Audible Love: A Young Adult Romance

by Maggie Dallen

  “I want to do a music video.”

  I wait for him to continue. “Great,” I say.

  “Yeah?” He looks so adorably happy for one second that I realize he’d been nervous that I was going to laugh at him or something. He covers it up quickly, slouching in his seat looking all cool and apathetic but I’ve already seen the soft underbelly, so it’s too late now.

  That hint of vulnerability brings on a surge of affection that makes me want to give him a hug—a hug, which he definitely does not want from me. So I keep my voice even and my tone businesslike instead. “Yeah,” I say. “I think that’s a great idea. I mean, music videos by their very nature are short time-wise, but they can be meaningful films in and of themselves.”

  He’s nodding so enthusiastically I get a flash of what Seth must have been like as a child when he was still filled with wide-eyed wonder rather than ironic apathy. “Exactly.” His words tumble over one another as he rushes into a well thought-out treatise on the music videos as a means of artistic expression.

  Eventually, he shrugs, his expression sheepish. “I may have some strong feelings on this subject, if you couldn’t tell.”

  I laugh and shake my head. “I couldn’t tell at all. That’s some poker face you have there.”

  He grins, his eyes lit up with laughter.

  “Did you have a song in mind?”

  He tilts his head from side to side as if considering. “I’ve got a few ideas,” he starts. He flips open his laptop. “But since you’re so adamant about being a part of this project, I’m thinking we should pick a song that works for you.” He taps some keys on his laptop, and the song that comes blaring out has me gasping in mock outrage even as I laugh.

  “I’m a Barbie girl, in a Barbie world” comes echoing out of his speakers, tinny but unmistakable.

  “Funny.” I know we’re both thinking of that ridiculous moment in the cafeteria. Their words hadn’t hurt so much as the fact that Seth had been beside me hearing it too.

  But now, in a heartbeat, he’d made it funny.

  I focus on my phone, calling up the first burn song that comes to mind. “It’s not a bad idea,” I say with feigned seriousness. “But this is really your baby, so maybe we should stick with something that reflects your whole persona.”

  I hit play and Beck’s “Loser” fills the air, making him laugh outright.

  Next thing you know we’re having a mini battle of the bands, taking turns making fun of each other in song.

  I’m in the middle of playing a snippet of a Beatles’ song about how he has a chip on his shoulder that’s bigger than his feet…and that’s when it happens.

  The door opens. I am face to face with Trent Wagner.

  Trent Freakin’ Wagner. Trent Love of my Life Wagner. Trent OMG ARE YOU KIDDING ME Wagner.

  I’ve seen him twice since I’ve arrived on campus. Well, two and a half times. The first time I caught a glimpse of his profile when I walked past a classroom with the dean who’d welcomed me on my first day and given me a tour.

  He’d been slumped over in his seat, looking about three seconds away from passing out.

  And he had looked gorgeous.

  He was so beautiful. Unbelievably beautiful. With the light brown hair and the jawline from heaven, I’m pretty sure everyone in the known universe would find this guy attractive, but since he has been the voice of my all-time favorite book boyfriend for months, no one will ever find him more beautiful than I do.

  The second time I saw him coming toward me in the hallway between classes and I ducked into a bathroom.

  Yes, I’d ducked. Because apparently, that’s what I do in the face of the love of my life. I run and hide. Lesson learned.

  Gabe would have hurt himself laughing if he’d seen that one. I’d sent him a play by play via text, and he informed me that he peed his pants a little he’d laughed so hard. Granted, he was still in Europe, and it had been the middle of the night so there may have been some alcohol involved in that accident.

  I considered the third run-in a point-five because I’m not totally certain it was him. I’d seen a guy about his height from behind…so, does that count? Gabe would know.

  Of all the times for my best friend to be away, this is the worst. I could use him right now, as I stare at Trent in shocked silence, my brain cataloging my recent memories of him as if that were helpful. As if any of those memories will make my wide-eyed silence seem less weird.

  The only coherent thought going through my mind is, why isn’t Gabe here? He’d know what to say.

