Burn With Me: New Adult Romance (Take Me Home Book 1) (Take Me Home Series)

by SJ Cavaletti

  “Ah…” He said, but didn’t get up.

  “What do you want, Dad?” I said, the sting I tried to convey dampened by the feathers in my pillow.

  “I don’t want anything,” was all he said.

  At the time I was annoyed at how annoying my annoying Dad could be. Making me feel guilty for being venomous when his kindness was impossible to break. I threw the pillow off my face and pushed myself up into a more seated position.

  “Go on, Dad. Say what you need to say and then leave me alone, please.”

  My Dad shuffled himself higher up my bed so we were now face to face. My hair was frazzled and frayed across my face. It was long then. He took both his hands and smoothed it off me and then said these words, as he touched my nose gently with each one he had said.

  “Don’t let the person who didn’t love you keep you from the one who will.”

  But it did. If I really thought about it, honestly, after Jonas, I never let myself love anyone. And now here I was. Hanging out with another iconic looking man.

  Drake could be a classic one day.

  Feel the fear. Do it anyway.

  I grabbed the bottle of absinthe and shoved it in my satchel. It would take a lot of liquid courage to do that.

  18

  El was always ready before me. He was the friend you had that always turned up ten minutes early, even after years of knowing you’d never be ready.

  He sat on the bench in the kitchen area, flipping through a couple magazines and books left here. I left my bedroom door open so we could talk as I pinched pomade onto a few strands of unruly, frizzy curls.

  “I didn’t know Jimi Hendrix wrote a book?” El asked, picking one up that I’d left there.

  I poked my head out for a second, “Yeah. I’ve read lots of Hendrix material. And books from his favorite books list. You know he was from Seattle, right?”

  “Really?” El flipped through the pages of Starting at Zero. “I don’t know that much about him except that he was an amazing guitarist and did a lot of drugs.”

  I popped my head away from the mirror.

  “Do you know he used to carry a broom around his elementary school, pretending it was a guitar? And a teacher or something noticed it, and tried to get funding for a guitar to help him with what she said was psychological problems. No funding given. His Dad refused to listen to this teacher, so he kept walking around like with that broom. A couple years later, he found a ukulele in a clear out of a derelict apartment, doing work with his Dad. It had one string, and he just plucked that one string, playing single notes. He didn’t get a real guitar, until he was fifteen and not an electric one until a year later… I mean, this man was destined to have a guitar in hand. He started with a damned broom… what a life. Tragic.”

  I turned my attention back to my hair.

  El finished flicking and put the book down. “Yeah, what is that one song of his I like so much? It’s The Wind Cries Maeve or something like that?”

  El chuckled to himself. He didn’t make jokes very often and when he did; they were terrible as this one.

  “Ha ha. Mary. It’s The Wind Cries Mary. But go on and ask. I know you want to.”

  I knew El wanted to ask me about Maeve. Elias was a sucker for love. He was the biggest softie and yet let no one in. I was pretty sure he still held a torch for his ex. Or if he didn’t still love her, maybe it was guilt he hung on to. The relationship had ended almost as badly as Romeo and Juliet.

  “Well… you know… I just wonder what’s going on with Maeve? You seem smitten.”

  “Smitten?! Why would you use that word? Smitten.”

  “Tell me you’re not.”

  I said nothing, just threw my vest over my shoulders.

  “Dude,” El stood up and came just outside my doorway, “I have never seen you chase a girl.”

  “Chase?”

  “Man, your one-word answers are giving you away.”

  “Ah, nothing gets passed you.”

  “So what? You’re not going to give me anything? Do you think you’ll keep in touch or anything?”

  I sat down on my bed and started putting on my boots. “Thing is, yeah, I do like her. Besides being gorgeous, she’s super smart and we have a lot in common, like art and the way we see life. And it feels like she would actually encourage my music… so many women I’ve been with like the music at first but don’t realize that if I want to actually do it for a living and stop flinging fish, I need to spend my time writing, practicing. You know, I don’t know what Maeve does, but she knows a lot about the music industry. I think. She tried to help me with the Jay situation.”

