Pink Shades of Words: Walk 2016

by Anthology

  "Yeah. Maybe go for a jog, combine the endorphins with the fresh air."

  "That oughta do you good. Shit, before you know it, it'll be like you never even met this girl."

  "That's placing a lot of pressure on one run around campus."

  Jackson grinned. "I'm nothing if not an optimist."

  I laced my running shoes up and tried to get myself mentally pumped about the idea of getting my muscles moving, losing myself in the hypnotic rhythm of my feet pounding the pavement in a steady beat. My heart rate rising, sweat breaking out on my skin... But that made images, completely unbidden, of Miche and me, in bed, naked, pop into my mind. Our bodies pressed against each other, her skin so smooth and creamy under my hands, her head thrown back and her eyes closed in pleasure...

  "Come on," Jackson groaned. "What's with the fucking sighing again?"

  Yeah. He was definitely right. It was beyond time for me to get out of my head. I was an athlete, damn it. I had been trained to make my body perform to capacity regardless of what my thoughts or emotions were telling me to do. I was going to employ that training now and push my muscles to the limit, using the exertion to switch up my headspace. One thing was for sure—I had proved that sitting around eating Cup O' Noodle wasn't going to get me out of my head. Time to try a different strategy.

  I stepped out of the dorm and into the bracing breeze coming off Humboldt Bay before I did a few stretches to work out a week’s worth of couch potato kinks. As I loped off across the quad, I put in my earbuds and started my workout playlist. Yeah, sure, it was still Seether. But at least it was Rise Above This this time. In my mind, that was progress.

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  Michelle

  I said a quick prayer—as I always did—that the Chevette would start and then turned the key. Yes! Success. The engine roared to life, and I prepared to pull out of my parking space. I was going out for the first time all week. In a very anti-serious-student—and therefore very un-me—move, I had blown off my classes for going on five days now and spent that time in my room. I had told myself that I was contemplating. Meditating.

  But I was just stewing.

  I just couldn't imagine a world where I would ever trust Sebastian's feelings for me. To trust that he liked me for exactly who I was and wasn't going to look for opportunities to change me into someone more mainstream as time went on.

  Of course, this was a direct result of having watched my douche nozzle of a stepfather do that to my lovely, wonderful, free spirit of a mother over the years. Now, she was little more than a Stepford wife. She had been complicit in this change as well, yes. She could've kicked his ass to the curb at any time. Or she could've at least pushed back a little on all of his constant demands to sandpaper off any of the things about her personality that stood out—things he thought of as rough edges but I thought of as all of her best parts.

  And, also of course, Sebastian never acted that way. Not toward me or anyone else. He and my stepfather were entirely different people. They were polar opposites. I knew that—in my head.

  The problem seemed to be making my subconscious recognize the difference. No matter how many times Sebastian did something wonderful for me or said something that showed me that he looked at me and saw my uniqueness as something precious and special—something to be protected, not ground away—I still couldn't bring myself to trust it. I was constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  And Sebastian was right—I couldn't keep putting him through it. I needed to solve this within myself. But I didn't know how. And, even if I had known how, I was afraid I wouldn't be able to.

  It was a shitty situation to be in, and I resented the hell out of it, but I was also terrified and depressed. I was terrified I was about to lose the best thing that had ever happened to me, and I was depressed because it was entirely my own fault and I didn't know how to fix it.

  But...none of that changed the fact that my grandmother needed groceries, and I was the only one who could bring them to her. So there I was, firing up the Chevette and heading to the store—one of the many activities that would forever be tied to Sebastian Winters in my mind. I smiled a small, sad smile. It was true, I would never be able to make a grocery store run again in my life without remembering that night he’d saved me.

  As I pulled out of my parking place, I did a double take. Was I hallucinating? Was I seeing visions of Sebastian because he had been the only thing on my mind twenty-four hours a day for the past week? I blinked. Nope. That was actually him loping across the quad in running shorts and no shirt, earbuds firmly planted in his ears and a determined expression on his face.