  I remain mute. There’s no way I can form words. My brain is too busy noticing that he’s sweaty, like he’s just come from the gym. He strips off his T-shirt as he walks into the room. He apparently hasn’t spotted me, and now I feel like a stalker. A crazy, drooling psycho stalker who’s silently watching her crush undress.

  Oh my gosh, what if he takes off his pants?

  We’ll never know how exactly I would have humiliated myself around a pantsless Trent Wagner because at that moment two things happen—he spots me and Seth intervenes.

  “Hey man, keep your clothes on. We’ve got guests.”

  After only the tiniest sign of shock and recognition, Trent smiles at me, his grin broad and easy. “Well, hello there, love.”

  And there it is. The faintly British accent I know so well. I blink a few times in response because that’s all I’m capable of. My brain is still latched onto that word. Love. He’s called me Love!

  Trent’s expression grows curious as he glances from me to Seth and I’m suddenly horrifyingly aware of how this might look. Like we’re together or something. Like this is a date.

  “We’re working on a project,” I blurt out.

  Wonderful. Lovely. That’s exactly the cool opening line I’d have hoped for the first time I ever got a chance to speak to the love of my life, a.k.a. the sexiest man on the planet.

  Mr. Sexy’s grin widens. “Cool, cool,” he says with a nod, as though it truly is cool that Seth and I are doing a homework assignment on a Friday evening. “Which class?”

  Luckily Seth answers, and maybe he does it to save me from myself because at that moment Trent stretches over to grab a shirt off his dresser and that stretch puts his bare, muscly, absolutely perfect chest within inches of my face.

  It’s within touching distance. Seriously. I could probably stick out my tongue and lick him.

  I do not, thank goodness. What kind of creeper would do something like that? Who would even think something like that?

  A girl who’s nearly of age to vote but who’s never even been on a freakin’ date, that’s who. A girl who’s seventeen and never been kissed. And no, screen kisses do not count, thank you very much.

  I’m irrationally cursing my mother because it’s partially her life choices that have left me sitting here mute and awkward because I have no clue how to talk to my crush. If I’d had a normal childhood and gone to school with normal kids, maybe I’d know what to do right now.

  It’s possible I wouldn’t be sitting here like a mute freak.

  He’s still smiling at me, and I am dumb. I am the biggest idiot on the planet because for the life of me I cannot think of words. All words gone. Me no speak now.

  Seth’s voice trails off in his explanation of our project when it’s clear that no one is listening. Trent’s not acknowledging him because he’s too busy smiling at me and holding eye contact for what feels like an excessively long time.

  I can’t look away, but I can feel the moment shifting from intimate to weird. From normal to crazytown. Say something, I tell myself. For the love of God, say anything.

  “I’m glad I finally get to meet you,” he says, all normal and cool, at the same time that I shout, “I’m a really big fan!”

  Everything stops. Both of them are staring at me in wonder, and I am horrified. Did I just say that? Was that my voice all screechy and high-pitched?

  “I—I—” I should keep my stupid mouth shut. What am I doing
trying to salvage that comment? But here I am, stammering as I try to explain. “I, um, listen to the books you do.”

  The books you do, dumbass?

  “The books you narrate,” I correct.

  I’m still staring into Trent’s shocked blue eyes so I can’t see Seth’s expression but I do hear him let out a strangled snort, one that’s filled with amusement, and I’m absolutely positive it’s at my expense.

  I can’t say that I blame him, I’d be laughing at me too, but it doesn’t help my current crisis situation. My palms are so sweaty I have to wipe them on my jeans, and I can feel the heat in my neck, creeping up into my face.

  He’s not saying anything and this burning embarrassment is unbearable. There are flames inside me and my stomach is churning in rebellion. Retreat, retreat!

  When Trent finally does react, he looks to Seth first. It’s just a quick glance, but I feel like there’s some silent bro communication going on. Maybe he’s silently asking Seth if I’m as psychotic as I appear.