  “Wait. What do you mean she tried to help?”

  “She just asked me loads of legal type questions. Like maybe there was loophole she knew about and I could get my songs back.”

  “That would be great.”

  “Nah. I’m not a pushover, but I don’t want that shit back. It’s dirty now.”

  “Yeah. I know what you mean.”

  “Anyway, she is cool as fuck. I can say that much.”

  “Why do I feel like you’re resisting? I don’t see a problem here.”

  “There isn’t a problem. Just… El, if I’m going to keep pursuing music I’m going to need to keep my head down. Write a lot more. Make connections. Figure out a new name for myself, branding, the works. Maeve. Fuck. I would want to spend every minute with a girl like that. Shit. Look at me now. Chasing her down in the desert. What happened to me? It used to be the other way around. The girl’s got me dizzy.”

  “I hear what you’re saying. But you never know. Maybe she’s Yoko Ono. Or maybe she’s Sharon Osborne.”

  I looked up after finishing my laces. “Look at you and your rock n’roll trivia.”

  “You’ve worn off on me. Anyway, just saying it’s possible to find someone that will be a part of your dream. And you can be a part of theirs.”

  I stood and put my arm around him. “Bud. You are a hopeless romantic. And you got me believing you could be right.”

  “Just sayin’. It kinda feels like you should meet her after all this. I’ve never seen you like this with anyone before.”

  I grabbed my backpack from a coat hook near the door and flung it over my shoulder. “Yeah, well… I’ve never felt like this before.” I flung open the door to the motorhome. “And I never met a chick at a funeral before either… well, a few days before one. You know what I mean. It makes it feel like there are rules or something. Like waiting a day to text after a blind date.”

  “It kinda sounded like you already broke some sort of rule last night?”

  “Bro…”

  When we went outside, Maeve was already there. She spoke to Jasmine and Flick with a drink in her hand. And her outfit. If bondage was a delicate thing, that would be how she wrapped herself up this evening. Her shoulders covered in feathers.

  I wanted to pretend it was a nod to me. To my pet name for her. A fairy had to have wings, after all. My jaw clenched and my teeth pushed together, a savage feeling surged through my body. Like a wolf must feel when it tears apart its prey. Hungry.

  She already seemed tipsy. For some unreasonable explanation, I felt a twang of hurt that she hadn’t come to get me first. Come to see me. But why? She wasn’t my girl. And even if she was, I didn’t own her.

  But how long had she been here? She was visibly affected by alcohol and she couldn’t have been here long as I only left her behind about an hour ago.

  “Hey, hey, hey…” Flick came over to me, also having thrown more than one back. She grabbed my arm, escorting me to the group. Even though all the guys were there, too, I felt like I was walking into the ladies’ room for gossip between courses. They had already been talking about something.

  “Did you know,” Flick asked as we landed at the edge of a mini circle made by Flick, Helena, Jasmine and Maeve, “That Maeve is a lawyer?”

  Maeve’s eyes shone like polished mahogany, but she said nothing.

  “No,” I
said to Flick while looking at Maeve, “I actually didn’t know that. But it doesn’t surprise me. I would have guessed something like that. Or a brain surgeon.”

  Maeve came closer and flapped her hand on my arm as if I was being silly.

  “How long have you ladies been at it without me? I want some of what you’re having.”

  Maeve gave me a childish smile, so cute and innocent. I hadn’t seen her like this. I almost wondered if she had been dosed. It had happened more than once at Uyu.

  El wandered up with two cups and handed one to me.

  “Did Joey pour you my stuff?” Jasmine asked.

  “Yeah. What is it?” El asked. “He said it was a surprise.”

  “So I had this Russian like, oligarch, or whatever. I dunno some filthy rich Eastern European that I gave surf lessons to at home. He was so happy, I got him to pop up on his second try. He gave me a mega tip and stopped by the next day with this bottle I didn’t recognize. Anyway, I saved it for here. Looked special.”

  I put the cup to my nose to sniff. “What the hell is in here?”