  A wave of melancholy crashed over me, competing with the wave of lust that rushed through me with equal strength. God! As sad as I was, I would never see a shirtless Sebastian Winters and not have my libido sit up and take notice. That would just never happen.

  I put my car into gear, a little more forcefully than necessary, and pulled away from the curb. I figured that the best way to shake loose of the powerful emotions was to remove myself from the situation. It didn't help much though. I pretty much sleepwalked through the grocery store aisles, throwing things in the cart without really looking at them. In a vague part of the back of my brain, a small voice whispered that I'd better hope I was buying the right food, but I couldn't even muster up the interest to pay it much attention.

  When I got to Grandma Trudy's house, I set the shopping bags on the porch next to me and fumbled with the key in the lock. Fuck! What was wrong with me? Even my fingers weren't working right.

  The door was pulled open from the inside with a sudden force while my keys were still in the lock, which yanked them out of my hand with no warning. I looked up into the concerned face of Grandma Trudy, who had chosen a palette of bright-purple eye shadow and shocking pink lipstick that day.

  "Honey, what's wrong? Are you sick? What's the matter?" She came out onto the porch and placed her hands on either side of my face while studying my eyes. Then she used the patented "Grandma Trudy" method of taking my temperature—planting a big kiss on my forehead. When she pulled back, she still looked concerned, but not panicked. "Well, you don't have a fever," she said.

  I believed her. In fact, I would have pitted her lips against the most finely tuned thermometer in a battle of accurate temperature gauging any day and expected them to come out on top.

  "No, Grandma, I'm fine," I assured her.

  "That's horse puckey," she replied. "Now, tell me what's wrong."

  I gathered up the grocery bags and moved past her and into the house. "Come on, Grandma. Let's go inside or else we'll both be running fevers before too long."

  "You're evading," she noted as she followed me in, "and that can only mean one thing."

  I let out a beleaguered sigh. "And what's that?"

  "This is about that boy. Sebastian."

  I shrugged but didn't deny it, and then I silently put the groceries away. I willed myself not to cry in front of my grandma. She had enough troubles without having to deal with me falling to pieces.

  My grandmother's voice was soft and sympathetic when she spoke again. "What happened, baby doll? Did he hurt you? I'll kill him!"

  That made me laugh, which was a welcome relief from the nonstop melancholy.

  "Unnecessary,” I said. “As a matter of fact, if it came down to which one of us is causing the problem, I'd have to go with me."

  "So...are you broken up? Or is this just a hiccup?"

  "I wish I knew. That's part of the problem."

  "Okay. Well, what's the rest of the problem?"

  I stopped putting groceries away and sat at the kitchen table. Grandma Trudy sat across from me and laid a comforting hand on my shoulder. After taking a moment to get my thoughts straight, I launched in.

  "I just... Well, you know how I've always placed such a high value on being myself. Even if I didn't fit in with the rest of the world. I have to be who I am, and I don't appreciate people trying to take all of the uniq
ue things about me and make them 'normal.' I can't let that happen, because once you let someone start chipping away at you like that, bit by bit, over time, suddenly, you wake up thirty years later and you don't even recognize yourself. You're not even the same person anymore. Like I said, I can't let that happen."

  "That's true. But...is that what was happening?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well, granted I've only met the young man and seen you two together a couple of times, but I have to say, he seemed to think you were pretty spectacular 'as is.' So, has he been trying to change you? That would surprise me is all."

  I shook my head. "No. No, that's not it. I just... I can't let myself get sucked in. He's the epitome of mainstream. He's the fricking king of mainstream. How could he be satisfied with me and my weird ways forever? I mean, I'm sure Mom thought Dan loved her 'as is' when they first got together. That's the magic of new relationships. I just... I can't let myself turn out like her. Not to be mean, but...it's like she used to be painted in vibrant Technicolor. Then, over the years, he's been running this constant campaign to fade her brightness until, finally, she’s barely more than black and white. I can't wake up one day and realize that, while I wasn't looking, I turned to black and white!"

