Still Into You

by Andrews, Ryleigh

  “Oh, of course,” she said and then rattled off her address and her new cell phone number. He wrote them in the book, placed the pen in the spine, and closed it. A smile warmed his face as well as the room. He really did have perfect teeth.

  She had an overwhelming desire to kiss him, to lose herself in the physicality she knew he could provide. Her body took over and she started to lean into him, her eyes locked on his. Her heart fluttered erratically when his smile grew bigger. He stepped forward and pulled her almost flush against his body. He leaned his head towards her, his eyes locked on her mouth. With one last look at his fast approaching lips, she closed her eyes, awaiting his kiss.

  God, they were really going to kiss again and there was actual freaking music playing like a goddamn movie in her head. Her eyes bolted open.

  Music? What?

  “Fuck,” she muttered when she realized the music was actually the ring tone she had for all her bandmates. This call equaled trouble.

  “Your phone?”

  “Yes. I’ve got to get that,” she answered, pulling her phone from her back pocket and walked a few feet away from Tom. “Hello?”

  “Where the fuck are you, brat? I thought we said nine,” Marty roared over the line.

  “We did,” she grimaced, feeling bad for being late again. She’d been a bad bandmate lately with all her Ethan drama, her drinking and drug use, and then there was all the press attention following them now.

  “So it’s after ten. Where the fuck are you? Obviously not here,” he said, sarcasm rolling like waves at her over the phone.

  “I’m on my way. Fifteen minutes.”

  That would only be true if she made every green light and averaged at least fifty miles per hour. Marty grumbled something and hung up on her. She returned her cell to her pocket and rubbed her forehead in frustration.

  Glancing over at Tom, she explained her situation. “So, I’ve got to go.”

  “Yeah . . . I heard Marty yell all the way from over here.”

  “I’m impressed that you recognized it was Marty.”

  “He’s loud.”

  As much as she wanted to continue what was likely to happen, Mia needed to leave or face Marty’s wrath. Because if she touched his lips she would not leave, she’d lose herself in it. And damn, she needed to get lost.

  “So, I’ll see you Monday?” she asked as he led her to the exit.

  “Count on it. One p.m.”

  She rose on her tip-toes and kissed his cheek. “Bye, Tom,” she said, smiling at him before ducking out of the building and off to face the wrath of Marty.

  The next morning, Mia awoke to the blaring sound of her alarm. Quickly silencing the annoying racket, she dropped her head back to her plush pillow. She no longer felt like spinning in happy circles and just wanted to go back to bed. She had stayed up late the night before composing some music for a new song she’d been working on. Remembering the excitement she’d felt to share this with the band, she sat up in bed, pulling her legs in front of her, and noticed all the sheet music spread out on the blankets. Yeah, she probably passed out last night. She’d been tired enough. When she got home yesterday evening, the first thing she did was set her alarm so she wouldn’t be late again. Marty had not been happy when her fifteen minutes turned into almost forty on top of the hour she was already late. He’d laid into her about responsibilities to not just herself, but the band. Guilt trip!

  So instead of hiding under the covers, she gathered her lyrics and music and put them in a pile at the end of the bed. She threw her legs over the edge of the bed and stretched away the sleep, closing her eyes at the pleasure of her taut muscles. Hopping down, eyes still closed, Mia took a step towards the bathroom. Her foot connected with something solid on the floor, causing her to trip, falling against her chair, her right knee knocking the floor hard.

  Crying out in pain, she quickly turned over, taking the pressure off her knee, and discovered she’d tripped over her old acoustic guitar. “Shit!” she exclaimed, rubbing her sore knee. She glared at her guitar before pushing herself up and carefully walking to the bathroom, her eyes darting all around her, on the lookout for more hazards.

  She got ready without further incident, grabbed her notebook and her papers, and tossed them into her old backpack. On the way to the studio, she stopped at a drive-thru Starbucks by her house and ordered a Venti-sized coffee as well as a blueberry muffin. She’d need a lot of caffeine to make it through today.