  “It’s strong,” Maeve said, leaning into me, though I wasn’t sure if she wanted to be close or if she lost her balance.

  Jasmine grabbed the bottle from the table behind her and read the label, “Balkan 176 Vodka. Let’s just say the proof could get us all through this entire night.”

  El grabbed the bottle from Jasmine and read, “Geez. This is a hundred seventy-six proof.”

  Guessing that Maeve weighed little more than a hundred pounds (not that I was good at guessing these things) it was no wonder one drink already affected her. Maybe she hadn’t even finished one drink. She still had a cup in her hand.

  “Well, come on guys,” Jasmine said, lifting her cup, “Bottoms up. How do you say that in Russian?”

  “Nostrovia?” El asked.

  Jasmine concurred, “Nostrovia. Here’s to Dimitri! Wherever you are, come visit me for a surf again, Braddah.”

  “To Dimitri,” we all cheered in unison.

  Holy shit. The liquid seared by throat.

  “Dude. Jas. I might never sing again…” I held my throat. I was used to throwing back shots, but this was like breathing fire.

  Maeve lifted her cup up, took a sip and coughed. “It’s really strong. I actually brought a small bottle of Absinthe as well, for tonight.”

  “Maybe tomorrow,” I said.

  With her guard down, Maeve looked even more stunning. More inviting. The door was open, and all I wanted to do was crawl inside her and plant a secret message to call me when all this was over. When the magic of Uyu faded and the fate that brought us together told us to do the work ourselves.

  Friday night at Uyu, though not the last night, was for many people the last super big party night. Because tomorrow, Saturday night, had different vibes. Sure, people danced, drank, partied. The festivities even began with a drag parade. But as Saturday nights wore on and they set the cathedral and clock tower on fire, with mini dust tornadoes dancing around them like little the little angels and devils, most people grew serious.

  Serious Uyu was drawing to a close.

  Serious about the promises they made here.

  Serious about not breaking them once actual life was upon us.

  And tomorrow would be like that more than ever for most of us standing here right now. Jas and Koa were going to perform with me, I was going to sing my song. El asked to come along as well, to support Maeve in his own special and not in your face way.

  El was like the wind. Invisible but powerful. I always wanted him around when shit was going down.

  But tonight, if I played my cards right, I would fall asleep next to this black-haired queen of spades and we could have one more problem-free night.

  Pika rubbed his hands together fast, like he tried to start a fire and walked into the center of the group. “Time to hit the road, my people!”

  I saw more than one of us take a deep breath of preparation before downing the rest of the hot sauce in our cups.

  Maeve, finishing hers, put her cup in her satchel. “Shit. I’m not sure I should be driving a bike.”

  “Ride with me.”

  “Is that safe?”

  Putting my arm around her, I started walking her to my bike. “I don’t have a seatbelt for you, but it’s probably safer that you ‘driving’ your own, in the state you’re in.”

  “The state I’m in?”

  We arrived at my bike and I asked, “Don’t you trust me?”

  She looked up at me and her eyebrows tried to connect, as if to make a circuit to produce better thoughts and consider my question with a rational mind. Did she trust me?

  She took my hand, smiled into my eyes and said, “Be careful with me.”

  For a moment, everything but my thoughts froze. I tried to be careful with her. I was really, truly trying. But being careful might be the very thing that would keep us apart. My body didn’t want that. Every time it was near her, it was like my skin was a horizon lit up by a million tiny sunrises.

  She climbed on the top tube of my frame and sat like a Victorian duchess might ride a horse. I wrapped my arms around her and grabbed the handles on either side. I waited for the gang to go off so I could grab the back of the peloton and not need to know where I was going.

  My arms on either side of her, she was mine right now. Secure in my space. We rode through the night, our speed giving just enough breeze to blow her sexy French schoolgirl bob toward my face. Her hair, sprayed with perfume, intoxicated me with a sweet but sensual hit of vanilla. Rose. Mandarin.

  Expensive.

  Luxurious.

  Edible.

