Shy (20 page)

Maybe the fire—my passion—can fuel my singing.

I flush at the thought.

“Do you still want to go in?” he asks.

“Of course,” I say, disconcerted by how unsure he sounds. Can he really not know how much he means to me, how much I want this to happen between us?

Damn Mom for making him feel like he doesn't deserve me. Honestly, I feel like it's me who doesn't deserve him. Despite everything we've been though, his devotion to me never wears thin.

Maybe we'll figure out, at last, that we deserve each other.

We go in and there's Ty, sitting in their small living room, playing on his cell phone. He looks up, sees us, and grins. “Hey there, Frannie. How's it going, Jake?”

“All right,” he says.

I smile at Ty, who stands up.

“Looks like you two have gotten lucky,” he says. “Jolene just called and I'm heading over there. And I expect I'll be staying all night.”

Jake perks up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Ty grins a rather wolfish grin, though still playful. Sure, he had to have figured out what he almost interrupted between us before. “See you lovebirds later.” He goes out the door.

Lovebirds
. I glance over at Jake, who's looking at me, his expression a mix of relief and anticipation, a strange sense of shadows overlaying the whole.

Suddenly, everything feels awkward. But somehow delicious, too. “So...” I clear my throat. “Where's Kelsey?”

“With his girlfriend,” Jake says, gazing at me intensely.

He turns, goes to his bedroom, then comes back with his guitar. He hands it to me without another word, but the intensity doesn't leave his gaze. And I know exactly what he wants. What he needs. After seeing me up on stage with Granville, singing for him and with his band, Jake needs to know that I can sing for him, and perhaps with even more confidence, more feeling. And it's kind of odd. I'm attracted to Granville, yes. But oh my goodness, Jake turns me completely to jelly. And when I'm feeling like jelly, it's harder for me to be brave, to let go of my shyness.

But I have to do it. It will be good for me. And Jake needs it.

Tonight, I want to give him what he needs.

We sit in the living room together, in different chairs, about five feet apart. Not within touching distance. But our gazes, as they meet, seem to sizzle. The very air feels electric, as we sit here, too far apart to touch, me cradling his guitar on my lap and him regarding me with anticipation and with a sweetness and vulnerability that makes my heart melt. It isn't often that I see vulnerability on Jake's rugged features, and when I do, it simply undoes me. Tears sting my eyes, but I blink them back.

I start to strum a little. Yes, G is definitely the key for this song on guitar. It's low for my voice, but that's okay, too. Low might be better right now. I start chording for the song, “Joining,” that's been running around in my mind. My song for Jake. Our song. I easily find the chords for the song on the guitar, then I start finger-picking the melody. I play it through, finger-picking it this way a few times, just to see what Jake thinks before I start singing.

I glance up at him. “New song,” I say, my voice husky with everything I'm feeling.

“You're amazing,” he says, his deep voice soft, gentle.

“You're one to talk,” I say, still playing the song. “You're amazing, too.” And he is. He's like me; he can play anything he knows by ear. His main instrument is the guitar, but he can also play by ear on the piano. I'm the reverse. My main instrument is the piano, but I can play by ear on the guitar. We complement each other well.

I often wonder what it would be like to not be shy, to be able to open my mouth and sing with confidence. But that isn't my lot. Shyness, though, can be overcome. I've heard of other artists who are quite shy but who become good performers. There's hope.

Right now, I don't have to sing for a big audience. Just one guy. My best friend, and the incredibly hot, handsome guy I love.

Yes,
love
.

I close my eyes, but then I think twice about that and open them. If I close my eyes, Jake might think I'm imagining myself with Granville. I want him to know that I'm nowhere else but with him while I'm singing, that I'm singing this song for him and him alone.

My heart feels fluttery and I'm very nervous, but I squarely meet Jake's gaze because that's what he needs me to do. Oh, the warmth, the vulnerability, and yes, the desire. He wants me, needs me, too. Perhaps as much as I want and need him. And the anticipation on his face warms me. He's never heard my voice before. Not really. Just humming, and what little tiny bit he could have heard tonight at the Loving Spoonful.

Well, he'll hear it tonight.

