Inspiring You
Page 8
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We make out for at least another hour before we put our clothes back on and lie down on my bed side by side.
“You should just spend the night,” I say as I trace the folds of his fingers.
“I wish I could, but I don’t think your dad would appreciate coming home to that.”
“My dad’s way more chill than he was when he first learned about us.”
“Yeah, maybe . . . But since I want him to stay chill, I think I should probably not be in your bed when he gets home.”
I jut out my lip, knowing he’s a sucker for the move. “That sounds like no fun at all.”
He laughs, shaking his head as he rolls on his side. “As much as I love giving you your way, I can’t this time.”
“Oh fine.” I sulk. “Can we at least do something fun tomorrow, though?” Before Monday when everything could change.
“I actually promised Everson I’d go to his football game with him.” He strokes my cheekbone and my eyelashes flutter uncontrollably. “You should come with me.”
“To a football game? Blah.” I make a face. “But if that’s what you’re doing, then count me in.” I dazzle him with a grin. “Man, it’s a good thing I love you.”
A small, rare smile graces his lips then he kisses me again.
“You taste minty,” he whispers against my mouth. “And kind of sugary.”
“That’s because I just ate mint chocolate chip ice cream before you came over.”
He takes another taste, before propping up onto his elbow. “Tell me something happy. I need happy right now.”
“Happy, huh?” I drum my finger against my lips. “Well, today at school, I won an award for that project I entered in that art contest.”
“Really?” The pain in his eyes briefly diminishes. “That’s amazing, Lyric, seriously.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty cool. The sucky part is the award came with a scholarship, which I have no use for at the moment. My mom wasn’t very happy about it, which I guess I get. I mean, she’s an artist, and it’s pretty baffling to her that she has a daughter who’s turning down an art scholarship. I had to explain to her that while I love to draw, I’d much rather be singing and spreading my awesomeness through music, even if sometimes the thought of singing onstage makes me want to puke.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’ve been doing amazing with your stage fright.”
“Yeah, I guess so.” She mulls over something, seeming reluctant. “Can I ask you something?”
“You can ask me anything.”
“What do you want to do?”
His fingers trail down my neck to my chest. “What do you mean?”
I roll on my side and hitch my leg over his hip. “I mean, when we graduate. Do you think you’ll go to college ever?”
“Maybe . . . I actually haven’t really thought about it too much.”
“Well, now that you are thinking about it, can you see yourself tied down with classes?” I ask, eager to hear his answer.
“Not really.” He contemplates his answer. “I honestly just want to play my guitar. It makes me feel calm inside and happy.”
I smile at that. “I don’t think you’ve ever said that before.”
“Said what?”
“That something makes you happy.”
“You make me happy too,” he says softly.
“It’s nice to hear you say that, Shy Boy. “ I wink at him. “My life is now complete, which makes me very, very happy.”
A ghost smile rises on his lips. “Good, I’m glad you’re happy.”
“Of course I’m happy. I get to be here with you.”
I expect him to argue that there’s no way I could be happy with him, but surprisingly he doesn’t.
Progress.
We spend the rest of the night talking and stealing kisses until midnight rolls around and he leaves to go home. I watch him through my window as he rounds the fence and heads up his driveway, only turning away when he’s made it safely into the house.
Like everyone else, I constantly worry that at any moment those creepy people who are after Ayden are going to slink from the shadows and steal him away. Every night when I close my eyes, I dream of the days when I won’t have to worry about losing him. That he’ll be safe. That he’ll be free of them.
Because I know those days will come.
I won’t let myself believe anything else.
Sunday flies by quicker than I want it to, and before I know it, Monday arrives. Ayden’s appointment is after school, and I’m severely distracted during classes, stressing over what’s going to happen.
“You should just spend the night,” I say as I trace the folds of his fingers.
“I wish I could, but I don’t think your dad would appreciate coming home to that.”
“My dad’s way more chill than he was when he first learned about us.”
“Yeah, maybe . . . But since I want him to stay chill, I think I should probably not be in your bed when he gets home.”
I jut out my lip, knowing he’s a sucker for the move. “That sounds like no fun at all.”
He laughs, shaking his head as he rolls on his side. “As much as I love giving you your way, I can’t this time.”
“Oh fine.” I sulk. “Can we at least do something fun tomorrow, though?” Before Monday when everything could change.
“I actually promised Everson I’d go to his football game with him.” He strokes my cheekbone and my eyelashes flutter uncontrollably. “You should come with me.”
“To a football game? Blah.” I make a face. “But if that’s what you’re doing, then count me in.” I dazzle him with a grin. “Man, it’s a good thing I love you.”
A small, rare smile graces his lips then he kisses me again.
“You taste minty,” he whispers against my mouth. “And kind of sugary.”
“That’s because I just ate mint chocolate chip ice cream before you came over.”
He takes another taste, before propping up onto his elbow. “Tell me something happy. I need happy right now.”
“Happy, huh?” I drum my finger against my lips. “Well, today at school, I won an award for that project I entered in that art contest.”
“Really?” The pain in his eyes briefly diminishes. “That’s amazing, Lyric, seriously.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty cool. The sucky part is the award came with a scholarship, which I have no use for at the moment. My mom wasn’t very happy about it, which I guess I get. I mean, she’s an artist, and it’s pretty baffling to her that she has a daughter who’s turning down an art scholarship. I had to explain to her that while I love to draw, I’d much rather be singing and spreading my awesomeness through music, even if sometimes the thought of singing onstage makes me want to puke.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’ve been doing amazing with your stage fright.”
“Yeah, I guess so.” She mulls over something, seeming reluctant. “Can I ask you something?”
“You can ask me anything.”
“What do you want to do?”
His fingers trail down my neck to my chest. “What do you mean?”
I roll on my side and hitch my leg over his hip. “I mean, when we graduate. Do you think you’ll go to college ever?”
“Maybe . . . I actually haven’t really thought about it too much.”
“Well, now that you are thinking about it, can you see yourself tied down with classes?” I ask, eager to hear his answer.
“Not really.” He contemplates his answer. “I honestly just want to play my guitar. It makes me feel calm inside and happy.”
I smile at that. “I don’t think you’ve ever said that before.”
“Said what?”
“That something makes you happy.”
“You make me happy too,” he says softly.
“It’s nice to hear you say that, Shy Boy. “ I wink at him. “My life is now complete, which makes me very, very happy.”
A ghost smile rises on his lips. “Good, I’m glad you’re happy.”
“Of course I’m happy. I get to be here with you.”
I expect him to argue that there’s no way I could be happy with him, but surprisingly he doesn’t.
Progress.
We spend the rest of the night talking and stealing kisses until midnight rolls around and he leaves to go home. I watch him through my window as he rounds the fence and heads up his driveway, only turning away when he’s made it safely into the house.
Like everyone else, I constantly worry that at any moment those creepy people who are after Ayden are going to slink from the shadows and steal him away. Every night when I close my eyes, I dream of the days when I won’t have to worry about losing him. That he’ll be safe. That he’ll be free of them.
Because I know those days will come.
I won’t let myself believe anything else.
Sunday flies by quicker than I want it to, and before I know it, Monday arrives. Ayden’s appointment is after school, and I’m severely distracted during classes, stressing over what’s going to happen.
