Finally, after two hours of shopping in downtown Canon Beach, I snapped.
“What’s your problem today?”
Zane blinked over at me, his ice cream cone melting all over his right hand. “Huh?”
“You have marshmallows.” I pointed. “On your ice cream.”
Another blink. “Okay?”
“And you let them fall to the ground, like at least four marshmallows lost their lives on your watch, and you just let it happen!”
A smile cracked through his indifferent façade. “Fallon, listen to me very carefully. Marshmallows?” His brown eyes twinkled. “They don’t have souls, ergo, if one falls onto the ground, it’s not going to hell.”
“Yes.” I rolled my eyes. “Because that was my concern, their salvation.” I handed him a napkin. “It’s wasteful.”
“Why do you care?” he snapped, I could tell it surprised him because his eyes widened before he hung his head and mumbled out, “Sorry.”
He took the napkin and slowly cleaned off his hand then, the shock of all shocks, tossed his entire cone into the trash and put on his sunglasses.
“Wow,” Suddenly sick to my stomach, I threw mine away and wiped my sticky hands, “Is this about yesterday?”
Zane tilted his head. “Yesterday?”
“Last night,” I whispered, as heat stormed my cheeks. “Look, I told you I was sorry okay? I’m not wired that way. I can’t just sleep with you then cheer happily when you get your next Grammy. Do you realize how bad it would suck to tell my grandkids, oh look that guy? The one in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame? We had one great night together.”
He didn’t speak for a really long time, just stared at me with his jaw hanging open, his black Ray-Bans only showing me my own pissed off reflection. “You really think you’d tell your grandkids about me?”
“That?” I threw my hands upward. “That’s what you fixate on?”
“Well…” He shrugged. “It’s kind of a big deal.”
“I don’t see how.”
He stood quickly, nearly bumping into me as he crowded my space with his nearness. I refused to back away or run, even though both sounded like stellar options. “It means you’d remember me.”
“You would be hard to forget.”
“You mean that.” He said it like he was in awe or something.
“Of course I mean it. And before you go getting all arrogant, it’s a compliment. Okay? Something people say to other people, so they realize how great they really are. Which brings us back to the main topic of discussion. Right now you get this.” I held out my hand. “You get friendship. Now shake on it, and get out of this weird funk. It’s freaking me out and ruining your happy-go-lucky vibe. Meaning, if you keep acting like someone killed your dog, you aren’t going to be creative enough to even write a chord let alone a few more songs.”
His smile grew, his hand wrapped around mine. “I’m sorry, Fallon.”
He sounded sincere, my eyes narrowed. “A real apology?”
Somehow, he went from shaking my hand to wrapping an arm around my body as we walked back to the car. “I did think about last night.” He stopped walking and faced me. “Up until I fell asleep.”
His hand went from warm and strong to clammy as he tried to tug it away, there was a story there, something he wasn’t telling me.
“And?” I prodded.
“And, none of your damn business,” he said in a cheerful tone that told me it was okay to push, maybe not a lot, but more than I was.
We bypassed the car and started walking out toward the beach. It was big enough that he wouldn’t be noticed; at least I hoped not. I knew an area that had a few secluded caves. If the tide was out then we would at least have a bit of privacy, which he needed. Sometimes I needed it too.
Life was like that.
No matter your age or experiences, everyone needed a breather. Everyone.
We walked in silence, occasionally jumping over the small streams of ocean water. Finally, as the wind howled around us through the rocks, we made it to the first cave, and then around the cove.
I sat down first.
He followed.
Wind whistled in an eerie cadence as sand danced around our bodies, most likely getting into every crevice possible.
But he was already more relaxed.
Visibly, he had more color.
Though he’d gone from pissed to defeated.
“I had some bad dreams.”
“I used to have night terrors,” I offered. “They sucked, my parents would come running into the room thinking I was getting murdered, only to find me wide-eyed, on the floor, screaming at the top of my lungs.”
“That’s terrifying.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Don’t you grow out of that?”
“I did.” I shrugged. “Around eight or nine, which even then, it’s rare to have them that late in life.”
He frowned down at the ground. “Did you remember the dreams?”
“Never.”
“I remember mine.”
I held my breath, my chest built with pressure as it swelled inside my body, threatening to shake my careful control, I steeled my expression. “Last night’s? Do you remember it?”
He gave a silent nod.
“Are we talking nightmare where you’re getting chased by a giant marshmallow — you know, something that won’t ever happen — or something real?”
“Real.” He swallowed, his hands started to shake like the week before, only this time, I knew he wanted comfort — not a sugar fix.
So I held Zane Andrews’ hand.
Like I was important.
Like I was enough to keep him grounded.
And he squeezed it back — like that was true.
I stopped digging.
Instead, I focused on our hands, on the warmth of our bodies touching, and wished that we were two different people, that he was just a boy and I was just a girl.
Both going to college.
Both ready to start their lives.
Apart? And maybe together.
It would be nice.
Better than nice.
It would be everything.