I'll start with a hum and work my way up. As I chord my song, I hum the melody, and Jake's gaze becomes even more warm and tender. I've never seen him look this peaceful, this happy, this radiant. I'll sing for him every day of our lives if it has this effect on him, helps him forget his troubles, difficulties, and challenges to focus on the wonderful things life can bring. Maybe that's something I can help him with, just like he helps me to be strong and stand up for myself, for what's right for me.

He has done that countless times over the years we've known each other.

I hadn't come up with lyrics yet, but as I gaze into Jake's eyes and he gazes back into mine, I feel words coming into my head and into my heart. I start to sing.

Our gazes chance to meet

And my spirit catches fire

I can't control the tumult in me

As it spirals ever higher

I am drawn to you.

For the moment, I can't sing another word. Tears well in Jake's eyes and one spills over. He sits absolutely, perfectly still, watching me as though I am the most incredible miracle he's ever seen, and at the sight, my heart is so full that my eyes, too, well with tears, and if I sing words, I know I'll start to sob. So I go back to humming again, and I hum the melody of what I expect will be the chorus to the song. After I hum it through a couple of times, I'm able to actually sing the chorus.

Enfold me in your love

As I wrap you up in mine

Let us grow together as now as for all time.

The chorus feels to me like it needs to be repeated with the same words again. So that's what I do. Jake's tears are flowing. He wipes his eyes but otherwise makes no move and no sound, except his gaze speaks volumes to me: love, gratitude, and immense joy. And I have to stop singing again because my chest has tightened with emotion, and before I know it, I'm sobbing. Really sobbing. Elephant tears.

Jake takes his guitar from me, lays it aside, and pulls me into his arms. “It's okay, babe,” he says softly, his deep voice very near my ear. I'm so happy, but I'm also overcome by emotion. I feel as though a wound deep inside me is somehow being salved.

Perhaps I'm crying from relief because the pain that came before has been so bad, so severe, even though I'd learned to live with it and even accept it as a given. But now, I realize it's not a given, and it doesn't have to be anymore. I see, so clearly, that the self-hate and misery I've inflicted on myself for such a long time is the source of the deep wound. Not Mom. Yeah, she has made mistakes in raising me because she doesn't understand me very well. She's said and done many painful things. But for all these years, I've taken her mistakes and her unintentional cruelty and fashioned these things into knives which I've then used to stab myself again and again and again, goring my self-confidence and my sense of self-worth.

I can do better.

Like being true to myself. True to my music.

And true to my love for Jake.

Life doesn't need to be a narrow, constraining path. I can love Jake, be in a relationship with Jake, hopefully spend forever with Jake, while still enjoying Granville as a friend, playing in his band, learning the ropes of life as a gigging musician. I can broaden myself to that extent, and the expansiveness will only encourage me to grow more, both in confidence and as a person. The shyness will be there, yes, but it no longer needs to be a prison, a wall, or an obstacle.

Only a challenge. And what would life be, if not for the challenges? Challenges are how we learn what we're made of; they're the forge in which our character is honed and developed. It's in how we meet our challenges that we learn to become the very best we can be.

Jake is murmuring to me,
Oh, baby, Wildflower, please don't cry
, things like that. It's okay, though. My crying isn't a bad thing. It's a result of deep feeling, personal revelation, and last, but never least, powerful love. But in order to tell him my crying isn't a bad thing, I'll have to stop crying. And right now, I just can't. He holds me, kisses my forehead, rubs my back, takes his time. Oh, how I love that we're able to take our time tonight. This will be our night, all night, just for us.

Finally, I stop crying, just a few soft hiccups, and Jake draws back from me a bit and looks at me with tender inquisitiveness.

“I'm fine,” I tell him. “I'm better than fine. This has truly been the best time of my life, singing for you and seeing how very much it means to you. I'm so sorry that you felt bad because I hadn't sung for you–”

He covers my mouth with his kiss, interrupting my flow of words. Oh, delicious kiss, and as much as I want to make love with Jake, this kiss is so sumptuous, it could last all night and I'd be happy. Then he pulls back. “Please, babe, don't apologize. It's okay. I really think I understand.”

Indeed, understanding is written all across his face. I truly think he does understand, that perhaps he's learning to transcend the horrible messages he's received throughout his life, especially from his dad—then my mom—about not being good enough. Perhaps, deep inside, I was even afraid of the intensity of feeling I'm experiencing now. Perhaps I knew how strongly it would affect me when I finally sung for Jake. And given that we have been broken up, as boyfriend and girlfriend, for a year, I didn't want that moment to happen unless we were back together. All the way.

