What's Left of Me
Page 40

Parker’s MP3 player is on, and I’m thankful when a loud song blasts through the speakers. It’s some rock song and I can’t make out anything the singer is saying. The words blend together and the loud guitar drowns out his voice.
“Who is this?”
“Who is this? It’s one of the best bands ever. Death Line.”
“One of the best? They sound like some high school garage band.”
“You’re joking.” He moves so that he can get a decent look at my face. His eyes are wide with shock.
“No! I’m not. You can’t make out anything he’s saying—or, rather, screaming.” I laugh.
“You can’t be serious. That’s what they do. They rock. They make actual music. They’re legends.”
I take this as a good opportunity to bring up the concert tickets Jean got for this Saturday night. I haven’t asked Parker yet. I’ve been waiting for the right time.
“As much as I find all this talk about Death Line fascinating, I have a question for you.”
“Uh oh!” He sets his beer down. “Okay, I’m ready. What do you have for me?”
“Well, my friend Jean got these tickets to see a local rock band on Saturday night. I’m not sure who they are, or if they’re any good. And maybe you already have plans because it’s short notice and all, but I thought … maybe, you know … if you wanted to, that maybe …”
Since when did I start sounding like a loser fumbling her words?
“Aundrea, are you trying to ask me on a date?” he asks teasingly.
“No. Not a date. Just maybe, you know … a night out.”
I stop talking. Who am I kidding? I am trembling with nerves. I don’t understand why he makes me so nervous, and all I’m doing is making this sound a lot worse than it needs to. How did I ever pick this man up in a bar? Or, better question: why did he let me?
“Yes. I am asking you on a date.”
“Then ask me.”
“I did.”
“No. You just mumbled and stumbled your way through it.”
Taking in a deep breath, I start again, “Parker, I would very much like it if you would go to a rock show with me this Saturday with my friend Jean, and possibly have dinner prior. I know it’s short notice, but if you’re free, I’d like you to come with me.”
“See. Was it that hard?”
“Yes.”
He gives me a grin, shaking his head slightly and holding a laugh back. “Thank you for the invite. I’m not sure what I have going on Saturday night, but I’ll let you know.” I watch as he takes a swig of his beer, as if the words he just said were no big deal. My mouth gapes open and I just stare at him in shock. Is he kidding me?
“Are you kidding me?”
“What?” he asks with a hint of amusement. I can see the smile forming, but he’s trying desperately to hide it.
“You just made me ask you that so you could tell me you’ll have to let me know? Really?”
“Yes.” His mouth falls back into a straight line.
I shake my head in disbelief. I have a feeling he is kidding, but I’m not totally sure. I make my way to a standing position, but before I can stand all the way, Parker grabs my arm and pulls me back down so that I land on his lap. I fall right into his crossed legs, fitting perfectly in the small space.
Laughing, I try to pull out of his hold. “What?”
His head lowers to my neck, lingering for a few seconds, and I go still. Most women in this situation would be begging for him to kiss them, or to feel his lips brush their neck, but I’m not your typical woman. As much as I wish I were thinking about him touching his lips to my skin, I’m too concerned that he’ll notice my hair has a different texture than before. Or worse, that it’s longer on one side than the other from sliding down with the sudden pull into his lap.
Closing my eyes, I take in his irresistible scent. He smells divine, and for just one minute I get lost in his scent, letting all other thoughts leave my head.
He does exactly what I thought he would do. He brings his lips to the top of my shoulder and lightly brushes my skin. “So soft,” he whispers against my collarbone.
“Hmmm?”
“Your skin. It’s so soft. I love how soft you feel. How good you smell.” I hear him breathe in my scent, trailing his nose gently along my neck and up to the back of my ear. Goosebumps cover my body, and suddenly any thought or care I may have had about my hair is out the window for good. My arms go limp, and I relax into him.
“Pears. It’s always the damn pears.” His tongue comes out, barely licking me, and I swear I just turned into a puddle.
I sigh. I can’t respond. Not even if I tried.
His hand traces the scar on the right side of my neck with a feather light touch. “What happened here?” he asks as his lips brush against it.
“An unfortunate event when I was a teenager.”
His lips reach out and touch the bottom of my ear lobe. “I’m sorry,” he breathes into my ear. He barely touches me with his mouth, and his voice sends tingles down my body. I can feel his warm breath down my neck. I know if I just turn my head slightly to the left, my lips will meet his and then it will be all over.
“You know I would go anywhere you asked me to, right? I was just messing with you earlier.”
“Huh?” I breathe out.
“The show. Even if I had plans, I’d cancel them to be with you.”