Stay Until We Break (24 page)

Sonia

If anyone had asked me a week ago what I thought this Maxwell’s show would mean to me, I would have said it’s going to be the moment all our dreams start coming true. And if the only dream I had was seeing Soft get signed to Matador, I guess that would be the case. Of course that’s great—you know how hard it is to get a shot at Matador? I should be ordering champagne. Singing and celebrating and calling home to say to my parents,
See? I didn’t have to go to Juilliard to have the music career I always dreamed of. I helped my best friends get a record deal by my own sheer will and a hefty dose of the right sort of luck.
I should feel proud and accomplished and all that shit. But that’s not how I feel at all, because however good and happy and exciting all of that is, I can’t seem to enjoy any of it because I don’t have Cole.

Speaking of Cole McCormack, that tall, good-looking, big-hearted asshole in the Jawbox T-shirt, here he is now, hopping out of Steady Beth after he parks her next to the club for load out. (After celebrating all night with Emmy at the bar, Travis is finally drunk enough to let Cole drive the van. There’s one band milestone achieved.) Cole sees me standing on the sidewalk talking to John Salinger from Matador, and he side eyes me from ten feet away. Then he and Joey load all the gear into the van by themselves because Emmy is schmoozing with me and Travis is too wasted. And I have to stand here, talking to John, pretending not to notice how Cole’s biceps flex when he lifts Emmy’s amplifier. Asshole.

I know this anger isn’t rational, but it beats crying. I’ve already done a ton of that in the ladies’ room, Emmy’s arms around me as I heaved sobs for a lot longer than I care to admit. My face is still so puffy I had to tell people I had an allergic reaction.

Cole leans against the van, watching me, and he doesn’t even have the decency to be unattractive. I can see the whole of his naked fuckability right from here—the glow of his skin, that stupid tattoo sneaking out from his sleeve, taunting me. I make the Sunshine face at him because he really needs to stop distracting me. John Salinger just offered me an internship at Matador this semester and I can’t even pay attention to what he’s saying.

“Call me next week, Sunny,” John says, handing me his business card. “Take the train in and I’ll introduce you around the office.”

Whatever. I mean, great! But it’s no use. All I can think about is that the night is over and Cole still hasn’t changed his mind and begged me to take him back. He’s had all night to reconsider, to tell me forget it, he wants me to quit everything and be with him. I wouldn’t say yes, but hell—he can at least ask, can’t he? If he’d just ask, I’d figure out some kind of compromise.

I feel his eyes all over me and try to ignore it, but they’re like fiery stars pulling me clear down the sidewalk to him. I may as well let him know the time for second chances is running out. Asshole. I almost turn around when I see his lips curve into the slightest upturn, and I’m not sure if that’s a smirk or not, but I’m about to wipe it right the hell off his face with my fist. Now I can’t tell if that’s a smile or maybe he has gas or something. His poker face is enviable, I have to admit.

“What’s your deal, McCormack?” I demand to know.

“Sunshine, did you call my mother and tell her to come to the show tonight?” he asks, cool as a cherry Italian ice.

Oh, shit. Oh, oh shit. I gulp and feel my face turn red. I was not expecting to have to answer for that right now.

“I can explain,” I start to say. “I was calling for you, actually, and she answered and so I just thought . . .”

“You just thought what?” He starts to crack a smile and then backs me up against Steady Beth. Now I can’t breathe properly because I can smell his skin, cool and clean right here on his neck, probably coming straight from that magic little mole which is right in front of my face.

“I . . .” I don’t know what to say. He’s too close for me to think straight, so I just stop talking, which is for the best because that’s when Cole kisses me. His lips brush my top lip first, softly, and then my bottom lip, less soft, with just a hint of tongue, and I can’t really think of a coherent reply to that, so I open my mouth and kiss him back, because that’s what my heart decides is a good idea right now. Cole breaks away to look at me, his thumb stroking my cheek as he talks.

“Now I have something I need to say to you,” he says, his eyes big and intense, locked on mine. “I’m in love with you, Sonia. I don’t care how far away you think you can get in Steady Beth—if you keep meddling in my life and making it so much better all the time, you will never be rid of me, do you understand? I don’t want to let you go.”

