September Rain Bk 2, Savor The Days Series (6 page)

The tingling ease that filled me
disappeared. Suddenly hollowed out, I hid my face in the crook of
his neck, kicking and cringing internally for listening to Avery.
After what we’d just done, how was I going to tell him I lied? I
shoved the unpleasant question into the proverbial box and locked
it away, deciding I’d deal with it another time. And moved closer,
clinging to the rapidly fading sweetness of the moment.

All it took was a little time, a lot
of Jake, and I felt like a different person.

We made our way back to his
motel room and slipped into a pallet on the floor. The lights were
out, but Jake turned on a lamp and set it beside us on the rug.
Avery was asleep in the far corner of the room, tucked into a tight
ball on the extra wide chair. Jake pulled a tablet from his nearby
duffle bag and began writing
.

Then, he wrote a song for
me.
He called it my birthday present. I
tried to refuse, but he looked so disappointed, saying I needed my
own song, that I deserved it because I was his friend first. The
guilt I had tucked away reared up, but I didn’t know how or where
to start and kept my mouth shut as Jake called me loyal; because I
never let them put me on a guest list, even though sometimes it was
hard to pay for my ticket, even though going to see them play
sometimes meant I had to hitchhike. But the band wasn’t with a
label and what kind of fan would I be if I didn’t show my
support?

In its’ original form my
song, oddly titled
Eve
, was heavy and lurid. Sweet passion wrapped in a dirty
melody. And the lyrics were beautiful. I think that’s what made me
love Analog Controller so much—their music, in and of itself, was
fantastic, but the melody and content of the lyrics took it all to
another level. It was like the most delicious frosting on the
world’s greatest cake. Decadent and sexy. Addictive. Yeah, that was
Jake.

I can admit now that I was a little
obsessive about it, but at the time I didn’t see it that way. Hero
worship can make you see reason in the crazy.

5

—
Angel

When I woke up, I was the only person
in the room. Avery was gone. I found a note she left on my pillow,
saying she’d walked the eight blocks back to the club to get her
moms car. After peeking through the bathroom door that had been
left slightly ajar, I determined Jake was in the shower. Andrew and
Max were out somewhere, too.

I was wondering if I had time for my
own shower when the motel phone rang. I hesitated, but then
answered, in case it was important. It was Avery. She said some
jerk-wad had slashed two tires on her moms’ car. She was already
with the tow-truck driver on her way to get them replaced and said
I needed to take a bus back because I’d get home faster.

The foster family I was staying with
had been out of town that weekend. Their natural daughter and I
were told to stay put. The daughter took off with her boyfriend and
I took the lack of supervision as a sign that I was meant to see
Analog Controller. But the only way I was getting away with
sneaking off was if I got back before my guardians did.

Since Avery was stuck at the tire shop
for the next few hours, I planned to take a Greyhound back to
Eager, the slightly larger neighboring township that had a transit
system. From there, I’d walk the last couple of miles into
Carlisle. But when Jake got out of the shower and I explained my
plan, he was not having it.

His coppery brown hair was hanging
damp over his forehead when I followed him out to the corridor for
a smoke. His hair shimmered in the new daylight, casting hues like
fallen leaves. I examined each color; the sparkle of reds and
browns with just the slightest tinge of golden blond. It was just
then that I realized I had never seen him in the daytime. He was so
much more beautiful in the natural light.

“You want me to drop you off at a bus
station? That’s stupid. We’re going to the same place.” He pulled
my ear lobe with his index finger and thumb, taking my attention
away from his hair. “Besides aren’t you too young to travel alone,
Minor?”

He grinned darkly at my shocked
expression, throwing up his hand. I gasped when I saw my student
ID—the one that was supposed to be tucked safely inside my
wallet—between his sneaky fingers. “You’re a junior. So that makes
you, what—sixteen, seventeen?”

I snatched it away from him with a
righteous offense I didn’t deserve. “You were snooping? And I just
turned seventeen.”

