Awakening You

by Jessica Sorensen

  “All right, if you’re okay with it, then let’s do it.” I raise my knuckles for a fist bump.

  Ayden laughs, but taps his knuckles against mine.

  “What else did you want to tell me?” he asks as he drives forward through the intersection. “When you came out to the car with your dad, you said there was some awesome news you needed to tell me.”

  “Oh, it’s more than awesome news, but I’m going to make you wait until we get home. Build the anticipation.” I prop my feet up on the dashboard and tip my head to the side to stare out the window at the stars peeking through the clouds.

  I don’t know how many times I’ve gazed up at them, making wish after wish that I’d one day get to live out my dream of being a singer. I never really thought they’d give me my wish.

  Stars, stars, shining above,

  I’ve whispered to you

  So many times,

  Told you my secrets

  And sold you my soul

  In exchange for guidance.

  Stars, stars, shining above,

  I’ll tell you another

  Wish from the heart

  Then close my eyes

  And blow out the light

  And wait for you in the dark.

  Chapter 11

  Lyric

  About a half an hour later, I’m sitting on the edge of the empty hot tub out in my backyard, wearing my favorite black bikini. Apparently, because no one ever uses the hot tub, my parents drained it. Since I have no clue how to fill it, I sit with my feet inside¸ trying to figure out what to do. My mom is working late at the gallery, so I was able to steal two beers from the fridge—my parents aren’t really champagne kind of people.

  Ayden went inside his house about ten minutes ago to get changed into some shorts. Honestly, I’m not one hundred percent sure he’s going to come out, not when he thinks we’re going to get into the water and he’s going to have to strip off his shirt in order to do that.

  The hot tub has a stereo built into it, so I mess around until I find the perfect song, “The Ocean” by Manchester Orchestra. Then I pop the top off the beer, sit back, and wait, hoping I don’t have to wait forever.

  Two minutes later, my phone buzzes from beside me. Figuring it’s Ayden, I pick it up, preparing to read a rejection on my hot tub offer. Instead, the message is from Maggie, a friend from school.

  Maggie: I thought u said u were coming to my party.

  Me: I said I would try, but some stuff came up.

  Maggie: U mean sexy goth boy stuff?

  Me: Yeah, sort of.

  Maggie: U can bring him.

  No, I really can’t. With all the drama going on, there’s no way Ayden’s parents will let him go party it up without parental supervision.

  Me: Sorry, we’re already busy.

  Maggie: Now, I like the sound of that. It’s about time u two bumped uglies, just like I’m about to bump uglies with Sage.

  Me: Okay, first off, bump uglies? Seriously? That’s what you call it? Secondly, Ayden and I aren’t having sex. We’re just hanging out in my backyard. And thirdly, Sage???? WTF?

  Maggie: What? He’s hot.

  Me: Yeah, but you two hate each other.

  Maggie: There’s a thin line between love and hate.

  Me: Not really.

  Maggie. Oh, whatever. Sage is hot, and if I want to fuck him, I can.

  Me: Sorry. You’re right. I didn’t mean to sound so bitchy.

  Maggie: Apology accepted. Now, let’s get back to you and Ayden not having sex. Why the hell not?

  Me: Because we’re not ready.

  Not entirely true. Sometimes, I feel like I am ready, but I know for a fact Ayden isn’t.

  Maggie: Yeah, right. So is it u or him? I’m guessing him since u asked me last week what it was like.

  I scrunch my nose at her message and consider putting my phone away.

  In a moment of sheer curiosity, I asked her about sex. Not because I’m clueless. I just wanted to know firsthand how bad it hurt in case, one day in the far, far, far away future, Ayden and I end up having sex.

  Me: Hey, I have to go. My parents need me.

  I put the phone down on the brim of the hot tub. It buzzes a few more times before Maggie gives up. I’m not upset with her or anything. It just doesn’t feel right discussing my and Ayden’s relationship with her when she doesn’t have a clue what’s going on with him, and it’s really none of her business.

  A half a beer later, Ayden finally wanders into my backyard. He’s wearing a pair of black board shorts and a green T-shirt. His black hair is damp and hangs in his eyes.

  “Did you shower?” I lean forward to get a better look at him.

  He ruffles his damp hair into place. “Yeah, I wanted to wash the rain out of my hair.” He hoists himself up beside me, plants his bare feet into the empty hot tub, and discreetly but thoroughly checks out my body. Then his gaze drops to our feet. “What the hell? Where’s the water?”

  “Yeah, so apparently, my parents drained it because no one ever uses it.” I hand him a beer. “I did manage to steal a couple of these, though.”