I look up at him, let the warmth of his smile in, and take a deep breath.

“I’m in love with you, too,” I say. “I don’t want you to let me go.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m absolutely, positively sure,” I say, and the relief I’m feeling is enough to make me practically giggle. I never giggle, but I feel drunk and high and giddy like I’ve got a bottle rocket firing inside of me. I start to ramble on. “I know it’s going to be complicated, logistically speaking, but we can make this work. I can drive up to Lodi on Sundays and when I don’t have early classes, so Tuesday and Thursday nights, too. You can stay with me on weekends when we’re not out of town . . .”

“You’re working out a schedule already?” he says and laughs.

“Well?” I say. “Do you have a better idea?”

“Yeah, actually, I do. What if I just stay in New Brunswick?” I’m not sure I heard that right, but then he goes on. “That way the beefcake won’t have to find a new roommate and then we won’t have to give up the band cave . . .”

“Wait—did you say
we
?”

“Yes,
we
,” he says. “Unless—did you want to play bass for Soft?”

“God, no,” I say. “Are you kidding? I’d have to live off antacids.”

“Okay, then I’ll just fill in for you for the foreseeable future. How’s that sound?”

I’m really not sure if I should strangle him or not, except to strangle him I’d have to let go of him and I don’t want to do that.

“But what about Claire’s tuition?” I ask.

“Patrick had a big contract come through and he’s going to help out. And now he and Mom are both convinced I’m about to become a bona fide rock star, thanks to you, and they won’t let me quit the band and there’s no reasoning with them. So I guess I’m stuck.”

I could just tell him how happy I am to hear that, I guess. That would be a decent way to handle how fucking elated I feel right now. But instead, I go for mauling him on the sidewalk. I grab his head and kiss him with tongue, with my hands tangled in his hair, and I’m a total mess right now.

“Christ, you two,” Joey says as he and Claire walk towards the van. “We’re finally within an hour of you having a room all to yourselves. Can’t you just keep it in your pants?”

“Wow,” Claire says. “Are they always like that?”

“Yes,” Joey says. “Unless they’re cursing each other out, but I think that’s just part of their mating ritual or foreplay or whatever.”

“No wonder he loves her,” Claire says.

Cole gives them both a dirty look before pulling me into the back of Steady Beth and pinning me to the bench. Fuck, it’ll be two hours before we make it to a bed, and after a week without him touching me, I don’t think I can wait.

“Come on,” I say. “We have at least ten minutes . . . You have Trap’s keys—just lock the doors. It’s not like Emmy even knows where the spare is, probably lost in Kentucky somewhere . . .”

Cole grins and reaches up to hit the door locks and gets his hands right up under my cowgirl dress, sliding them up my thighs. He tells me to ride him like Dale Evans, baby.

“You want it right here, right now, Sunshine?” he says. “You’re getting it.”

I climb into his lap, cursing myself—again—for not being on the pill, and I vow to go to student health services first thing on Monday. Maybe it’s my imagination, but I think he’s twice as hard now.

“Where’s the yellow bag, Sunny?” he says, his lips hot against my neck as he kisses up under my ear, dragging his teeth along my skin. “Did you leave your purse in the club?”

“I think Emmy has it,” I groan.

“Okay, we’ll make do,” he says. Then he slides his hand up my leg until his thumb is right at the edge of my underwear. I grind against him, so, so good, but oh, fuck me, wouldn’t you know, BOOM! The van rocks from the volume of that explosion.

“Shit!” I scream, terrified for the split second it takes me to realize what’s happened, but fucking drunk Travis has set off a Roman candle in the middle of Eleventh Street, right next to the Crown Ram van. Elliot is climbing up the hood of Steady Beth, pounding on the roof, howling how there will be hell to pay. Then it sounds like the Fourth of July as Anton retaliates with whatever is left in their arsenal: Black Cats, bottle rockets, you name it. Next thing I know, Travis is banging on the door, please, please, please unlock it and let them in because . . . Then we hear it. Sirens. And not the siren of just one cop car, but several. Maybe a fire truck, too.

