Serenading Heartbreak

by Ella Fields

  “You know, you’re probably one of the only girls a guy could randomly drag to the beach and lie in the sand with without wondering why we aren’t fucking.” He huffed, the sound dry with humor. “Or complaining about sand in your hair.”

  My nose and chest bunched, my hand tensing in his. “Sorry,” he said, quick and soft. “I’m…” he sighed, exasperation coating the exhale.

  I sat up. “Let’s go.”

  “Clover, wait.”

  Tearing off my cardigan, I let the breeze carry it to the sand, and then I stepped out of my sleep shorts.

  In nothing but my cotton tank and panties, I waded into the foaming water, shivering as it reached my waist.

  “Stevie!”

  I ignored him. A wave crested, and I dived beneath it, swimming through cold midnight depths toward the moon. Shoving my hair out of my face, I treaded water, clearing the salt from my eyes.

  The roar of the water drowned out his approach, but when he broke through the surface, just in time to keep from being pulled back to the shore in a violent tumble, I smiled.

  Confusion swept his brows together, and he raked a hand over his face, ridding it of water and his hair. “A little warning.”

  Laughing, I spat water at him, my eyes drifting over those broad, naked shoulders. “Nah, I like wondering if you’ll chase me.”

  Water lapped, a gentle push as we stared, and then we both moved at the same time. “What were you reading?” He rubbed at his nostrils, his face bobbing close to mine.

  “A book.”

  Unamused, he hooked an arm around my waist, dragging me closer. Our feet tangled beneath the surface, wanting to join but needed to stay afloat. “You looked more invested than usual.”

  His curious eyes, coupled with his hand sliding beneath my tank, fingers skimming over my lower back, made me relent. “I ordered some romance books online.”

  He didn’t so much as blink. “Yeah? You like them now?”

  Nodding, I admitted, “I wanted some advice, I guess.”

  It took a moment, but then it registered. Everett chuckled, his smile both grim and warm. “Does it feel like we need advice?” Pulling me closer, he urged my legs around his waist, and my hands slid over his bare shoulders. “When we touch, does it feel like we need any kind of instruction manual?” Lifting me, he nudged my cheek with his nose as every solid part of him met every soft part of me.

  Everything coalesced into a quiet hum. The waves, our breaths, and the rapid beating of my heart. “No.” He was right. We didn’t. It came alive, this feeling that coursed between us, and when that happened, nothing else was needed. Just us.

  Humming, he dragged his lips over my cheek, fire crawling in their wake, and whispered across my mouth, “Being with you, I’ve never felt anything more instinctual or more natural in my life.”

  It ached and bloomed, that organ in my chest. How something could grow, knowing it would need to end, wasn’t something I was willing to dissect.

  I took the moment, the feeling of his skin beneath my hands, his own holding me as if he’d never let me sink, and I drowned inside it.

  Our lips collided, our lungs sharing breath as our bodies found purchase among a slippery, perilous environment.

  Graham stabbed a finger on the map spread out over our dining table. “I think we should follow the interstate. Go straight through.”

  I sipped my tea in the doorway, watching on.

  Dad scratched at his beard. “It’s a solid plan, but you need to remember the money you guys have won’t last long. You might need to stop some places longer to make some cash.”

  Everett stared at the map. Those long, thick fingers stroking the scruff lining his chin the only sign he was listening.

  “Between us, we’ve saved enough,” Hendrix said.

  Mom didn’t look convinced. The fine lines that spread from her eyes, around her mouth, and pressed into her forehead deepened as her gaze bounced from Hendrix to Dad to Everett.

  I wondered if I had the same tight look on my own face.

  They were leaving.

  I probably did because later that night when everyone had left, there was a collection of taps on my bedroom window. I opened it to let Everett in, then made sure my door was locked as he climbed through and kicked off his shoes.

  “I got you something,” he said, and I raised my eyes from his worn boots. I doubted he’d worn the same pair since I’d known him, but if not, he would have found some other scuffed-up pair at the town’s thrift store.