  “So, what do we do now, then?” He pops the top off the beer and slants his head back to take a swallow.

  I stare at the sad, pathetic excuse for a hot tub. “Do you know how to fill it?”

  He shakes his head. “I’ve never even been in a hot tub before.”

  “Not even back when . . .” I bite my lips to stop myself from mentioning his past.

  “Back when I lived with my birth mother?” he asks, scratching the back of his neck. “It’s okay, you can ask me stuff if you want to. I’ve been working on it in therapy . . . I mean, with that kind of stuff.”

  “Like hot tub stuff?”

  “Yeah, like with hot tub stuff.” He scoots toward me until our knees are touching.

  I stifle a smile because I can tell he did it on purpose, needing to touch me.

  “And to answer your question,” he says. “My birth mother wasn’t really the take-her-kids-swimming type, and that includes hot tubs.”

  “So, what did you do for fun, then?” I swallow a little bit more beer then balance the bottle between my legs.

  “Get into trouble.” He gives a half-shrug. “You remember what I looked like when we met, right? That was basically who I was for the longest time.”

  “What do you mean by trouble, exactly? I know you drank, smoked, and got into fights, but any arrests I need to know about?” I dazzle him with a smile so he’ll know I’m messing with him.

  “No, no arrests.” He relaxes back and stares up at the sky while sipping his beer. “My mother wasn’t a good mother, and you already know that I didn’t know my dad, so basically, my brother . . . my sister, and me just ran wild from the day we were born. We got into a ton of trouble all the time and did a lot of shitty stuff. Sometimes, I worry it’s all going to catch up with me.”

  “My dad doesn’t really know his dad, either. I guess he left his family when he was like six and started a new family. And, from what I understand, my mother’s parents were neglectful, although my grandpa turned his life around.”

  When he looks at me in puzzlement, I get to the point. “What I’m trying to say is that, from some of the stories I’ve heard over the years, they got into a ton of trouble, but they turned out just fine. For parents, they’re actually pretty cool.” I clink bottles with him. “So, I’m betting you’ll turn out just fine. In fact, you kind of already have.”

  “I still have a long ways to go before I’m fine, but I’ll admit that I’m getting better.”

  My jaw drops in mock shock as I place my hand over my mouth. “Did you just say something nice about yourself, Shy Boy?”

  His lips quirk. “Maybe.”

  I grin like I’ve just won the freaking lottery. “You should do it more often.”

  He remains quiet as he gazes at the night sky. Most of the clouds have thinned, and the stars and moon glimmer vibrantly above us.

&n
bsp; “So, you want to hear my news?” I ask abruptly. “Because it’s pretty big and epic.”

  His head cocks to the side as his attention falls to me. “Let’s hear it.”

  Unable to conceal my enthusiasm any longer, an absurdly huge smile takes over my face. “It’s about the band and a tour.”

  “Really? What one?”

  “I think it’s called the Rocking Summer Blast Tour or something like that. I have a paper in my room about it. My dad actually got us the gig, and it’s not the biggest, most popular line-up, but it could help us get a foot in the door. Plus, imagine how cool it would be. You and me on the road, twenty-four seven, singing and writing lyrics while we see the country. We could have this super awesome duet at the end of our performance.” When he doesn’t say anything right away, I add, “Isn’t it exciting?”

  He doesn’t seem that excited, more like disappointed. “I’m not sure if I can go . . . not when my sister’s still out there.”

  I have no idea what to say to that. Honestly, I don’t think there’s anything I can say. He’s clearly suffering over his sister, and I’m not about to try to convince him he’s wrong for feeling that way.

  “What can I do to help?”

  He shrugs. “There’s nothing anyone can do except wait for the police to find her.” He grows quiet for a minute, studying the scars on the back of his hands. “Sometimes, I think about going to look for her myself”—he stares across the yard at his house—“tracking down every place connected to their name and seeing if she’s being held at any of them.”

  My expression plummets. “I think you should just let the police do their job.”

  “I’m not saying I’m going to. I was just telling you I think about it sometimes.”

  “When you think about doing stuff, you usually do it.” My sharp tone surprises me, almost as much as how afraid I am that he’s going to actually go through with what he said.

  He jerks back, thrown off by outburst. “No, I don’t . . . I was just telling you because”—hurt masks his expression—“I thought that’s what we did.”

  “Yeah, we do.” I swing my legs out of the hot tub, hop down onto the grass, and cross my arms, staring him down. “But you keep doing things like tracking that hacker down and going to that house, so when you say things like you’re going to go track down these places, I get worried you’re actually going to do it.”