“Oh, fuck no,” Cole groans.

“Oh shit.” I hop off of Cole and pop the locks.

Emmy, Travis, Joey, and Claire all pile in the side door. Travis is still too drunk to drive, so Cole hops into the driver’s seat and puts the key in the ignition while Travis takes shotgun.

“What the fuck, Travis,” Cole says, annoyed as hell. “You set off the arsenal without me? And in the middle of fucking Hoboken, dude? Are you trying to get us all sent to jail?”

“Hey, they desecrated Steady Beth!” he says. “Our holy vessel of rock! They must pay!”

Claire squeals with laughter as she hops on Joey’s lap next to me and Emmylou. Emmy and I exchange looks because we’re both wondering when Cole is going to realize that his little sister is hot for the beefcake (and really, who can blame her?) but he’s too preoccupied at the moment. Elliot jumps off the roof of our van and runs over to his while Miles is still making out with Maria against the side of Maxwell’s, oblivious to what’s going on, even as Anton continues to throw lit Black Cats at our windshield. Cole revs the engine as Trap cranks AC/DC and yells, “Secure the gear and hold on to your tits, because we’re outta here, bitches!”

In my fantasy, we peel out and tear off down the street, but I’m sure getting pulled over with this crew in the van is the last thing Cole wants. So instead, he pulls carefully away from the curb, driving perfectly sensibly through the back streets of Hoboken, while we all sing all of “Back in Black” all the way home to Hub City.

Sonia

All hail New Brunswick, Hub City! Our hamlet of rock, three minutes from Exit 9, home of the Scarlet Knights and the best little hidden music hub from Manhattan to Montevallo.

I’m so glad to be home.

After we drop Claire off at Demarest dorm, we unload the gear into the band cave. Before Travis, Emmy, Cole, and I hop back into Steady Beth for the two-minute ride over the Raritan into Highland Park, Emmy calls a Soft huddle—the last of the tour. We all gather round and she puts an arm around my shoulders, her eyes all glassy.

“I just have to say, the last three weeks have been the best of my whole life,” she says. “I really love you guys. You’re the best family anyone could ever ask for.”

“If you make me cry I’m going to be pissed, Emmylou,” Joey says, putting his arms around Cole, and they pretend to wipe tears away. Goofballs.

“That’s right, no crying,” Travis says, clearing his throat. “We’re manly men here.”

“And we have the Roman candles to prove it,” Cole says.

“But I have to say,” Emmylou says. “As much as you assholes are the light of my world, the rock in my casbah, the MVP award definitely goes to Sunshine.”

“Me?” I say.

“Fuck yes,” Joey says. “Sunny, you were unstoppable.”

“Right?” Travis says. “Between handling all the merchandise and the clubs, you made all those radio calls, and then stepping in for Cole when he got called home? You get your own set of keys to Steady Beth.”

“Don’t forget Matador,” I can’t help adding.

“Yeah,” Cole says, his eyes shining. “She was a real champ.”

“Especially in the Rafters bathroom,” Emmy says.

“And at strip pool.” Travis nods and Emmy elbows him in the gut. “What?”

“She lost!”

“But she showed excellent sportsmanship,” he says.

“I still can’t believe I missed Sunny’s tits,” Joey says, shaking his head in disappointment.

“Guys,” Cole says. “Enough. I’ve gotten very protective of those tits, and I’ll share pretty much anything with you but I do have my limits.”

“Fine, I guess Sunny’s tits officially belong to Cole now,” Emmy says. “Make sure to note it in the band log.”

“That ass, too,” Cole says.

“That’s cool,” Joey says wistfully. “I guess every wagon needs a fifth wheel.”

“Hey, I think beefcake gets an award of his own,” Cole says. “I’m pretty sure you win the road casualty count, after all your whining about never getting any action.”

“A girl in every state,” Emmy says. “That’s the way I hear it.”

“No, not every state,” he says, and I think I detect a little bit of pink creeping into his face. “Come on, now. Don’t go around telling . . . anyone . . . that.”

