by Rhonda James
I watch his every move with great interest, wondering how his towel manages to remain in place, and secretly will it to fall gracefully to the floor. He has a great ass. I only know this from staring at it so often. But it's one part of his body I haven't had the pleasure of viewing without clothes on. Until now. When he reaches his room, he drops the towel and steps into the first pair of jeans he finds lying on the floor. My jaw drops, and I'm unable to tear my eyes away. Even though we've established rules, he has no qualms about baring himself to me. In a way it's totally unfair, and I find myself wondering how he'd react if the tables were turned. He casts a glance over his shoulder and grins when he finds me staring.
"Where do you want me?" Oh god, now my mind is in the gutter. That's not the question he should be asking after I've just seen him from behind. Damn, he has a fine ass. Of course he does. He's probably the closest thing to perfection I'm ever going to encounter, and the fact he doesn't act like he knows it makes him even better.
"Umm, how about we both sit on the floor, that way I can help you position your fingers." I clear my throat once more and pull Willow from her case.
I have three guitars, each given to me by a different family member. My father gave Willow to me when I was fifteen. It was quite an expensive gift for someone so young, but when he handed it to me that Christmas morning, he told me he had no doubt we'd make beautiful music together. We wrote my first song together, and ever since, I've called her my good luck charm. She's made out of cocobolo wood, and has an intricate design to her that still takes my breath away. Besides being beautiful to look at, she has a sound quality none of the other guitars in my collection possess.
We sit cross-legged, facing one another. "B, meet Willow. She's my favorite guitar. Go on and take her, she won't bite." He looks slightly apprehensive as he reaches out to take her in his capable hands. I'm so close to this piece of wood, I almost swear I can hear her moan with pleasure as his fingers wrap around her neck.
"She's beautiful," he says quietly, never taking his eyes off mine. For a moment, I'm not sure if he's talking about Willow or me. "What's the proper way to hold her?" Rising up to my knees, I wiggle my way behind him and reach my arms around his middle.
"First of all, you have to make sure your posture is good. Sit straight up and place this hand here." I guide his left hand up the neck of the guitar. "Keep your thumb behind the neck, bend your first three fingers and gently rest them over the chords. Your thumb is going to remain loose while your fingers will move back and forth between the chords you're playing."
"Here," he lifts the guitar and places it in my hands. "Show me first by doing it yourself. I want to watch the pro in action."
"I'm not sure about the pro reference, but I'll show you the way I do it. Pay close attention." I take her in my hands and the act is so natural I don't even have to think about what I'm doing.
"Play something for me." He leans back on his hands and watches me in expectation.
"Hmmm, any requests?" I ask playfully, as my fingers move over the chords to warm up. "Never mind, I know what I'm playing." I begin strumming the opening chords to one of my favorite songs by the band, Paradox. They're a rock band out of L.A. I've been following since their first release. This song was written for the lead singer's wife. She sang it with him at an awards show a year ago and I fell in love with it. It has more of a country feel, which might be why it spoke to me, but it probably had a lot more to do with the lyrics than anything else.
"Don't just play it, you also have to sing it for me."
When I strum the first C chord, my mouth opens and the words come out without giving it another thought. Before I know it, I'm lost in the music.
There's a picture of you, still hanging on the wall
I sit home every evening, just hoping you might call.
My world came closing in on me, the day you said goodbye
I thought I would get over you, but all I do is cry.
Come back to me I'm begging you darlin'
Come back to me so I can hold you one more time.
Don't leave me hanging, I can't face the world without you
Come back to me, I'll love you right this time.
Ev'ry day you're not here, reminds me of all I've lost
Do whatever it takes to win you back, not caring 'bout the cost.
Give anything to have you here, and hold you all night long
Fight like hell to stop the tears, but I'm just not that strong.
Come back to me, I'm begging you darlin'
Come back to me, I'll believe in you this time.
The bed's too big without you, don't leave me alone tonight
Come back to me, I'll make everything alright
Come back to me, I'll make everything alright.