Jake’s dark smirk grew. “Yes. I’m a
snoop. And you are a liar.”

I sighed, hating the turn our
conversation had taken. “Why? And I will be seventeen next month.
Honest.”

Jake shook his head. “Because I’m
nosey and I don’t like being lied to.”

“Well, I don’t like people going
through my stuff.” I felt my chest constrict and closed my eyes. I
never should have said it was my birthday, I knew that, but he had
no right going through my things. “If you want to know something
about me, maybe you should ask.”

“I did.” He stepped closer, unfolding
his hands to set on my shoulders. As he looked into my eyes, his
beautiful bluish-hazel confections with flecks of gold in the
center reflected the color he was wearing. Black. “Promise not to
lie to me anymore and I’ll let it go. And maybe even ask you
out.”

I scoffed. “You want to ask me
out?”

“Maybe. Maybe this kind of thing
doesn’t happen to me every day.”

“And you’re asking me out?”
I needed clarification. He had me in knots. He was mad. And he
wanted . . .
what?

“
Maybe I want to ask you to
the movies or out to dinner. Maybe just over to my house. But only
if you promise not to lie to me anymore.”

I shouldn’t have hesitated. What he
was asking was not so terrible. But I lied a lot back then. I had
to. It was how I got what I needed, the way I covered my ass when I
forgot stuff or found myself suddenly in a room I didn’t remember
walking into.

Just then, Max and Andrew—who’d come
back at some point during our talk—came out of the motel room and
walked in between us. Jake stepped back and thumped Max on the head
as he shoved passed. “You’re driving, asshole.”

Andrew winked at me as he called
shotgun.

Once the path between us was clear
again, Jake stepped back in, picking up our conversation. “Look,
you’re taking the ride whether or not you make the promise. But I
need to know,” Jake pressed a finger against my cheek, turning my
face, making me look at him. “What else are you trying to
hide?”

I froze, staring into the Atlantic
depth of his eyes, unable to find words.

“Well?”

The blaring burst of a horn broke his
spell.

“Come on.”

Taking my hand, Jake led me to the
side of the van. We had to cram ourselves in between stacked amps
and drums. But we both fit in the limited space that was a little
more snug than the night before since the guys duffle bags were now
crammed in there, too. We were about halfway back near the sliding
side door with our feet down in the well of the step.

Jake set his arm around me and pulled
me closer. Pressing my hair back from my face, he set his palm
against my cheek. “Would it help if I told you that I don’t care
about whatever it is that you think is so bad? You don’t need to
hide from me.”

I kept staring. His face was so close
and lovely, his presence so strong beside me. I had his undivided
attention and was smashed up against him and still didn’t feel
close enough.

“Angel. If it’s what I think it is, it
won’t change my mind.”

I wasn’t sure what he was saying and
still couldn’t form a response. There was so much he didn’t know
about me and I was afraid to tell him. I settled for placing my
hands in between our laps and staring into his hypnotic eyes,
hoping to find courage.

Still cupping my cheek, Jake leaned
closer. I thought he was going to kiss me and felt heat bloom in my
chest.

“Last night wasn’t your first time,
was it?”

The petals of my desire wilted.
“What?”

“You know, a guy can tell. And you
didn’t have to pretend. I’m not one of those assholes that’s gonna
judge you. Just be who you are.”

I was mortified. And totally confused.
My neck suddenly felt very hot. “Wait. What are you
saying?”

Jake dipped his head, speaking so low
I could barely hear. “Lack of pain . . . and or hymen?”

My cheeks blazed in a chagrin fueled
inferno. I smothered my face in my palms. “Oh god. I knew it. Now
you think I’m a slut.”

“Did you hear anything I just said?
Because if you did, you would know that’s fucking
ridiculous.”

“You think I do this all the time.” I
wanted to disappear.

