Rock Candy Kisses

by Addison Moore

  Future husband? Kaya’s eyes enlarge as she quickly sizes him up. Annie is anything if she’s not subtle. Nice to meet you. I like my eggs sunny side up and served with two slices of bacon—make that four. I’m up for a destination wedding, but I’m open to locations.

  Nice to meet you, and does France sound okay? Tristan raises his brows.

  They share a laugh, and there’s already a tenderness between them that has me feeling like a third wheel. Tristan hasn’t once taken his eyes off her. Maybe there really is something brewing here?

  Kaya laughs and signs back, but I don’t catch it because my eyes are fixed on a heart-stopping site straight ahead.

  I’ll be right back. I tell them, but they’re so wrapped up in banter they hardly notice.

  A familiar leather jacket stands with his back to me. Blake stares up at Prescott Hall, in the general direction of my dorm room as if he’s trying to speak to me telepathically. There he is. My body slaps with shock. Over the months we were together he had seen every part of me, my heart and soul included. I was exposed bare to Blake, far more than to anyone before and perhaps even myself. I trusted my heart to this person I had known for such a brief amount of time, and I gave him my body! The mournful hilarity of it all is too much to bear. But the truth is, Blake cannot be classified as something so simplistic as “this person.” He’s a part of me now, a part of my story of the fabric of my being. For so long he was the compass to every one of my heart beats—and as unfair as it may seem, still is. He had laid the deepest bruise over my existence, one which might never heal. In a strange way, I hope it won’t. I want to drink down the pain, the gutting grief, a little here and there, when I need it, so hopefully this entire tragedy will never play out again. Sometimes pain is the most respected teacher.

  My heart drums into my throat. A part of me wants to do this—so I do.

  The wind slices through me with its razor sharp teeth as I make my way over. I offer a quick tap to his shoulder. I’m sure Blake is used to girls tapping him on the shoulder to get his attention, especially the pregnant ones. Wait, that’s not right. But I’m too hopped up on adrenaline to care.

  “Annie?” He wraps his arms around me so fast it’s as if I’ve just come back from the dead. Blake feels intensely solid, intensely mine. I take in the strong scent of his cologne, the familiar scent of leather, the slight hint of musk from his hair, and feel the tears burn under my lids. I pull back and carefully remove his arms from my body.

  “I just want to say thank you.” My chest flashes with heat. I haven’t spoken since that day I yelled at him—correction, screamed. I’ve only done that a handful of times before and usually that was directed at my brothers.

  His eyes narrow with sorrow as his hand cups my cheek. “My God, you have a beautiful voice. But I’m sure there is nothing to thank me for.” His gaze falls to the ground.

  “You made me brave.” I can feel my voice warbling in and out of a whisper. “I’m doing my oral report for Digital Studios next Friday.” I try to even out my tone the way the way the countless hours of speech therapy taught me. “Without you, I wouldn’t be doing it.” I don’t tell him about the surgery. “Good luck to you with everything.” I turn to go, and he wraps his arms around me from behind. Blake buries his face in my hair a moment.

  I twist into him, careful not to touch my lips to his. It would be too easy to fall back into old habits. I’m not sure I could control myself if that were to happen. I might ravage him. Take him right here in the middle of campus for all of Whitney Briggs to see.

  Blake pulls back slowly, his fingers the last to drip from mine. “Can we go someplace to talk? I’ll buy coffee.” He tilts his head, pleading. There’s a desperation I’ve never seen in his eyes.

  “I have to go.” I’m right back to whispering.

  He gives a simple nod. “Good luck on your speech, Annie. I know you’ll kill it. And in case I don’t get to say it”—his lips pinch—“I’m proud of you.” Blake steps in and bears into me. “I love you, Annie. I will always love you.”

  I turn around and run back toward Kaya and Tristan.

  If I didn’t get out of there quick, I might have said those words right back.