I finish the song and open my eyes to find him staring at me with his mouth hanging open in wonder. I'm used to this sort of reaction. Most people look at me and have no idea I pack such a powerful voice in my tiny body. Dad always told me I'd knock 'em dead one day. Looks like I came close just now.
"I'm... I have no words." His head shakes back and forth as he claps for me. I blush out of embarrassment, but only because it's him. Normally, I'm not this shy when receiving compliments. Somehow the compliment seems bigger when coming from him. "That was amazing. I know this is probably going to sound cheap and cliché, but you have the voice of an angel." He scoots closer, and I know it's only to make it easier for me to teach him, but a small shiver courses through me when his shoulder brushes against mine. "You don't expect me to learn that one, do you?"
"No." I smile a crooked smile and tuck my hair behind my ear. His eyes track the movement, and when our eyes meet, I know something has shifted between us. "Let me show you a few chords."
He holds the guitar like I showed him and fumbles with the whole combination of strumming while moving his fingers. After a few tries, he seems to catch on. And when he strums a C chord and D major successfully, I give a small round of applause.
He carefully moves the guitar aside and leans toward me, resting his weight on his right forearm. "What was that song? I've never heard it before."
"It's called "Come Back to Me" by Paradox, who happen to be my favorite band on the planet. I've actually met the lead singer, Sebastian Miles, one time at the airport in Chicago. He was super sweet, signing everything the crowd threw his way, and outside of the fact of him being drop dead gorgeous you would have never known he wasn't like the rest of the world. He seemed so down to earth."
"That's cool," he moves his fingers over the carpet, inching closer to mine with every pass. "So, this guy, what's he look like? What is it about him that gets you hot?" he asks in a teasing voice. When I don't respond immediately, he jumps on my silence. "Oh, come on, Cassie. I know he does it for you. I can tell by the way your eyes glaze over. And there's so much energy coursing through you right now you're practically humming beside me. What is it about this particular guy that gets to you?"
"Why are you asking me this?" I whisper.
"I don't know," he shrugs, and for a moment I think he's going to let it go. "Maybe it's because right now, you look the same way I remember that first morning I found you in my bed. Right after we kissed."
"Oh," I let out a shaky breath as I ponder my answer. "He has dark hair and tattoos, with eyes that pull you in." I lick my lips nervously, aware of the similarities between the man I'm describing and the one sitting less than six inches from me. "Then he wears these sexy as hell lip rings, and his voice melts me into a puddle of goo. I don't know, guess I'm just a sucker for dark-haired men."
Our eyes meet once more, and this time I know I'm not imagining things. He leans closer and slowly moistens his upper lip with his tongue.
Wait, is he going to kiss me?
I don't breathe, terrified any movement may scare him off. I want so badly for him to kiss me. I've dreamed of his lips on mine since first tasting them. I'm not sure what this will mean for our friendship, or the
rules we've set in place. All I think about are Roni's words.
The fact he felt the need to establish them at all tells me he's into you.
Maybe she'd been right after all.
He's so close. I can feel his breath on my cheek as he leans in at a painstakingly slow pace. I'm shaking inside. The throbbing between my legs tells me I'm so turned on by the thought of his tongue mingling with mine, I could probably have an orgasm without him touching me.
"Cass," he murmurs softly, inching closer.
Please kiss me.
"B," I whisper, parting my lips in invitation.
"Cage!" Davis bellows before barging through the closed door as we scramble apart. "I just walked in on Masterson getting a blow—" He stops abruptly when he sees me sitting on the floor. "Hey, Cassie." He rubs the back of his neck uncomfortably and looks between us. "What's going on in here?" He waggles his brow suggestively and I wonder what we'd have done if he'd walked in just a few seconds later.
"Nothing," Brantley snaps.
It hadn't felt like nothing to me.