Yes, it makes sense. To both my heart and my head.

He pulls me into his lap and kisses me as though he and I are the only two people in the world and our kiss is the only thing in the universe that exists. We're completely lost in it. I have no idea how long we kiss, except that after a time, Jake stands up and offers me his hand. His gaze smokes—pure fire. I accept his hand and he gently helps me up. As though we're of one volition, we walk together to his bedroom, and once we get there, we fall on his bed in a tangle, kissing and mutually pushing our clothes away and off, getting rid of them as quickly as possible.

We've been naked together before, but now it feels especially sweet, as we know that by making love, we'll be renewing our commitment. We're a couple again, despite everything we've been though, despite family disapproval. Even though Jake and I are both independent spirits, we've had to learn how to think of ourselves apart from the opinions of those who misunderstand us and who keep us feeling bad about ourselves, even if they don't overtly intend to do so. It's up to us to choose how we feel about ourselves, what we do with our lives, and how we act on our feelings for each other.

Jake's mouth on my breasts feels incredible as he caresses them with his tongue and pulls at my nipples, sucking on them and making them rigid, as rigid as he feels against my thigh. God, is he ready. And I'm ready, too. But he's in no hurry, and neither am I. At this point, I'm too carried away by desire to feel nervous. Yes, he's big, but that's what I want—I want every inch of him in me, making him mine, all the way, and in so doing, I'll make him mine, as well. We've always belonged to each other. And now we will even more deeply than before.

Deep, that's where I want him as I spread my legs as wide as I can get them, and he lies on top of me, pressing himself against my hot, fevered entrance. I reach down and caress his length. As amazed as I am that I'll soon be taking all of that into myself, I know I can take every single bit.

“Yes,” I moan. “Please.”

He remains at my entrance and sweat breaks out on his forehead with the restraint he's showing. “I'll go slow,” he says, his deep voice husky and ragged. “I don't want to hurt you.”

He begins to press into me, and I gasp at the incredible sensation. He slides in effortlessly, though slowly, and then he stops again. There's no pain, only a pleasure that makes my mind whirl, and I want him to go deeper. “More,” I say. “More.”

“You sure you're okay? You're so tiny in there, babe.”

“God, yes. I'm good. Please,” I beg.

He pushes in a little more, still slowly, and this time, there's pain. I buck just a little bit out of reflex, then press up against him before he can ask me, again, if I'm okay. I'm more than okay. The pain isn't bad, and what little pain I have is soon replaced by desire.

“Oh, Jake,” I say. “More.” I grind myself up against him, and his restraint breaks. He pushes all the way into me. There's more pain, yes, but it can't come close to the ecstasy. I let loose a little scream and dig my fingernails into his back. God. This is incredible. Rapturous.

“Wildflower,” Jake bites out roughly. “I want to move.”

Instead of letting him move, I clutch his butt and pull him to me, loving the feel of him inside. I want him to move, too, but I also want to play with him and drive him crazy. And part of me wants him to stay deep inside me forever, just like this, where there's no doubt, no insecurity about whether or not we're together. But after tonight, those days will be in the past. No more doubt about our love. No more doubt about whether we're together. Right now, we're as together as it gets, and that's how I hope things will stay.

He lets out a long groan and grinds down against me. I gasp. The pleasure nearly takes the top of my head off. I push back up against him and our lips meet in a searing kiss. I can't stand it any longer. I need to feel him thrusting inside me, and I need to move, too. I let go of his butt and wiggle up against him again. He moans and sets himself loose.

At first, he continues to use a degree of restraint, but as we move together in a rhythm that's ours and ours alone, we ramp up the intensity until he's pounding me, hard and fast. It's like my mind has simply come apart. Rational thought is no longer possible, just desire, lust, and a sense of climbing, climbing, and as I approach my release, I let out a scream, then bite his shoulder to keep from screaming too loud. Jake achieves his own release deep inside me. Moaning, we clutch each other close as he continues to thrust into me while our rhythm gradually slows again. Yes, I'm plenty sore in there, but it's a delicious soreness. I hope we make love all night until we're both too sore to walk tomorrow morning.