  Grandma Trudy put her hands up in front of her to stop me from barreling on with my tirade. "Whoa, now. Slow down a bit there. First of all, Sebastian is not Dan. I know you think he might turn into Dan one day, or at least you're afraid that he might. But let me tell you something. I've held my tongue out of respect for long enough. You're an adult now, and I can be frank. Your stepfather is an asshole."

  I burst out laughing at the sheer unexpectedness of the statement and the bluntness with which she'd delivered it.

  "He is,” she said. “And I've known it from minute one after meeting him. So I wouldn't worry too much about Sebastian turning into him over time. Assholishness like that is pretty tough to hide, even in its early stages.

  "Now, about your mother. I love her. She's my daughter. Don't get me wrong. But, just like Sebastian is nothing like Dan, you're nothing like her. Ever since she was little, she was always looking for love and acceptance. She'd do anything to fit in. That's probably my fault. I don't know. I tried to fix it. I tried to help her, to make her feel loved. I tried to instill a sense of self-esteem. But...I don't know. Maybe she was just baked that way. Sometimes, our personalities are what they are, and that's always been a part of your mom.

  "Now, when she met your stepfather, it was a perfect storm. A man who loved to control matched up with a woman who was willing to give up her individuality to be loved. A perfect pair in the worst way possible. Now, honey, that's not Sebastian, and that's not you. So, why would you give away a chance at real happiness, real love, because of what a jackass your stepdad is? Hasn't he stolen enough of your joy already?"

  My head spun with the implications of everything my grandmother had just said. A lot of it mirrored things Sebastian had already said to me or I had even said to myself. But, until I’d heard it laid out, step by step and piece by piece, in my grandmother's trademark no-nonsense delivery... Well, it just hadn't really sunk in. Now, these truths were hitting home like a hammer.

  I dropped my forehead to the table on top of my folded arms, and then I sat up straight. I was done being passive. It was time to take some action. It was time to take control.

  It was time to get my man!

  I popped out of the chair and hurried over to my purse, taking my phone out with trembling fingers. Then I hastily tapped out a text message.

  Me: I'd like to talk, if you still want to.

  Almost immediately, the phone made a swooshing sound as the reply appeared.

  Sebastian: Where r u?

  Me: At my grandma's.

  I expected another immediate reply, but when I didn't get one, I sat back down in the kitchen chair, dejected.

  My grandma stood and ruffled my hair. "Don't worry, baby doll. He's going to call you later, after you get home, just you wait and see. He probably just doesn't want to interrupt your visit. Here. I'll make you some hot cocoa."

  "Thanks, Grandma." I didn't know how the warm, chocolate concoction would help my nervousness, but I appreciated the effort.

  Just as she was pouring the warm milk into a mug, however, we were surprised by a sharp and insistent ringing of the doorbell. When I opened it, I was even more surprised to see a very out-of-breath, very sweaty, and (still) very shirtless Sebastian Winters. I stepped outside and joined him on the porch, closing the door behind me.

  "Sebastian! Holy crap! Were you running in this neighborhood?"

  He shook his head as he bent over halfway, putting his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

  "Were you still running on campus when I texted?"

  He nodded, still breathing heavily.

  "Holy shit. That's, like...over a mile away!"

  "Hell yeah," he agreed, sounding winded. He straightened and grinned. "You can bet I've never been so happy to be able to do a four-minute mile in my entire life."

  Joy and relief bubbled up in me so profoundly that I couldn't even put it into words. All I could do was grin from ear to ear and rush to Sebastian, my arms outstretched.

  He stopped me, though, with a hand on my upper arm. "Babe, wait, no," he said.

  My heart sank. I could imagine everything he wanted to work through and talk about before we kissed and made up, and that was completely fair. I couldn't blame him.

  What he said, though, was, "I'm all sweaty."

  I laughed and launched myself into arms. "I don't care," I gasped as I kissed him hard, first on the mouth and then all over his gorgeous, precious face.