  I could have ridden that bike forever and chased the night westward, so we never had to wake up to another day.

  But all too soon, we pulled up at an enormous structure that looked like a beehive. The cells of the honeycomb lit up sporadically, like slow strobe lights, and I wondered how everyone didn’t fall in love at Uyu. It was the equivalent of wanting to have sex in Vegas.

  I parked up the bike, held it stable with one hand and wrapped my arm around Maeve with the other, lifting her down to the ground.

  I felt funny. In part, the Balkan spirit kicked in, in part, it felt like the top layer of my skin floated an inch above my muscle, and was being pulled toward this woman. Like a flower following the arc of the sun. Gentle. Not dramatic. But necessary.

  Necessary. Maeve felt necessary.

  “Thanks for the lift,” she said as she stepped toward the hive.

  “Maeve,” I grabbed her hand and turned her around. She stumbled slightly and gave a drunk giggle. “Tonight…”

  She took my other hand in hers. Now we faced each other, holding hands, a full on electrical circuit running laps through us. And I knew what I wanted to say.

  “How about tonight,” I said, urging her hands toward my stomach and her body closer to mine, “How about tonight, we’re just… together. No thinking about tomorrow. No thinking about the next day. Just you and me. And this crazy party. No worries. No inhibitions…”

  As I spoke, her jovial expression gave way to a more thoughtful one. She swallowed. Her hands let go of mine and she smoothed her hair, almost nervously.

  I still thank Dimitri for the liquid courage. Truth in a bottle. For giving me the strength to say those words.

  Her round, chocolate eyes stared out joyfully, even though she didn’t smile. “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  “Okay,” she affirmed.

  “Okay. Great. Time to dance, then?”

  Still holding my hands, she swung them back and forth, playfully and asked, “Can I have a piggyback?”

  “I’ll be your designated driver all night. At your service…”

  I turned my back to her, and she jumped on. Though barely. I only just caught underneath her butt and pushed her into pushing as she slid down. She rested her ear on my shoulder, her lips faced my neck and as she jostled slightly, with each step I took, her breath w
armed my neck in intervals.

  Her soft voice entered my ear, “You smell like the kind of cologne I would buy a boy on Valentine’s Day.”

  We reached the hive, and I pulled her around onto my front, our faces close, I touched my nose to hers. “I wouldn’t have guessed you the Valentines Day type. It’s not too commercial for you?”

  Her head shook back and forth, gently, slowly, then her eyes settled on me. Her lips parted, but instead of a kiss which seemed perched and ready to take flight, she said, “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

  She flicked my nose with the tip of hers, her lips brushed mine and my body let out a sigh of breath that I didn’t even know I was holding on to til then.

  “But don’t worry. That’s my worst secret.”

  “Your worst quality is that you like Valentines Day?”

  A tilted head to one side. Coy. Silly. Drunk.

  My dick twitched. With her legs wrapped around me, her lacey ass in my hands and that sex kitten look on her face.

  I tilted mine in tandem. “Funny. I didn’t quite take you for such a good girl. I thought you’d have at least a few dark secrets.”

  She planted a quick kiss on my lips. It lasted only one sweet second, but it was enough to make my pants feel tighter.

  “Well I am,” she said, “I am a good girl. Is that too boring for a rock star boy like you?”

  “I like good girls. Anyway, you’re naughty where it matters.”

  She kissed me again. This time, her lips nudged mine open and her tongue snaked into mine. She tasted like alcohol and peppermint gum. Ambrosia. Angel’s food. Her tongue massaged mine and my dick pushed into her, she manoeuvred her pussy right on to the hard mound in my pants.

  In the night's darkness, we felt alone.

  Unfortunately, we weren’t.

  Suddenly I heard El’s voice, “Oh sorry…” He trailed off and turned around.

  We opened our eyes.

  “El, come back,” I said.

  “Sorry guys. I didn’t realize you were… it’s dark.”

  Maeve buried her face in my shoulder bashfully.

  “I just came to see if you guys were coming in.”

  Yes. I would be coming in alright.