  A cloud in the sky couldn’t be found. Mia rolled down the window and let the sun beat down on her while she drove to the studio. She hoped it stayed like this because a run along the lakefront sounded like the perfect ending to her day. It had been awhile since she had done that.

  When she arrived, she found that she’d beat Marty to the studio. With a smug smile, she threw her backpack to the floor and plopped down on the worn leather sofa and enjoyed her muffin and coffee while she waited for people to arrive.

  About fifteen minutes later, her muffin gone, Marty showed up, a look of surprise on his face. “You’re here?”

  “Yup! I’ve got a new song!”

  His eyes perked up and he sat down next to her. “Oh, yeah?”

  Nodding, she reached for her bag. She rifled through it and pulled out the sheets and handed them to him. As he read, she nervously chatted.

  “I don’t have all the lyrics yet, but I’ve got a few verses and a chorus . . .”

  “I like what I see. Now it’s time to see if I like what I hear.” Marty got up and crossed the room to the sound lock and into the studio. He grabbed his acoustic guitar and came back. Pulling a chair from the control panel, he sat across from her, strumming his guitar, making a few adjustments until it sounded just right.

  “Sing with me,” he ordered and then started playing. Mia listened and counted the notes and then began to sing.

  Lyin’ awake

  Can’t shake

  That’s something’s wrong with you and me

  Me and you.

  I try to talk

  But you must walk

  And then we fight with all our might

  All our might.

  Talk to me

  I’m on my knees

  Please talk to me, talk to me

  Stop pushing me aside

  Do you have something to hide?

  Deflect my queries

  Correct my worries

  Ignore everything I’m trying to say

  That’s not okay.

  She envisioned the acoustic guitar playing, followed by another, then Todd coming in with his beat, then Clark with his bass and Marty with the electric guitar coming in right before the chorus.

  Her eyes locked on Marty, watching for a reaction—anything. And then it happened—a smile.

  “I like that, brat. A lot.”

  She smiled proudly. Creating music with Marty was something she loved to do and when he liked something she wrote, the pleased feeling she got from it was kind of like a high. Mia looked up to him and hated what happened yesterday, how she disappointed him. He was that big brother she idolized and didn’t want to let him down.

  They talked through his vision of the song and they were in sync. When the rest of the band arrived, they played the song for them. For the rest of the morning and much of the afternoon, the band worked on that song. And by the time she was ready to leave, the song was really taking shape. Part of her wanted to stay and work on it, but they had been in the studio all week and she was ready for a break.

  A good, long run was just what she needed to help her relax. But when Mia arrived home, the paparazzi were loitering outside her house. She continued down the street and made her way to the alley, thankful that no photographers were staked out there.

  Mia wouldn’t let the paparazzi ruin this day. She would still go for a run. After making her way inside, she changed into her running clothes, securing her iPod in its arm case. She headed out the back, sneaking down her alley to the lakefront, ecstatic that
she gave the damn paparazzi the slip. Completely in a zone, not letting anything disturb her, not wanting to think, she just listened to music and ran.

  Mia ran for a long time, about an hour, and as she walked back down her alley, her legs felt weak. She had pushed herself too far. After opening the large, black gate leading to her yard, she stepped through and went past the basketball court towards the patio. Lifting her foot to walk up the steps into her house, her jelly legs didn’t cooperate with her, causing her to trip and scrape her left knee on the concrete.

  “Fuck!” Mia cursed, sitting down to check out the damage. She flinched when her fingers grazed the wound. A twenty-nine-year-old with a skinned knee that was bleeding all over. Entering her house to get a paper towel to stop the bleeding, she didn’t even know if she had any bandages.

  “Today just sucks!” she announced to no one. Her house had it in for her.