“Don’t tell anyone?” Cole says. “Shit, I was sure you’d want your tour heroics broadcast on
Overnight Sensations
.”

“Come on, man,” he says. Then he shoots me a pleading look.

“What happens on the road stays on the road, Joseph,” I promise him. “I don’t want it getting out that I’m a shitty pool player, either. I’ll never live it down.”

“Okay, deal. We lock all unseemly tour incidents in the Soft vault,” Travis says. “All in favor, say ‘aye.’”

And the ayes have it.

***

It’s so late by the time we get to my house, I’m literally bleary-eyed when we arrive. Emmy and Travis go straight up to Emmy’s room, no doubt to enjoy the comfort of a real bed behind a real door and some semblance of privacy. Our housemates, Jeff and Adam, are fast asleep, so that leaves me and Cole all alone for the first time since Atlanta.

Cole is in my bedroom, checking out my posters and photos. I’ve fantasized about Cole here in my room like this so many times that it almost doesn’t register that this isn’t my imagination. He’s really right here. Cole McCormack, my most painful and persistent crush, the boy with the eyes full of secrets and the hips of a porn star, is now officially my boyfriend.

“That’s a nice smile, Sunshine,” he says, giving me an even nicer one back. “What’s got you happy enough to smile like that?”

I answer him with a kiss, standing on my toes. He sweeps me off my feet, into his arms, and carries me the few steps to the bed. For the first time since we left for the road, there’s no rush. There’s no sleeping bags, dusty floors, rooms full of people to contend with. He kicks off his Vans and I pull my Doc Martens off. We lie back down on the bed, facing each other, our foreheads touching, our lips just barely touching. Even the simple act of breathing next to him makes my heart soar.

And I’d love to say we go on to wild monkey boning all through the dawn, but the truth is, after all those late, late, late nights curled up on floors dreaming of a nice, soft bed, within minutes Cole and I fall fast asleep.

***

I wake out of a dream, into a dream.

Warmth, that’s what I feel. The warmth of him hovering over me, his lips moving along the edge of my hairline, the softness of them sinking into me until it reaches all the way down to my soul. My eyes flutter open, taking in the palest morning light as his lips move to the shell of my ear.

“Sunny . . . wake up,” he says and then kisses behind my ear. “I want you.”

My body buzzes awake and now I’m up and turned on, yeah, but there’s something else I’m feeling. Something new and something deep. Like I can finally let him have my whole heart. I just want to hand it right to him, along with all the rest of me.

“Is it okay?” he asks as he moves his lips down my neck to the curve of my shoulder. “I don’t want to stop.”

“Don’t ever stop,” I whisper, my eyes fluttering open.

“Say that again and I won’t,” he whispers against my skin. “I’ll keep you right here in this bed with me the rest of your long blessed life.”

His lips come down onto mine and I open my mouth, feel his tongue taking over everything else I feel. I am dissolving into the mattress, into him, into this new state of
we
that we’ve declared. I feel high, like a shimmer. I kiss him back so eager, on the edge of desperate, but he settles me with his finger traced lightly over my lips, down my chin, down my neck until he reaches the first snap on my dress and pops it open.

“Lie still,” he says. “Let me take you slow.”

Oh, God.

He slides his tongue along my bottom lip as he fingers the next snap down and pulls it open. Lie still? Who can lie still at a time like this? He lays his hand over my heart, and the warmth spreads all the way through me. Then he pulls my dress wide open and his eyes narrow possessively at the sight of my naked breasts.

“Mine,” he says with a satisfied smile.

I nod and smile back in agreement.

He holds my breast firmly in his hand as he kisses along the side, to the peak, arriving there tongue-first, licking until it’s a tight point he sucks into his mouth. He drags his tongue over to my other breast, lets me feel the edge of his teeth, licking circles over my nipple until I’m shaking, and then he sucks it into his mouth, tongues it until I am lifting off the bed, cradling his head to me and begging him to fuck me.

“Not yet,” he says. “I want to take my time.”