  Blake

  My heart, soul, and ironically, the carriage house are all empty without Annie in my life. But the carriage house, however, is chock full of the baby gear Roxy and Cole helped haul into this tiny space a few days ago. After my relationship with Annie detonated in a shower of sparks, no thanks to her brothers, and mostly me, Roxy came by with her boyfriend ready to beat my balls in. Lucky for me and my balls, they listened, and I somehow managed to vomit out the truth. I made them swear they wouldn’t tell Annie. It’s something I need to do when the time is right, something I should have done when we were still new, but the truth is a slippery bitch that never wants to be held when Annie is around. Nevertheless, in a miraculous turn of events, Roxy’s heart exploded as large as the carriage house, and she took some of the proceeds from her last baking event and went to a thrift store and bought out the baby section. Cole said she might be nesting. Whatever that is, it worked in my favor. As much as my pride didn’t want to accept anything from them, I knew this would all be needed in a few short weeks so I tucked my balls between my legs and said thank you.

  A firm knock vibrates through the door. I speed over in the event it’s Annie and peer out the window.

  I swing it open and frown at my brother. “It’s just you.”

  “Happy Thanksgiving to you, too.” His lips expand with a bleak smile. “Let’s see what I’m thankful for this year…oh, yes—your poor attitude.” He socks me in the arm before pulling me into a partial hug. “Get over yourself, will you? You have a lot to be grateful for.”

  “Name it.”

  “Okay, I will.” He wanders in, and I shut the door with my foot. “For one, I’ve decided to give you your Christmas gift a little early this year.”

  “If it shits in the yard, I don’t want it.”

  “No, this one shits in the toilet.” He sits down and slaps the seat next to him. “Take a load off.”

  I head over and plop down. “First Thanksgiving that I haven’t had a bite of turkey, and I still feel like all I want to do is sleep.”

  “I figured so. How about you rake a comb through your hair, and I’ll take you out for a bite.”

  I press my head into the sofa and close my eyes. “Not until I get my gift.”

  “All right. Her name is Beretta.”

  “A gun? You got me a gun?” Does Wyatt know something I don’t?

  “I got you a nanny. And before your mind drifts into the gutter, no, she’s not hot. Not unless you’re into sixty-five year-olds who wear ugly sweaters year round. She’s good people. Came highly recommended from friends of mine. She’ll do light cleaning and cooking. She doesn’t work weekends, so we’re on our own.”

  “Back it up. We?”

  “Yeah, we. I’m pitching in. I think what you’re doing is noble. And, believe me, I get why you’re doing it. If there’s anything I can do to help out, I’m going to do it. You have my full support, little bro.” He softly digs his fist in my arm. “You know I love you.”

  “I love you, too, man.” I lean in and give him a strong hug. Normally, I wouldn’t have said I love you. Normally, I wouldn’t be hugging Wyatt like this, but Benji was here one minute and gone the next, and saying I love you and hugging him are two things I wish we would have done daily. Of course, he would have called me a pussy and kicked the shit out of me for touching him, but it might have been worth it. Hell, I know it would have. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He slaps me over the back. “Now grab your jacket. We’re going turkey hunting downtown. Oh, and Blake?”

  I pause from snatching my jacket off the table.

  “The nanny comes under one condition.”

  Here we go. “What’s that?”

  “You go back to school. You have two years left, and I want you to knoc
k ‘em out.”

  School. A dull smile rides on my face. “You’re right, this is like Christmas.”

  The smile glides off his face as he shakes his head. “I’m sorry I can’t give you what you want most.”

  Wyatt can never give me Annie. I had taken everything we had and erased it with my own omission.

  No one is sorrier than me.

  * * *

  Another week drifts by, and I can’t seem to get Annie Edwards out of my head—don’t want to. She’s saturated my thoughts, bled through the pattern of the clouds, I see her smiling face in the evergreens, when I close my eyes, she’s right there waiting for me behind my lids. Every sleepless night, all I can think about is how bad I fucked things up. The irony of it all is that I did it with silence.

  I pound my palm into the steering wheel. Frustration has become my closest companion. The only way to lift this fever in my life is Annie’s forgiveness. I’ve become rabid for exactly that.