  Checking the kitchen and the main floor bathroom for bandages, she found nothing. Maybe her master bathroom would have some.

  “Why did I buy a three-story house?” she said to herself as she hobbled up the stairs to her bedroom.

  She decided to take a quick shower after finding some little girl bandages leftover from when Kaitlyn visited her last.

  “Whatever!” Mia bellowed as she affixed a couple pink bandages to her skinned knee and then went about getting dressed. She threw on a pair of old sweats in case the blood soaked through the bandages, as well as a tight Cubs T-shirt.

  Heading back to her bedroom, she situated herself on the chaise lounge by the fireplace. As she rested her head back, her phone beeped. With a sigh, she rose from the comfortable seat and grabbed the phone from the nightstand.

  Mia smiled in surprise when she saw a text from Ethan. She opened it up and saw only a text heart, <3.

  Returning to the chair, she stared at the text and smiled so wide her face ached. She sighed happily—a heart. Despite breaking their engagement, he’d still sent her that.

  That had been one of the hardest things Mia had ever done. It had been two weeks since she last spoke to him—or really thought about him. She’d been going with the ignore-it game plan because whenever he crossed her mind, she hurt. And she didn’t want to hurt anymore.

  But this . . . she didn’t want to ignore this. Pulling up the keyboard, she tapped out a reply to him.

  Ethan

  April 4, 2008, 726 PM

  Is that all I get?

  She held her phone in her hand, hoping for an immediate reply, which she got.

  I gave you my heart . . . what else?

  Running her hand through her hair, Mia re-read the text. Knowing that she broke that heart made her uncomfortable. It hurt. That even after all that pain and drama, he was still willing to give her his heart. She needed to lighten the mood or they wouldn’t be talking very long.

  I was just looking for a ‘Hi. How are you?’ But I’ll keep the heart. Thank you.

  Oh . . . I was getting to that. Hi . . . how have you been?

  Hi. :) I was in need of your text tonight.

  . . . . . .

  Is that code for me to elaborate?

  Yes

  Well, it’s just been an all-around bad day.

  Tell me about it.

  She could hear him say that to her, his sexy accent all empathetic. He’d probably take her hand as she talked, calming her with his errant thumb caressing hers.

  Well, first off, I tripped after I got out of bed.

  Ouch. You okay? (totally laughing)

  LOL. Yes! Just fell into the chair on my side of the bed.

  What did you trip over?

  Uh . . .

  Yes?

  Mia was totally embarrassed to admit what happened. Her cheeks flushed and he wasn’t even here. Not able to even type it, she snapped a picture of her guitar on the floor by the chair and sent it to him.

  You didn’t see that?

  No. It was dark.

  I seriously doubt that. 29-yr-old with a night light.

  Good point, Ethan, she thought to herself.

  LOL! OK, so it wasn’t dark . . . I was just super sleepy.

  Why were you so tired?

  I haven’t been sleeping very well.

  Why?

  Because I can’t seem to shut off my brain when I lay down in bed.

  You should do something to relax before you go to bed.

  Like?

  She knew one thing that always relaxed her, but the man who normally provided her with that was a couple hundred miles away. And why was he taking so long to text back?

  Self-soothe?

  She stared at his text and blushed. Self-soothe . . . did he mean what she thought he meant?

  That’s never been my strong suit.

  No?

  Uh . . . no.

  Is this self-soothing talk making you uncomfortable?

  No.

  Liar.

  Hush, you!

  Haha!

  Still can’t believe you didn’t see the guitar.

  I think my eyesight may be pretty bad actually.

  Well . . . they have these people called optometrists. You should go to one.

  Maybe you’re right.

  It’s been known to happen.

  So what else happened?

  Uh, well, I went for a run along the lakefront. And as I was trying to be sneaky coming in the back, I fell going up the patio steps. I scraped my knee. Lots of blood. :(

  Aww. Kisses it.

  :) thank you

  Why were you being sneaky?