  Yes, sadly. I really am this nuts. I’m breaking the role I’ve been cast in for so long, and I’m doing it with a vengeance. No snotty, stuck-up diva over here, folks, just a crazed fangirl.

  His silence is killing me. The weirdness going on between him and Seth is even more painful. I’d happily welcome Seth’s mocking laughter at this point, but even he seems to be struck dumb by my awkwardness.

  I haven’t been able to bring myself to look at his face. I’m not sure if I’d start laughing or crying at the sight of his horror.

  I will myself to stay silent even though the silence is so physically painful I have to shift underneath its weight.

  That’s it, I can’t take it anymore. Words…words are coming and I can’t stop them. “I’m sorry, that came out really weird,” I say. Yes, call attention to your awkwardness, that’ll help. “It’s just that I, uh…”

  Trent finally takes pity. His smile turns sexy as hell and his eyes narrow a bit so they’re at normal size and he no longer looks quite so shocked. “You’re a fan,” he says. And he’s cool about it, like he meets a lot of fans.

  And he probably does. Let’s face it, I can’t be the first to discover his acting genius.

  “I am,” I say with a quick nod. “I’ve listened to all your books.”

  I hear that muffled snort laugh coming from Seth again but I can’t stop now. Excitement is starting to overtake embarrassment and Trent’s smile is sweet. Affectionate, almost. “The way you give each character such a nuanced voice, bringing them to life, like, and making them feel distinct and real and…” I start to falter as I realize that I’m babbling.

  Trent’s bobbing his head, still smiling, but I realize I’m probably embarrassing him. When my voice fades off entirely, he says, “Cool, cool,” again.

  And he’s lying. Let’s face it, nothing about me or this situation is cool.

  He darts another look in Seth’s direction before turning back to me. “Thanks, Avery. That’s really great to hear.”

  My cheeks heat again but this embarrassment isn’t as bad. He’s giving me such a sweet smile I feel like maybe he really means it.

  “Hey,” he says suddenly, stepping toward me so abruptly I hold my breath. Why? I don’t know. He doesn’t smell bad. He smells good. Too good. Still, I sit there holding my breath.

  “There’s a party at Dorman’s tomorrow night,” he says. “You should come.”

  Everything about this statement is confusing to me. Who is Dorman? And, far more importantly, is Trent asking me out?

  “I—” I start and stop as my brain haltingly chugs along. Is this a date or a friend thing? And also, does it matter?

  Yes, it totally does. But I’ll sort that out later. For now, he’s staring and I’m looking like a weirdo. Again.

  “Yes.” I force myself to stop speaking after that because I’m more than a little afraid of what will come out of my mouth.

  His grin is amazingly brilliant as if me saying yes is the best thing he’s ever heard. “Cool,” he says. And while it’s the same word he’s used for the majority of this conversation, if that’s what this could be called, he says it with such affection that I can feel my cheeks turning hot all over again.

  “Cool,” I repeat stupidly as he tugs the new shirt over his head and reaches for a bag. It looks like a gym bag. Is he going from one workout to another? It would explain the six-pack if he is. My trainer would love this guy.

  He gives me a little wink that makes my belly fall to the ground. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

  I nod. Again, words are not my friend.

  And then he’s gone.

  The silence lasts for all of three seconds and I spend it staring at the door, not wanting to face Seth.

  But then his voice fills the air, loud and amused. “What. Was. That?”

  Chapter Six

  Seth

  I’m honestly not trying to be rude. But seriously. What the hell was that?

  My mind is still blown, and I can’t stop the words that come tumbling out. “Who are you and what have you done with Avery Sinclair?”

  At that, she finally looks at me, and I can see that blush staining her cheeks and trailing down her neck, disappearing below the neckline of her shirt.

  “Shut up,” she says, and I’m relieved that her voice is back to normal. That weird high-pitched, breathy thing she had going on was sexy as hell, but it sort of creeped me out. Like I’m here hanging with a normal chick and then boom, she’s all Marilyn Monroe singing Happy Birthday to JFK.

  Except that JFK was my shallow, entitled jerk of a roommate and Marilyn Monroe was my new film class partner.