  It’s the last day of classes before Whitney Briggs breaks for Christmas. Annie mentioned last week that she was going to give an oral presentation in her Digital Studios class, and, as soon as she mentioned it, I knew I wanted to be there—out of sight of course, but I’d die before I missed it. It’s a stalker-like thing to do. I know it. But for some reason this doesn’t seem to deter me. I’ve made every excuse to head over to campus since our breakup, even made a point of eating dinner in the food court each and every night just hoping to bump into her.

  I head into the parking lot and jump out of my truck. A light snowfall quietly sprinkles to the ground like it did that last night we were together.

  Doris Hall looms before me like a relic from some long forgotten era in my life. I have Annie’s schedule memorized, the school mapped out to where she might be at any given hour. As much as I respect her desire to keep our distance, I want to be there, unseen, unheard, lingering like a ghost who wants nothing more than to support her in some capacity. I’m the first guy she let into her life—her body—and I’m sure she’s in deep regret on both counts. A flood of students make their way inside. Class is getting ready to begin. As much as I don’t want to miss a second, the last thing I want to do is rattle her. There’s no way she can know I’m here. I give it a few minutes before making my way into the building, shaking the snow off my shoulders as I head down the hall.

  A familiar looking dude looks my way before doing a double take.

  It’s Frenchie.

  “Hey, you”—he goes from Mr. Nice Guy to bouncer in zero point five—“what the hell are you doing here?” He looks back to the classroom, making sure Annie is nowhere in sight. He seems to care about her. For all I know I might be staring at my replacement. For a moment I envision them far into the future with a house, white picket fence, two kids, two dogs, the whole deal. It unsettles me, makes me want to wrap my hands around his neck because I know it’s a possibility. But as much as I want to hate him, he seems decent. He’s everything I’m not in a nutshell—clean cut, wire-rimmed glasses, built sturdy as a bookshelf.

  “I’m not here to do anything.” I glance past him. “Don’t tell her you saw me. I’ll be gone in a minute.” That’s not entirely true. I did bring her a gift I’ve been meaning to give her. It may have involved a small altercation with my father and a stray dog named Jeff, but Annie was worth the scuffle. I’m not sure how I’m going to gift it to her. If nothing else, I can leave it for her at the bar. But that’s not what I’m hoping. In fact, that’s the worst-case scenario.

  Johanna, the bitch on heels that tried to squash Annie’s feelings like a bug, comes over and slings her arm around me.

  “Hey, big boy.” She plants a wet one on my cheek. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

  “Oh.” Tristan blinks in surprise. “I thought you were here for Annie.” He looks from Johanna to me. “Never mind.” He goes to leave, and I pull him back a second.

  I dart my eyes into each of his pleading for some kind of brotherly connection, any ounce of mercy he might be willing to show me.

  “How is she?”

  “She’s good.” The muscles in his jaw flex, and he looks perturbed like I might be stepping on his toes. “Her head’s all messed up. You hurt her pretty bad. Stay the fuck away—‘kay?” He speeds into class without waiting for a response.

  “I’d better go.” Johanna runs her finger along my jawline. “Don’t worry about that girl. I’ve got ways to make you forget she ever existed.” She dips her forefinger into her mouth before trying to jam it in mine, and I stop her.

  “You want to do me a favor?”

  “Anything for you, sugar.” She leans in and takes a bite out of my ear.

  “Be nice to Annie. She’s a great girl, and you’d be lucky to call her a friend.”

  Her face sours as she takes back her hand.

  “Boy, you’ve got it bad.” She pivots on her heels and heads into class.

  “Don’t I know it,” I whisper, leaning against the wall right outside the room. As much as I’d love to see Annie give her speech, I don’t want her to see me. The last thing I want to do is throw her for a loop.

  A few girls go first—talking mostly of football games and homecoming. A couple of guys go next, same stuff repackaged. Another girl heads up, whispering so low that for a second I think it might be Annie. I carefully take a quick peek only to see it’s Johanna, shitting her pants in the front of the class. Her face is slap-cheek red, her lips tremble, her hands shake so hard her paper is fidgeting. How’s that for an interesting turn of events? I guess it’s pretty easy to pick on someone with a disability but hard to come across well-spoken and confident in a room full of your peers. I want to laugh but can’t. The girl is clearly in pain. After several minutes, the teacher thanks the class for their presentations and commends them to offer one another a final round of applause.