“No. I don’t. Even if you did, that’s
none of my business. What the hell? Angel, I like you, why would I
think that?”

I had to take a deep breath and let
his words sink in. Look him in the face and search his eyes. He
didn’t seem to be angry and I sensed no sarcasm. But his opening
the discussion on something so personal with such a casual manner,
it was painful.

But it wasn’t his fault. All Jake knew
was I had already lied about my age. I knew he needed truth and he
didn’t trust me to give it to him. And that bothered me, but more
than my nonsensical irritation, I wanted to give Jake what he
wanted. Even though I feared, once I told him he wouldn’t want me
anymore.

“Well, you’re right about one thing,
Jake.” I took a deep breath and exhaled, imagining the small breeze
from my mouth was pushing him away, like dry leaves in the wind.
“You are nosey. You want the truth? Fine. Here it is: I’ve had a
royally screwed up life. I’m busted in every way you can imagine
and probably a few that you can’t. I’m sorry for trying to shield
you from that. Truth is my hymen was broken when I was five
years-old.”

His eyes widened. My words had him in
recoil. I could see the theories and scenarios playing across his
concerned face.

“I was in a car accident. It killed my
mother and I almost died, too. In case you’re still curious, I
might never have kids because of it.” I shut my eyes tight to keep
from seeing his reaction. “I don’t have a family and I can’t make
one. I have been in foster homes, living with people that either
steadily ignore me or beat the shit out of me, for the past eleven
years. I don’t talk to anyone about my life. Not even to the
doctors who ask about the bruises.” I was nearly panting, my body
rigid with the suffocating feeling that accompanied any topic
involving my mother.

The blood drained from his face. “Is
all that true?”

I almost rolled my eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

“Whatever.”

“Not ‘whatever.’ Angel, look at me.”
He took my chin and made me obey. “We all have parts of ourselves
that we don’t like to share. I understand that. I just forgot it
for a minute. I really am sorry.”

I shrugged, deflated. “Not your
fault.”

He pulled me back under his arm. “I
upset you. I didn’t mean to.”

I relaxed into his hold, stuffing my
face into the crook of his neck. “Please don’t ask me about
it.”

“I won’t.”

Breathing in his scent, I decided to
make the most of my last few hours with him. I was going to stay
like that—nose flush against him, feeling the freedom, listening to
the hum of the road under the vans’ tires and the punk music
burbling through the speakers—for as long as I could.

“Would you be interested in being the
girlfriend of an asshole like me?”

I went rigid again and pulled away to
look at him. He was so beautiful, with his wide-eyed expression and
soft smile. “Why, Jake? Why would you want that?”

“Is it so tough to believe I like
talking to you? And I started writing your song months ago. Did I
tell you that?” Jakes brow was scrunched, but his eyes held
amusement. “Besides, you’re so damn hot. That alone is reason
enough, right?”

I waited, watching him. I enjoyed
being coveted, but even I knew that was nothing to build a
relationship on and that was something I didn’t know I wanted,
because I wouldn’t let myself think it, until Jake touched me and
kissed me in that greedy way he had; as if he were starving for
something only I possessed. And looking at him in that moment,
recalling the feeling of him the night before, I knew I needed
something true and lasting from him. I needed him. I needed him to
say that he needed me. So I waited, hoping.

His affirmation was barely audible
over the music from the radio. “Come on, Angel. It’s not like we
just met. We’ve been talking after every show for the better part
of two years. Do you think I do that with everyone?”

He looked deep into my eyes. “Well, I
don’t. I like you. More than I should. I like how sensitive and
attuned you are to me. I like that you understand how important my
music is. You don’t assume anything or talk too much shit. And
you’re really sweet. Thoughtful.” His eyes were soft as he grinned
down at me. “But above all of that, I love the way you look at me,
and the way it feels when I do something that makes you smile. How
it makes me feel . . .” His palm rested against my face, gently
sliding down to my mouth, “when I touch you.”