  I scratch at the back of my head in shocked bemusement as I watch her drop her head into her hands, mumbling something low with a moan, and I’m pretty sure she’s equally horrified by her behavior.

  “Were you—” I start and stop with a shake of my head because it’s just too hard to believe. “You weren’t really—”

  “Starstruck?” She lifts her head and meets my gaze head-on.

  Holy crap, her eyes are amazing. Wide and expressive and so vividly blue they have to be contacts.

  She nods and her bottom lip juts out in a comically pathetic pout.

  I have no idea what to say. I should tease her. Normal me would tease her. But there’s a little part of me that is freaking out even more than she had. It still doesn’t quite sink in. It doesn’t make sense. Surely she was exaggerating. “You’re seriously a fan of his audiobooks?”

  She nods, her eyes widening as if I’m the crazy one here. “I seriously am.”

  She’s serious. Like, deadly serious.

  And I am…I don’t know what I am. Shocked? Confused? And ridiculously pleased with myself.

  Yeah, there’s definitely more than a little bit of triumphant glee coursing through me. For the first time in my entire life, I have this weird urge to pump my fist in the air. I won’t, but the urge is real.

  I suddenly understand athletes and their odd touchdown dances. Because Avery Sinclair likes my narration.

  No, she’s a fan.

  Holy crap. I have a fan.

  And it’s Avery Sinclair.

  I force my brain to stop freaking out because Avery is chewing on her bottom lip and waiting, no doubt, for me to mock her.

  So, I do what I do best and I impersonate my roommate. But unlike in the audiobooks, I don’t mimic his ridiculously suave British accent, but instead do my best head bob. “Cool, cool,” I say.

  She bursts out laughing, and I resist the urge to pump my fist in the air again.

  She’s doubled over and doing this cute half moan-half laugh thing as she shakes her head. “I was such a freak.”

  I can’t deny it. I’d never thought I’d see the day that the great, unflappable ice queen so thoroughly lost her cool. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.

  And she’d lost it over me.

  Nope, I can’t even think about tha
t right now. Not when I’m supposed to be the voice of calm reason here.

  Well, maybe not calm reason. I am the voice of sarcastic mockery which in this new friendship amounts to the same thing. “I don’t care what anyone says,” I say with a haughty look. “I think you handled that very well.”

  She’s dying. She tells me so in numerous ways as she moves out of her desk chair to flop onto my bed. My bed. Not his. I note this even though I have no idea if she knows whose bed is whose.

  But then again…yeah, she definitely knows. She’d been the one to call out how obvious it was that I’m not on the side with the baseball pennants.

  Smart girl.

  I watch her with a little smile as she rolls around on my bed as if we’re friends. As if she’s comfortable around me and this is what we do. We hang. There’s only the tiniest part of me that wants to tell her that she has it all wrong. That the voice she loves so much, the acting she thinks is so genius…that it’s all me.

  Okay, maybe a big part of me wants to tell her. I’m not going to lie, hearing those words was great. Better than great. I knew that the cheesy pirate series I narrate is popular, but I’ve never actually met anyone who listens to them. If anyone at my school is an avid audiobook fan, I have yet to learn of it. So yeah, it felt good to hear praise from a real human being rather than read a couple of lines from an anonymous reviewer.

  But I keep my identity a secret for a reason. Trent and I have a good thing going, and I’m not going to be the one who ruins it because I crave that fawning smile aimed in my direction. No thanks.

  She rolls onto her back and throws an arm over her face as she mutters self-derogatory curses under her breath.

  Besides, this is better. I’d rather have this girl on my bed cracking me up with her antics than an admiring fan. Trent can have her adoration, I just want her friendship.

  I pretend to be terribly interested in my screensaver as the reality of what I’d just realized hits me square between the eyes. I want to be friends with Avery Sinclair.

  Huh.

  I want a friend. Period. That in and of itself is odd since I’ve been doing just fine on my own. But I can’t deny that it’s been nice having someone to crack jokes with, someone to watch a movie with late at night, someone to just…be with.