  Uh, let me show you.

  She walked to the window and took a picture of the paparazzi camped outside of her house and sent it to him. Their numbers increased as the day went on. Probably waiting for her to go out on a Friday night. Sorry, fellas. Totally lame rock star here.

  Oh damn! Really? How long have they been there?

  Basically since I’ve been back. I need a break from them.

  I can imagine.

  She had an insane desire to hear his voice. Needed it like air. Hell, she just needed him. But . . . and there it was, the but. She needed to face her miserable childhood, but Mia was far from ready and didn’t know when she would be either. So in the meantime, she wanted to talk to him, hear his soothing voice. With an exhale, she decided to test the waters.

  Are you able to talk or . . .

  And not long after sending her text, her phone started to ring. Mia picked it up and answered it.

  “Hi,” she said, her face flushed with happiness.

  “Hi,” Ethan said, his usually faint Southern drawl surprisingly strong. He sounded so good. Ever since that night in Amsterdam, when he told her over Skype what he wanted to do to her, she had a greater appreciation for just how sexy and completely masculine his voice was.

  “Why didn’t you call in the first place?”

  “I didn’t want to intrude.”

  “Ethan, that’ll never be the case!”

  His sigh hit her ear and she frowned. In her mind, she saw him running his hand through his hair, frustrated.

  All because of her.

  “I don’t know the rules for this,” he admitted.

  “Neither do I.”

  “Mia . . .” he paused, silent for a moment. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what you want. I don’t know how I’m supposed to act. I mean, can I tell you I miss you?”

  “Yes.” His admission had tears rushing to her eyes. She missed him too.

  “What about that I miss sleeping next to you?”

  She swallowed, her teeth skimming her bottom lip. She missed that too. “You can.”

  “Can I tell you that I miss sex with you? That I miss the feel of your body against mine? The warmth when I’m inside of you? The way you always rest your hand above my heart after we’re done?”

  Her tears came faster now. With a tremulous breath, she answered him. “You can.”

  “Am I supposed to cut you out of my life? Is that what I’m supp
osed to do? Is that what you wanted?”

  “No!” she exclaimed, scared. She wanted him to move on, to not wait for her. But to cut her out of his life completely—no. That was something she did not want.

  “I couldn’t do that anyway. I love you too much,” he said, his voice thick and unsteady. He exhaled shakily.

  “I love you, too,” she said, her voice cracking, tears slipping from her eyes, splashing on her bare arm.

  “So, I don’t get it then, Mia. We love each other! I don’t understand why we’re apart. I don’t know why we’re doing this. I hear your tears and it kills me that I am not there with you. I belong with you. Don’t you get that? Don’t you see it?”

  She didn’t know what to say to that. Here he was, declaring he still loved her and wanted to be with her, but what her parents put her through still chained her down. She needed to figure out how to cut the chain. Only then could she give all of herself to Ethan—like he deserved.

  Wiping the tears from her eyes in frustration, she sniffled as they remained quiet, each in their own thoughts.

  “Mia, I’m sorry I laid out all my frustration on you.”

  She shook her head. “No. You are entitled to it. I needed to hear it as a reminder.”

  “We really do belong together, you know,” he reminded her.

  “I know,” she replied, chucking at the lightness in his voice.

  “You know,” he said and she smiled hearing the happiness there, thankful that she could give him something, because it seemed as of late all she could do was the opposite. She wanted to get back to the time when all she saw on his face was a smile. But first, there were things she had to do.

  “Please. Just give me some time.”

  The line was silent for a minute and she could sense his frustration over the phone. He was completely in the dark. She knew he needed something from her.

  “Have you thought about talking to me?” he asked, breaking the silence.

  She smiled sadly, knowing he was right. She was afraid to even broach the topic. It scared her that much. That’s why she drowned it out. To remember that you weren’t wanted, weren’t loved. To grow up starved for affection and doing anything to get it.