  He needs this, I tried to tell myself. We could only love and support him so much. He needed this opportunity to get out and make a better life for himself. And I had to wonder if that was what love was? Did loving someone grant you the ability to smother your own desperation long enough to see theirs? To want to aid in setting them free from their demons within?

  His eyes held mine and softened at what he must’ve seen in them. “Come here.” He set the small silver potted cacti down on my nightstand, then gathered me into his arms.

  My nose found the dip below his throat, and I inhaled deeply, trying to capture his scent, needing to lock it away. “This is so much harder than I thought it would be.”

  “It’s not forever, Clover,” he said, his hand smoothing over the back of my head. “You’ll finish school, I’ll eventually get my head on straight, and we’ll never have to end.”

  Lifting my head from his chest, I stared up into his somber, resolute face. “Eventually.”

  My hands found the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head. My nightgown ended up on the floor with his tattered jeans, socks, and boots. As he climbed over me on the bed, I tucked my fingers into the waistband of my panties and pulled them down.

  He stilled. “Clover, we can’t—”

  “You’re leaving, I’m seventeen, and I don’t know when I’ll see you again.” I kept my tone gentle, but firm. “I’ve waited, Ever. For you.”

  His eyes shut at the name only I called him. When they reopened, they were infused with fire.

  He snatched my panties, tossing them onto his pile of clothes, and then my legs were spread wide, and his mouth was kissing the top of my mound. “Not worthy.”

  My breath hitched when his fingers opened me to the cool breeze drifting in through the open window, and then the velvet warmth of his tongue was sliding through me, over me, dipping inside me.

  I’d never done this before, but then again, before Everett, all I’d done was kiss a few boys and have them make a grab for my breasts.

  It was intoxicating, the sensations that thundered through me. The low hum he made deep in his throat every time my legs shook. “You’ll come before you let me inside you, so come,” he said when I straddled the edge between bliss and euphoria.

  Spasms sharpened and blurred my vision, and my thighs clenched around his head while I struggled to breathe without moaning every time.

  Then, he was leaning over me, his length breaching my slick opening before he dropped his forehead to mine, whispering, “This will probably hurt.” When I said nothing, he groaned. “Wrap your legs around me.”

  I did, and his mouth stole mine, his tongue forcing itself inside at the same time his thickness annihilated the barrier of my virginity. A scream lodged in my throat. My entire body tensed, turning to granite as my teeth sank into Everett’s lip.

  He didn’t stop until he was seated fully, his hips aligned with mine, his fingers holding my chin to keep my mouth on his when I tried to pull away. I knew it was to keep me from waking anyone up.

  With his thumb stroking my cheek and his breathing ragged, he slowly removed his lips. “Are you regretting it now, Clover?” He was smiling, panting, as he shifted slightly. “Jesus Christ. This is…” Again, he groaned, and I felt my skin and nipples pebble. “I need to move.”

  The pain was a burn that wouldn’t quit scorching, but I swallowed and gripped the back of his head. “So move.” I licked the blood I’d caused to pool on his bottom lip, and
his hips reared back, then carefully eased forward.

  Eyes locked on mine, he did it over and over until he could feel the tension dissipate in my touch, in my body, and in my kiss.

  I wanted him like this—always like this—staring at me, making love to me. I closed my eyes before he could see the storm brewing in them and moaned when he kept sliding over parts inside me that made my stomach bubble and quiver.

  “Gonna come,” he panted through gritted teeth, his pace gathering speed until we could hear the wet sound of his skin meeting mine in the dark.

  He pressed a hard kiss to my lips and then rose to his knees, milking himself all over my stomach.

  I didn’t care; I couldn’t take my eyes off his face. He wore an expression of pure, utter rapture I’d never seen before. He heaved and cursed, and then stared at the mess he’d made.

  And I couldn’t stop myself. The idea of anyone else getting to see him the way I had just now… “Don’t leave,” I pleaded, knowing he’d listen but choose not to hear.