His mouth is a trail of heat down to my belly, that part of me that’s always felt too round, too soft, too there. But when he kisses me there, just below my navel, hot with his tongue on me, his teeth grazing my skin until I writhe, I feel like I’m perfect, exactly the way I am. Like I’m all he’s ever wanted. I hear all the rest of those snaps popping down the skirt of my dress as he pulls it open, slipping his hand into my underwear and pulling it all the way down and off. Now he’s tonguing my hip bone, his hand rising up the inside of my thigh until his fingers are teasing, feeling the slickness between my legs before sliding slowly, softly in. I beg him for more, harder, more, but as promised, he takes his time and his movement is slow and full of purpose.

He moves his mouth along the inside of my thigh, his breath hot and steady. He starts to fuck me with his fingers, gentle and slow, until I have to move my hips into his hand, working for more. Then he pins my hips to the bed and puts his mouth right on me, licking my clit as he strokes harder, yes, yes, fuck yes, harder. He sucks on that most sensitive part of me, sucks it between his teeth, holds it against his tongue, plunging two, now three fingers up inside of me, again and again until I come with a full-body clench, crying into a pillow so I don’t wake everyone in the house up. Then he kisses me, full of my taste, pushes his tongue into my mouth. I grope at his pants, pull them open, and shove them down his hips. I reach for his cock, all rigid and ready and Goddamn it, where are the condoms? Fuck, fuck, fuck, where is my yellow bag?

“Right here, shhh, I’ve got it,” he says, pulling a condom out of his pocket and laying it on the bed next to my head. I pull at his T-shirt, kick his pants out of my way. He pulls me free from my dress, flips me to my belly, pulling my hips up to where he wants them, and bends over me, his teeth on my shoulder. “Touch your clit, Sunny,” he says, rubbing his naked cock along the most wet and desperate part of me, velvet sparks against my skin. I do, and oh fuck, it’s a good thing there’s a condom here, but he’s not wearing it yet and oh, shit, he feels so fucking good like this. So Goddamn good. He holds my hips still so I can’t back onto him.

“Let me see you come,” he says, then pushes just the tip of him into me, pulling it right back out again when I try to take him all the way inside. “Then I’ll fuck you nice and hard until you come again.”

I rub my clit in circles and he teases me with the tip of his cock until I am swearing at him, begging him to fuck me, and it isn’t long at all before I do start to come, though not nearly as hard as when he thrusts all the way into me and pounds me to the core—without the condom, and seriously, I don’t even care. Part of me realizes how much I’m going to care if he loses it, but I’m just saying the last thing I want is for him to stop to put a rubber on right now. He fucks me hard, right over that mountaintop, until I collapse on the bed, shaking. Then he pulls out and kisses me all the way down my back, down to my ass, before he flips me over to my back.

I can’t see straight I’m so spent, but he’s not done. He kneels between my open legs and fists his cock over me, the most beautiful, obscenely hot thing I’ve ever hoped to see.

“Can you take any more?” he asks, putting his hand gently between my legs. His fingers are warm as he pets me, soothing me there. “Or have you had enough?”

I’m sort of mesmerized watching him pump his cock like that, so I don’t answer immediately. But the way he looks right now, like he needs to fuck me, needs to let go and explode in me, snaps me out of it.

“If I can’t walk, will you carry me to victory brunch?”

“On my shoulders,” he says with a sweet laugh. “To dinner and a movie, too.”

I sit up, put my hand over his as he strokes himself. Then I take the condom out of the wrapper and roll it down him. I lie back down, spreading my legs, reveling in the high and hungry look on his face.

“Come to me,” I say, reaching for his hand.

He’s still holding my hand when he covers my mouth with a deep, deep kiss and pushes himself slowly, all the way in, taking all the space inside of me for his own. Now
this
is the kind of slow, gentle lovemaking I always imagined our first time together would be, those millions of times I dreamed about it. Only this is so much better because it’s not the first time, and we both know for sure it’s not the last, either.

“It’s never going to be enough, Cole,” I whisper. “You’re just going to have to fuck me like this forever.”

“I can do that,” he says.

And you know, I’m starting to believe it.