  “I’m not going to go looking for them. I just need to do”—he balls his hands into fist, staring above us, as if cursing the stars—“something. I’m so sick of waiting around until they finally decide to take me. Like today at the concert. I was fine until I was around a bunch of people. Then all I kept thinking is how someone could be watching me in the audience, waiting to make their next move, just like they did to Sadie. Did you know they kidnapped her right out of her home?”

  “They’re not going to take you!” I shout, startling the both of us. I try to calm myself down, but it’s like there are these waves inside me, roaring and swirling, and I feel like I’m drowning in the center of it. “Nothing’s going to happen to you, and you’re not going to go look for these places. Promise me you won’t do it. Ever.”

  His eyes widen as he gapes at me in horror. That’s when I realize tears are pouring from my eyes and down my cheeks. We hardly ever fight—I hardly ever fight with anyone—but the idea of him doing something stupid that could potentially lead to me losing him is making me feel like I’m losing my damn mind.

  I can’t ever lose him.

  Ever. Ever. Ever.

  Let the ocean take me away and drown me in rage.

  I’ll give myself away,

  Just as long he stays safe.

  And never, ever goes away.

  “Lyric, I get that you’re upset, but—”

  “No, you don’t get it,” I cut him off, sounding calmer. “You don’t care about yourself, so I don’t think you realize how much it would kill me if something happened to you, because you don’t think someone can care about you that much. But I care about you that much.”

  “It wouldn’t kill—”

  “I love you.” Probably the worst moment ever to say it, but what’s done is done and I’m not going to take it back. Honestly, I kind of feel better, like I got a few tiny rays of sunshine back.

  I step toward him, feeling calm as a summer day. “If you care about me at all, you’ll promise you won’t go looking for these places, and you’ll let the police do it.” I lift my hand and hitch my pinkie toward him. “In fact, you’ll pinkie swear on it.”

  He opens his mouth in a protest, but then his jaw snaps shut. He does the movement repeatedly, as if I shocked his voice right out of him. Then he searches my eyes for something with his face contorted in puzzlement.

  “All right,” he finally says as he loops his pinkie with mine. “I pinkie swear I won’t go look for the places and will just talk to the police about it.”

  I suck back my tears. “Good.”

  A moment or two drifts by before we pull away. Another handful of seconds tick by before anyone says anything.

  “Can I kiss you and make it better?” He chews on his bottom lip, mulling something over. “I don’t like seeing you cry, especially when I’m the one who caused it.”

  I dry my tears from my cheeks then nod, and he seals his lips to mine, giving me the softest kiss.

  The longer we kiss under the stars, the more I feel at peace. It doesn’t matter if he didn’t say I love you back. I wasn’t expecting him to. I just needed to let him know how much I care about him, and I think I did exactly that.

  Besides, deep down, in his own way, I think he might love me. I can tell through his little touches, kisses, smiles, and how he agreed to do something tonight that he didn’t really want to do, but felt he needed to because he didn’t want to see me hurt.

  Words are just words

  That pass across lips.

  Actions show more

  Than words ever can understand.

  Ayden’s actions are beautiful,

  And tell me all I need to know,

  Feed my soul and give me hope.

  “What can I do to make tonight up to you?” he asks when we finally come up for air.

  “You don’t need to make anything up to me.” I hitch my arms around him. “We had our first fight. So what? It was bound to happen sometime.”

  “Okay, then what should we do to celebrate”—he glances at the hot tub—“because I think sitting in the hot tub is off the table.”

  I thrum my finger against my lip. “I have an idea.”

  He eyes me over with suspicion. “You have that look in your eye.”

  “What look?” I bat my eyelashes innocently.

  He gives me a blank stare. “The look that means you’re about to get us into trouble.”

  “I promise we won’t get in trouble. You might not be too thrilled about it, though.”

  Before he can press for more details, I snatch ahold of his hand and drag him toward his house.

  As we’re rounding the fence, I notice a maroon SUV parked in front of his house.

  “So, that’s the infamous detective?” I smile at the car and give a little wave.

  “You’re such a weirdo,” he jokes then steers me toward the backdoor of his house.

  The alarm goes off when we enter, and he hurries through the darkness to turn it off. I flip on the lights and bend down to untie my boots.

  I feel him move up behind me before I actually see him.

  “Hey.” I stand upright, my back aligning with his chest.

  As he circles his arms around my waist, the air feels electric, sharp zaps biting at my skin.

  He rests his chin on my shoulder. “So, what did you want to do?”

  “I was thinking we could work on that song we’ve been writing . . . and you could sing it for me.”

  “I knew you were up to something, but I already told you I can’t sing.”