  His throat bobbed as his gaze sank into mine, thick brows furrowing. With a loud exhale trailing him, he left the bed and grabbed some tissues from the dresser, then returned to clean my stomach and between my legs.

  Making no comment about the blood I knew had to be there, he wiped, then kissed my mound again. “We should maybe flush these.”

  Sorrow weighed every step as I got up and threw my nightgown on, then traipsed quietly to the bathroom. I took my time cleaning up, staring at my kiss swollen lips and tangled hair, half expecting Everett not to be there when I returned.

  He was, standing in the glow of the moonlight by the window in nothing but his briefs.

  I locked the door behind me, drifting close, my fingers lifting to the muscles lining his shoulders and arms, then dipping over the ridges and curved arch of his spine.

  Reaching behind him for my hands, he pulled until they met over his abs. He entwined our fingers, and my cheek pressed into his sweat-misted back, his heart thudding a fast tempo. “You know staying would continue to kill me slowly.”

  A rogue tear escaped, sliding down my cheek to land on his back. I quickly kissed it away before he could tell what it was. “I know.”

  He sang me to sleep that night, all the while I did my best to keep my heart from bleeding out all over his naked chest.

  It was happening.

  The bus was loaded and leaving smoky plumes in the humid morning air.

  Hendrix sat behind the wheel, unpacking snacks and setting them anywhere he could reach.

  “First stop, Ala-fucking-bama,” came from behind us.

  I turned from where I’d been studying Everett. He’d been rearranging the drum kit below the bus, checking the straps and sandwiching it in the middle of all their suitcases and duffel bags.

  “Get fucked.” Graham laughed, racing over and slapping Dale on the back.

  Hendrix dropped a bag of Skittles and flew off the bus, and slowly, Everett straightened, shifting his sunglasses from his head to shield his eyes.

  They were all laughing and back clapping, and then Everett chucked Dale’s two bags beneath the bus and closed the door with a sharp bang.

  “What changed your mind?” Mom asked when Dale approached to hug my parents goodbye.

  “Well”—he clapped his hands together—“they’ll need someone to keep managing their dumb asses. I couldn’t leave them to the wolves.”

  Mom’s lips were pressed tight, but she relaxed them enough to force a smile.

  After another round of hugs, they all filed onto the bus. Nausea rocked me, fierce and dizzying, and I knew I couldn’t watch them leave.

  With tears blurring my vision, I went back inside.

  A second later, arms wrapped around me from behind, and the scent of whiskey, cigarettes, and clean linen invaded.

  I didn’t have time to ask him why he’d been drinking before noon. Tilting my chin up, he quickly lowered his mouth to mine, his thumbs brushing at the tears dotting my cheeks. “You’re ruining me, Clover. Don’t cry.”

  I said nothing, just kissed him again when he tried to pull away.

  “Rett! He’d better not be taking a dump,” Hendrix called. “Let’s go already.”

  In harsh waves, his chest rose and fell beneath my trembling hands, his grip on my face tight. “Check your nightstand,” was the last thing he said to me before he was gone, and everything changed.

  “It’s too quiet,” Mom said the next morning, sadness visiting her eyes and mouth.

  Dad hummed. “How long are we thinking before they break down or give up and come home?”

  That made Mom smile, and she speared a piece of melon. “Three months.”

  “Three?” Dad took a sip of tea, shaking his head as he set his mug down. “That’s generous.”

  I knocked my scrambled eggs around my plate, knowing in my heart they were wrong but wishing they were right.

  “I’m giving them two at most. They have Everett’s smarts to dig them out of trouble for a while, but they’ll eventually find trouble he can’t fix.”

  I pushed back from the table. “I’m going to hang at Adela’s for a little while.”

  Mom nodded. “You okay?”

  No. I was far from okay, but I wasn’t allowed to be heartbroken because the boy I’d fallen in love with had left. I was only allowed to be sad my friends and brother had gone. “Yeah, it’s just weird here without them. I need a shake or something.”

  My fingers had already started wearing the note he’d left behind with his very first guitar pick taped to it.