“I was in seven foster homes,” Zane whispered. “After my grandma died.”
A thousand emotions slammed into me at his disclosure. I gathered them all and pushed them down, refusing to let them show on my face. It was hard, and eventually I looked away, worried something would show. “Well, that completely sucks.”
He shrugged. “I was a good student. So as long as I had a bed to sleep in…” Another shrug. “They don’t like splitting up families, but after she died, it didn’t matter anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“Girls always liked me, gave me attention, I ignored them, focusing on music to get me through the night, and school to get me through the day.” He squeezed my hand, I looked up. “I think it turned into a game, the more I turned them down, the more they wanted me.”
Yeah, I could only imagine.
“Is that why you do what you do?”
“Pardon?” He pulled off his sunglasses; his eyes worked like laser beams, tracking my every movement.
Uncomfortable with the scrutiny, I cleared my throat and tried to keep the teasing in my tone. “You know, the sleeping around, is that why you do it? The whole Saint thing, the Confess Your Sins tour—”
“Someone really needs to take the power of Google away from you.”
I laughed. “Until you, the only thing I think I’d ever typed into the search engine was how to not fail biology.”
“Too bad I didn’t know you last year. I could have rocked that course for you.”
I warmed all over with awareness. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
“And what does the tour name have to do with anything? With me?”
My eyebrows shot up. “Zane, the hashtag #zanewatch has been trending for the past year. And the pictures associated, you kissing girls, you touching girls, them t
ouching you, with more hashtags of confessions, even the girls who have been with you say you’re the best they’ve ever had.”
He burst out laughing.
“What!” I laughed with him. “I mean I’m sure it’s good for your ego.”
“You have no idea, how good. Gives a man confidence and all that.” His head fell back as he laughed harder. “Wow, those little liars.”
I frowned, my smile fading. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know, Fallon. I mean, who knows, you may tell your grandchildren one day…”
I slugged him in the arm.
“Ouch!” He chuckled darkly as I kept pounding him in the arm. “Fine, fine, I’ll confess one sin, but you have to confess one first.”
“Ugh, you suck.”
He winked.
This was why Zane was magnetic, why people were obsessed, because he made you feel like you were his world, not just a part of it. “Okay, my confession is—”
“Make it good or it doesn’t count,” he sang in a taunting voice.
I shushed him and closed my eyes.
“Oh wow, things just got real folks, the eyes are closed.”
I burst out laughing and then took a deep breath. “Okay, my confession,” I stole a peek at his expression, he was leaning forward expectantly. “I’m terrified of animals.” I sighed. “I mean that’s not why I don’t eat them, but seriously, they terrify me, birds, bees…” I shuddered. “Antelope.”
“Who the hell is scared of an antelope?”
I cringed. “They have horns.” I pointed to my head and made a gagging noise. “And I mean, it’s just not normal, the look animals get in their eyes. Like they know things.”
His expression sobered and then he burst out laughing so hard a tear fell down his face.
“Okay, that’s it.” I tried to stand. “We can’t be friends anymore.”
“Sit down.” He tugged my arm, but I wasn’t able to catch myself, so instead I fell against his chest, my legs sliding on either side of his body in a perfect straddle.
I shuddered.
Ugh, my physical response to him was ever so helpful.
His grin grew as I felt his arousal through his skintight jeans.
Sorry, Grandma.
Sorry that I loved the feel of him.
That I loved the fact that it was me! I did that to him.
To Zane Andrews.
He moved his hips a bit.
I clenched my teeth so I wouldn’t moan and make a complete fool out of myself, as he braced himself with his elbows and leaned upward. “My turn?”
I nodded.
He locked eyes with me, a flicker of emotion crossed his face, emotion that looked like doubt — fear. “It’s not real.”
“What’s not real?”
“I’m Saint, care to confess your sins?” he asked in his dark, sultry voice. Then he shrugged, completely back into character. “The girls. The tweets. The pictures. The photo shoots. If people see that I’m that way, then I control it, they want the sinner with the name of saint. They don’t want the guy who goes home early after concerts and works or crashes, they don’t want the guy who watches reality TV and eats too many marshmallows. The world demands good guys — yet the good guys never win. The bad guys? The monsters? The alphas? The players? They’re glorified, we glorify them. Therefore, my agent created a persona, and I went with it, because it works for my brand, it works for me, but it’s not really me.”
I frowned. “So none of it is real? But there are pictures and—“
“You see what I want you to see. You see what my brand wants you to see, a guy who loves women possibly too much, who relishes in the bad, and looks so damn good doing it, it must be okay. You see Saint Andrews, the popstar.”
“Then who are you? Really?”
He hesitated, then reached up and brushed a kiss across my cheek. “Zane Andrews, the virgin.”
Fallon
Waves crashed into the rocky shore. Seagulls screeched in the distance.
I stared.
“Are you going to pass out or something?” Zane whispered, “Because my other confession is I don’t know CPR well enough to save you from the birds before they start feeding off your cute little body.”
I gasped and then stumbled backwards with a horrified expression. “I’m the most horrible person on this planet.”