  Did I miss Annie?

  “Excuse me,” a female voice struggles to pierce through the dull clapping. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to give my presentation as well.”

  The room stills. All I hear is the sound of my own breathing, loud as panting into a microphone.

  It’s her. Annie had the balls to stick up for herself after the professor all but dismissed her.

  “Please, Ms. Edwards, take your rightful place at the front of the class. We’re honored to hear your oral presentation.”

  At least he’s got the decency to show her some respect. Swear to God, if I hear one person so much as giggle I’m storming in and rattling a few heads together.

  “Hello. My name is Annie Edwards, and I was born profoundly deaf.”

  A pang of grief, of relief, of pride and admiration ride through me all at once. Her voice is perfect. Her octave a little louder than the other girls, but that’s because she’s confident. You can see she’s making an effort to annunciate, to project and make sure she’s heard all the way in the back of the room, and, lucky for me, the hall.

  “My first day at Whitney Briggs was, in a lot of ways, my first day in the real world. For most of my life I’ve attended the Quincy School for the Deaf and Hard of Hearing. Deaf Culture was an immersion process there. I knew no other life except for the safety and shelter of my own community, populated with others that share my condition. On my first day at Whitney Briggs, I was nearly run over by a service truck on its way to the food court to make its daily delivery. I didn’t hear the truck driver honking at me and was unaware that such vehicles were allowed on campus during school hours. As fate would have it, a very nice boy swept me off my feet, literally, and brought me to safety.”

  The class fills with a choir of aww!

  “That moment, something else happened to me that was life changing. Not only did this boy teach me a valuable lesson about campus safety, we ended up dating, and he taught me a valuable lesson in love as well.”

  My heart breaks because the lesson didn’t end well. Did the lesson end? I want to smile and insist it didn’t.

  “This is a
picture of the first sunset we shared. I had to take it with my phone. Sorry about the selfie. As you can see, he’s pretty cute.” A soft round of laughter floats through the room. A few people let out a catcall or two. “As our feelings for one another increased so did the locations of our dates. His brother’s ranch, the coffee shop where we had a brief yet violent encounter with my over protective big brothers.” More laughter. “This is one of my favorite shots—serving dinner at the homeless shelter together.” A few moments of silence. I can see the light dim and brighten as she flashes picture after picture on the overhead monitor. “This is the Black Bear Saloon. I’ve sort of saved these pictures for last because they mean so much to me.” The room darkens and brightens again. “He’s the lead singer of the 12 Deadly Sins, and although I cannot hear the beautiful music which so many of you enjoy, I was able to sit and feel the vibrations from the speakers pulsating through me. It was as if he was pouring his voice inside of me, and, for those brief moments, we were one being. I don’t really know what music sounds like. I can only imagine the sound of his voice when he sings—but, when it strums through me, I can honestly say that it feels like magic. He put his soul into every lyric. I could feel it. Literally.” Another moment of silence drifts by, and the world starts to blur through the tears pooling in my eyes. Annie has me gutted. Her presentation is the best gift she could have given me. A precious accounting of our time together—of our love. But I know what’s coming. It doesn’t end well—nothing ever does for me. “One last picture.” The class breaks out in another choir of aww as if they were admiring kitten porn. I’m curious, so I peer in. There we are, tangled in one another’s arms, my head touching hers, my eyes closed. It looks as if it could have been taken just about anywhere, but I know where that was taken—my bed, the first night I made her mine.

  “I learned a lot of lessons this, my first semester at Whitney Briggs, and not all of them were delivered in the classroom. If I could tell you one thing that I’ll take with me the rest of my scholastic years—and for the rest of my life—it’s to make the most of the people, the opportunities, of the love you have in your life because classes finish, people change, one semester turns into the next—sometimes relationships end and you have to move on.” A gut wrenching silence comes over the class as the gravity of what she’s saying sinks in.