  In a world filled with thorns and poisonous flowers, somehow, I was lucky enough to find you.

  My clover.

  He’d found me, but he didn’t want to keep me. The selfish part of me hoped my parents were right, and the band would come home sooner rather than later. For good.

  Turns out they were wrong.

  Hendrix stopped calling home as much after the summer ended, and all too soon, quiet was the new normal in the Sandrine house.

  And I hated it.

  “Shots, shots, shots,” Davis hollered, and I threw them back, feeling lightheaded but alive for the first time in months.

  “Yeah, birthday girl!” Adela looped her arm around me, and I choked, laughing as vodka dribbled down my chin.

  She’d been by my side through every broken heart fest, supplying ice cream, shakes, hugs, and an endless number of thrillers due to my inability to watch or read anything even slightly romantic.

  She was the only one who knew, though I was beginning to wonder if that wasn’t exactly the case. Still, I was thankful for her. Grateful I had someone to help pull me through the blur of days that’d passed since Orange Apples took to the road.

  I wiped the vodka from my chin, then tossed my arms into the air, dancing my way out of Davis’s kitchen.

  “Girl, your phone is ringing like crazy,” Adela yelled over the music, pulling it from her purse.

  I waved her off, and then, through the drunken haze I’d plunged into, it dawned.

  Snatching the phone so fast that Adela laughed, I answered with, “Ever?” as I made my way outside onto the back deck.

  It wasn’t that much quieter outside, but I still heard him. “Happy Birthday, Clover.”

  “I miss you,” I said. “So fucking much.” I ignored the people around me who either snickered or moved away.

  “Where are you?”

  “Where are you?” I volleyed.

  “Tennessee,” he clipped. “Answer the question.”

  “I’m at a party.” I stopped to hiccup. “Davis’s parents are out of town, and it’s my birthday, so he threw one.” Silence. “Hello?” I checked my phone to make sure he was still there. “Ever?”

  “You’re drunk?”

  I snorted. “Just a little, maybe.”

  “Jesus Christ.” The line went dead and panic shook me so hard and fast, I leaned over the railing just in time to puke into the garden.

&n
bsp; Adela found me a minute later as I was sniffing back tears and sliding to the wooden deck. “Shit, what happened?”

  “Everett happened.” I hiccupped again. “Then I barfed on the poor flowers.”

  Adela crouched down in front of me, cringing and swiping away some puke with a tissue from her purse. “We need to get you home.”

  “Mom,” I said. “Call my mom.”

  Adela hesitated. “Are you sure? You’re pretty drunk, Stevie.”

  I nodded, trying to stand. She helped me up, and we waded back through the house, the bass from the music making my head pound.

  Mom arrived within five minutes, clad in her nightgown and with her face mask still on. Adela opened the car door, helping me into the front before she climbed into the back.

  “That’s some get-together, honey,” Mom drawled, eyeing the raging party.

  “Yeah,” I croaked. “It turned out to be a bigger thing than I expected.”

  Shaking her head, Mom turned the car around and headed to Adela’s place.

  None of us spoke until we’d pulled up outside the two-story beachside home, and Adela thanked Mom for the ride. “I’ll call you tomorrow, see how you’re doing.”

  “Thanks,” I told her as she closed the door.

  Mom sighed, then started the short drive home. But when we pulled into the drive that once held a mammoth-sized bus, she made no move to vacate the car.

  Neither did I, though that was partially due to feeling as if I might be sick again, and mostly to do with not wanting to go inside after I’d just heard his voice. A voice that haunted the halls of our home and the walls of my heart.

  “I’m guessing you’re finally ready to talk about this if you called me instead of walking home or catching a ride.”

  I nodded, not sure I was ready, but positive I couldn’t lie in this state. Fiddling with my phone in my lap, I admitted, “He called me.”

  “Everett?” she asked.

  “Yeah, and I don’t know, he got mad and hung up.” Tears welled and came rushing out.

  Mom sat with that a moment. “You and him… how long?”