.

  “I get it.” I rest my chin on my hand. “You’re going through a girl phase,” I tease. I really do get what she’s saying, but I’m not buying the brushoff she’s trying to sell. I very much want Annie to be into boys. This boy specifically would be a nice start. And who knows? Maybe even a nice stop.

  Annie shakes her head frantically. Her lips quiver from a smile to a look of fright as she spastically writes out a response.

  I take that back. I am totally into boys. But right now I prefer them between the covers of a book. She takes back her phone and types something else out. Actually, on my Kindle. I’m sort of an e-book hoarder.

  “Boys in books, huh?” I don’t bother hiding my amusement. That’s okay. I prefer my girls between the covers, too. I hold back a smile as I flash my response.

  Annie averts her eyes at my feeble attempt at humor.

  What do you like to read? I flash my phone before taking it back. Let me guess, you’re a little heavy on romance right now?

  Annie holds back a laugh and gives a single nod.

  “That’s cool.” I type away. It just means I have a lot to live up to. I think I’m up for the challenge.

  Her eyes widen a moment, a vibrant shade of blue with just enough lavender to make her seem unreal. I don’t think I’ve seen such beautiful eyes before. I could write a song about them. In fact, I know I will. I reach across the table and pick up her hand again wondering why we have two feet of lacquered wood between us. I hope to God my tried-as-hell brain hasn’t manufactured her. I’ve felt madness skirting around the edges of my psyche since Benji died and with Annie being so perfect I have to wonder if it’s finally settled in.