  I tasted tangy salt on my tongue as we kissed and held each other—a mixture of his sweat and my tears. Again, I didn't care. I only cared that we were back in each other's arms.

  The road ahead of us wouldn't be easy. We were so different, and we were going to face challenges because of it, both from other people and between ourselves. But one thing I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt—and I was damn sure not going to forget it again—was we loved each other. No matter what obstacle we faced in the future, we would face it together.

  "I love you," he whispered in my ear.

  I pulled back and smiled brilliantly. It seemed like smiling was all I could do.

  "I know that now," I replied, "and I'm going to do my best to remember it each and every day."

  He stroked my hair back from my face. Love shone from his eyes so brightly that it mesmerized me.

  "Well, if you forget, don't worry. I'll remind you."

  And then we were lost again—in kisses, and in each other.

  EPILOGUE

  Michelle

  I stood in front of the open suitcase and critically eyed the contents. I was going to be gone for a month and a half. I had to make sure I would have everything I'd need.

  Without warning, strong arms encircled my waist from behind and I was swept off my feet. I laughed, grasping the muscular forearms that held me up. Sebastian placed a couple of quick kisses on my neck and then replaced my feet on the floor, but he kept his arms wrapped around me. I leaned back into the warm security of his chest and, for the thousandth time (that day), marveled at how perfectly I fit in his embrace.

  He made a show of looking over everything in my suitcase. "Hmmm..." he said mock thoughtfully, "I'm not sure if you have enough books. The fifty-fifty clothes-to-books ratio you have going on here is a little light on the printed word, I think."

  I playfully swatted at him. "Shut up! This is going to be an epic summer road trip. We're doing forty-eight states in forty-eight days. I can't run out of reading material. I'd go nuts!"

  He moved to my side, squeezing my waist. "There are these little things called ebooks..."

  I gasped. "I know you did not just say that to a future librarian!"

  He put his hands up in surrender. "All right, all right. Far be it from me to try to separate a biblio-holic f
rom her pages full of 'the hard stuff.' Or maybe I should say 'the hardcover stuff.'"

  I groaned. "You're clever. I'll give you that. Nowhere near as clever as you think you are, of course... But, then again, that's a high bar."

  He touched my hair the way I loved and looked at me, his eyes shining. They held affection, attraction, and—my favorite of all the A-words—complete and total acceptance. Oh, and I couldn't forget amusement.

  "Do you really think you'll read this many on the trip?"

  "I have to keep powering through as many books as I can," I explained lightly. "I'm on a quest to find a hero in one of them that even comes close to measuring up to you. I can't abandon it now!"

  He laughed and pulled me into a warm embrace. He slowly drawled, "Darlin', that's gonna be a long, frustrating, and ultimately fruitless search. You may as well just give it up and enjoy the real thing."

  "Hmmm... Okay. So 'modesty.' That's another quality the hero would need. Let me make a mental note."

  We stood together for a moment until I finally sighed and gave him one last squeeze.

  "All right. I'm satisfied with what I've packed. Let's close this puppy up and get on the road. My Instagram followers are expecting me to be in Oregon by nightfall and Idaho tomorrow. Montana after that, and so on and so on. We've got a schedule to keep. We’ve got states to visit, and I’ve got pictures to take. #48states48days and everything.”

  He grinned down at me. "And the best part is you're gonna be in every shot."

  I kissed him long and hard. My heart beat wildly, just like it did every time I kissed him. Or touched him. Or, hell, even thought of him.

  "No. The best part is that we are."

  About Melanie Shawn

  NEW YORK TIMES & USA TODAY bestselling author Melanie Shawn is the writing team of sister duo Melanie and Shawna. They are the authors of the Hope Falls, Crossroads, and Someday series. Originally from Northern California, they both migrated south and now call So Cal their home.

  Growing up, Melanie constantly had her head in a book and was always working on short stories, manuscripts, plays and poetry.

  Shawna always loved romance in any form - movie, song or literary. If it was a love story with a happy ending, Shawna was all about it! She proudly acknowledges that she is a romanceaholic.