“Fallon—”
“I am.” Tears clogged in my throat. “I just assumed, like everyone else, and you let me, but I mean what were you supposed to do and—” My head pounded, and I struggled for breath. “I’ve been basically accusing you of being a complete slut to your face for the past three weeks.”
He winced. “Right, but in your defense, you didn’t know.”
“No!” I stood and started pacing. “Don’t take it easy on me. I’ve always taken pride in being one of those people, the kind that don’t judge, that just accept people as they are, but I’m a complete hypocrite!”
“Stop pacing, the sand ants might get you.” Zane crossed his arms and yawned, while I started jumping into the air and slamming my feet against the sand in an effort to kill them all. “Or you could just scare them, so they willingly sacrifice their lives via a flip-flop earthquake.”
“Are they on me? Are any on me?” I screamed running around in a circle while trying to shake the sand out of my clothes.
“Yeah, like five hundred. We may have to burn your clothes. Well, sorry to say this, Fallon, but you need to strip.”
I stopped and glared. “You’re not funny.”
“I’m hilarious.” He winked. “Now where are we on the whole stripping thing?”
I shuddered as I looked down at my arm and of course, one ant, one tiny ant was crawling toward my face, it was enough to make me scream all over again, this time launching myself in Zane’s direction. “Get it off!”
“Whoa!” He backed up while I flailed my arm in front of his face.
“GET IT OFF!” I yelled louder, my arm sailing into his nose, I heard a crunching noise before he cursed and fell to the ground holding his face.
“Oh, no!” I fell to my knees and grabbed his arm. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry!”
He tilted his head back. “I’m pretty sure you just punched me in the face over an ant.”
“I think it was… red.” Like my face. Lame excuse.
His eyes teared up as he blinked a few times then narrowed his gaze on me. “You do realize I went from confessing one of my biggest secrets in the world to you, to getting punched in the face, all within the span of three minutes, doesn’t really bode well for this friendship, right?”
“Sorry.” I cringed. “But you were the one who said something about ants!”
“Because the minute I told you I was a virgin you couldn’t get away quick enough!” he shouted back.
“Because that makes you too perfect!” I matched his voice, shoving my body against his. “You aren’t allowed to be a virgin too! It’s not fair! Maybe that’s why I punched you! It’s the universe’s way of getting even!”
“The hell it is!” he roared and then winced. “I’m being punished for having self-control, is that it?” He spread his arms wide and then lay back against the sand. “May as well let the ants take me.”
“That’s suicide,” I joked.
“We had some good times.” Zane closed his eyes and smirked. “But I think I’ll take my chances with the ants, at least they want to touch me.”
“I think any woman with the ability to breathe and at least chase you down, wants to touch you.”
“Ah, the man becomes the antelope, the woman the lion.”
“Yes.” I laughed. “Exactly where I was going with that analogy.”
“Well, at least I like antelope.”
“Have you ever even met one?” I rolled my eyes and lay against his chest. My hand found his, he squeezed.
“Don’t be ridiculous, you don’t meet antelope, you discover them in the wild, and I can attest to them bein
g completely friendly. Clearly, it’s the ants you need to worry about. And the local girls with glasses who somehow know how to pack a punch in tiny little bodies.”
“Sorry.” I cringed, ducking my head into his chest further. “But look? I’m lying down with you and the ants.”
“It’s almost like Romeo and Juliet, both willing to die for one another.”
“Yes.” I laughed against his chest. “Exactly like that.”
“Come bitter conduct! Come unsavory guide! Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on. The dashing rocks thy seasick, weary bark! Here’s to my love. O true apothecary!”
“Thy drugs are quick,” I added in a hoarse whisper as Zane leaned down, tilting my chin toward his lips.
“Thus,” he whispered gruffly. “With a kiss… I die.”
And Zane Andrews kissed me.
Again.
Zane
I was kissing her again.
It was becoming a thing, just like casual hand holding, or touching her, my lips had this insane mad desire to taste hers — and I watched myself, the self-control, the insecurity of people using me for their own selfish reasons, slowly slip away with each piece of myself I gave — each piece she took.
Because that’s what kissing was.
Personal.
Intimate.
A very real way to share your feelings about someone without actually saying them — I was a wordsmith, it was my job to make people believe with my words that I was in love with them, that I was in love with love.
But my lips?
They had always been mine.
My virginity, mine.
They couldn’t take it — because I refused to give it.
Nobody should ever feel like they have to give pieces of themselves in order to gain love, security, acceptance, I knew that better than anyone did — because I’d had to grow up without all of the above.
Until finally, I was given it right along with fame.
But like so many things, it was reserved for when my albums sold, when I made people money. It wasn’t real.
Until now.
Now it felt real.
In her arms, it was beginning to feel too real.
“Zane.” Fallon pulled away, her black glasses askew on her face, a few freckles made themselves known, just adding to her cute face. “You probably need to stop quoting Shakespeare and kissing me on the beach if you want to stay friends.”
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