"I was just giving Brantley a guitar lesson." I stand and lift Willow off the floor. "I better be going. Your hour's up anyway." I quickly collect my things and head for the door. Davis is still in the room, so I can't say what's on my mind. I can't tell him I wanted him to kiss me more than anything in the world. Or that I've fantasized about him every day since we met. Instead, I look back and offer a parting wave he doesn't bother returning. I'm not sure if he regrets what almost happened, or if he's actually pissed it didn't. Either way, he doesn't take his eyes off Davis long enough to acknowledge my exit.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
BRANTLEY
I toss my hockey duffle in the back of the truck before climbing inside and plugging in my phone to listen. Things were much more productive at practice tonight, so much so that Coach let us out a few minutes early. Whatever was bothering Davis seems to have been forgotten, because he was on top of his game tonight. The rookies finally seem to be meshing with the rest of the guys, and I couldn't be happier. The timing couldn't be better, because we play our first game against Ohio State this weekend. After claiming the win in our first two games, then tanking out big time during the last two, our season hasn't gotten off to a great start. We have to be on top of our game this weekend if we want any hope of sending Ohio home with their tail between their legs. Ohio has a rock solid team. Their defenders are fast, and their offensive line is impressive. They have one of the best goalies in the NCAA league. Notice how I said 'one of the best'. Rivers holds the number one slot, and I'm banking money he'll end the year with that title. The guy is just that talented, which explains why the Detroit team had drafted him so quickly. He was always good, but last season the guy hit his stride and doesn't appear to be slowing down.
My phone beeps as I turn over the ignition and I look down to see a text from Cassie.
Her: Thinking of u. Wanted 2 say hi. Is it wrong that I miss u? Lol
I smile to myself, imagining her skinny butt sitting in that tiny dorm room. It's only been a few days since my first guitar lesson, but a part of me gets what she's talking about. I still can't believe I almost let myself kiss her. Fuck. I wanted to more than anything. Listening to her sing that song. Watching the way her fingers moved effortlessly over the part she calls the fretboard. She's a natural, and I can see myself getting lost in her voice. If Davis hadn't barged in the way he did, who knows how far things would have gone. I'm ready to take things to the the next level, but I'm not ready to ruin what we've built just because I can't keep my dick in my pants. After our talk at the diner, we've somehow found ourselves inseparable. We rarely go a day without some form of communication. I find myself checking my phone for texts, or scrolling through her Snapchat to see what she's been up to when I'm not around. Every Wednesday she posts a photo of her eating lunch with Davis, and I won't lie, it rubs me the wrong way. I know they're just friends, but isn't that what we are? If I'm thinking about something more with her, could Davis be thinking the same thing? Something about her makes me smile. And I have to admit it's nice spending time with a girl I can be myself around. Cassie doesn't expect anything from me, yet somehow I find myself going out of my way with her.
I open Spotify and soon James Bay's voice fills the cab of my truck. I'm about to shoot off a reply when my phone rings in my hand and I answer without checking to see who it is.
"I was just thinking about you." My face nearly splits in two from the smile stretching across it. It's been a long ass day and I know she can make me laugh.
"Well, isn't that what every mother wants to hear from her handsome son. How are you darling? You sound tired."
Would someone please explain to me how a mom can pick up on that shit?
"Mom, hey. How are you? How's dad doing? Last I talked to him he sounded well." I throw my truck in gear and pull out into traffic. It's after seven on a Thursday, but for some reason the traffic on State Street is still bumper-to-bumper.
"Your dad is doing really well. The doctors are impressed with how well his recovery is going. But you know how he hates being idle. Missing work has really put him in a foul mood, which is the reason for my call."
"Here I thought you just wanted to hear your baby boy's voice," I say in a teasing voice, making her laugh.
"Oh, darling, you know how true that is, but I must admit I'm calling for purely selfish reasons. What are the odds you can find somewhere to go during Thanksgiving break? I only ask because I've gone behind your father's back and booked us a getaway. I know the timing is poor, but given recent circumstances, I think it will do us some good. Maybe it will remind us of how things used to be." I can hear the desperate plea in her voice, and even though I don't have a freaking clue where I'll end up spending the day, I don't have the heart to crush her spirits.
"I'm fairly certain I know of a family or two who'd be willing to feed another mouth. I'm glad to hear you and dad are getting away. I can't remember the last time you did something like that for yourselves. But aren't you worried about dad not getting his fill of sweet potato casserole?"
"I've already got it covered. The hotel we're staying in is preparing a complete Thanksgiving feast for their guests, and it's a buffet. Your father will be in sweet potato heaven, though I may have to remind him to control himself, seeing as how he did just have open heart surgery," she laughs, and I welcome the sound. The last few times we've spoken, I could hear the strain the in her voice, though I know she worked hard to hide it. "Thank you for understanding. I hated the thought of calling, but the timing worked out perfectly. His office is closed that week anyway, so he won't feel guilty about not being there. I want you to promise you'll be home for Christmas. This may be the last year we get to see you once you become famous."
"Come on, mom. I'll never be too famous for my family," I answer honestly. "Besides, I'd be a fool to pass up your Christmas morning hugs. Hey, where's dad? Can I talk to him?"
"He fell asleep on the sofa just before I called, and I don't want to wake him just yet. Why don't you try calling back in the morning? Listen, I better go, sweetie. We love you."
"Yeah, love you guys too. I'll try calling tomorrow, but I can't make any promises. I have an early practice." I end the call on a sigh, not in the mood to think about Thanksgiving when October has barely begun. Pulling into the driveway, I cut the engine and pull open my messages.
Me: It's not wrong. I miss u 2.
I dance through the shower, then lie on my bed to read a few chapters in my econ book. Two pages later and my mind drifts from what I'm reading. Hearing mom's voice brought everything I'd been trying to suppress back to the surface. Even though mom seems perfectly content on acting as if nothing happened, I can't seem to shake the heavy weight crushing against me. Dad and another woman? Trying to picture my dad with anyone besides mom just feels weird. Would he really cheat on her? And if so, why? I want to ask these questions, but I never seem to get him on the phone for longer than five minu
tes. Maybe mom's been running interference so I'm not able to corner him. But the thought of asking him over the phone doesn't sit well either. No, these are questions that should be asked and answered face-to-face. That way, I can look him in the eye when he responds. Now that I won't be going home for Thanksgiving, it will have to wait another month, and by then it may start to feel like old news to them. They'll have moved on while I'm still holding onto misplaced hatred. No, hatred isn't quite the word I would use. Too harsh. But I do have resentment because, no matter how you look at it, if he stepped out of line in any way, I'm afraid it may rock the pedestal I've kept him on all these years.
I'm afraid maybe it already has.
I don't know how long I've been asleep before the phone starts ringing. "Hello?" My voice is thick with sleep, and I cover the phone with my hand to clear my throat.
"I'm so sorry I woke you. Just call me tomorrow," she blurts and I have to work fast to catch her before she ends the call.
"Wait, I want to talk. How are you? I've missed you." It feels weird saying the actual words out loud, but they're true. And now that they're out there, I can't take them back, not that I want to. We haven't seen each other much this week, and right now, I could really use a friend.
"B? Are you okay? Your voice sounds funny."
"I'm okay. Wait... I mean, not really." I try to compose myself. I felt fine until I heard the concern in her voice. Knowing she's out there worried about me does weird things to my head. "It's my dad. He had a heart attack after I got back from Traverse City."
"And you're just now telling me? Is he okay?"
"Honestly? I'm not sure. And that's not even the worst of it. Mom suspected he'd been having an affair and—" That's as far as I get before she cuts me off.
"Stay right where you are. I'll be right there." The call ends abruptly, and I'm left holding the phone to my ear as if waiting for her to pick it back up and tell me she was only kidding. Fifteen minutes later, there's a soft knock on my door, and when I open it, she falls into my tired arms.