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Okay, I’m officially losing my shit here. I take a sip of beer to calm myself down before saying, “You’re not going to believe this, but ‘Delightful Damage’ is the only song in our entire catalog written completely by me, without any contribution from Dax or Colin.”
Her jaw drops. She sits up and whispers, “Oh my God, Fish. Matthew.” She reaches out and grabs my forearm. “You’re a genius.” Her blue eyes widen and her cheeks flash with color before she pulls her hand away, leaving my skin tingling where she touched me. She asks, “Is that song autobiographical? Did someone break your heart?” She grimaces when I say nothing. “Sorry. Is that too personal?”
My mind is reeling. My heart crashing. “No, no. I’m only speechless because nobody has ever asked me about this song before. I didn’t sing it on the record, as you know. And we don’t perform it in concerts. So, it’s not a typical topic of conversation. I only paused so long because I want to be sure to answer you with complete honesty.”
Alessandra’s chest rises sharply and remains expanded, like she’s literally waiting with bated breath for whatever I’m going to say next.
I take another long swig of my beer while gathering my thoughts. Finally, I say, “Yes, the song is autobiographical. But not in the way it comes across when Dax sings it. It’s not about that one girl who broke my heart. It’s not actually a breakup song, at all, in a traditional sense.” I take another sip. And then, another deep breath. “To be honest, the song is about my experience with women in general. The fact that they’ve always rejected me, for one reason or another. The ones I’ve wanted, anyway. It’s about the fact that, once my band hit it big, women sometimes flirt with me, but it’s not real. I guess, the song is a confessional about how I’ve come to realize . . . it’s far worse feeling used and lonely than simply being alone.”
“Wow,” she whispers. She touches my arm again. “I’m so sorry you’ve felt like that, Matthew.”
My eyes locked with hers, I nod. “I’ve actually never had a serious girlfriend, though I’d like to have one. That’s the ‘heartbreak’ I was writing about. That feeling where you start wondering ‘what’s wrong with me?’ And ‘why doesn’t anybody want me?’”
She nods slowly, keeping her fingertips pressed against my arm. “I’ve never had a boyfriend, serious or otherwise. So, I guess it’s no wonder that song connects with me so deeply.” She slides her hand away, and my arm physically tingles with yearning at the loss. She sighs. “To be honest, I’ve shed a lot of tears listening to that song. Also, while playing it.” She looks down. “I’ve also wondered those same things you said. Many times.”
Suddenly, all I want to do is kiss this beautiful girl. In fact, my lips feel like they’re physically aching to press against hers. But I don’t have the courage to do it. Not yet, anyway. If she’s never had a boyfriend, then I’m assuming she’d want to take things extra slow.
“Alessandra!” It’s Georgina, tangled up with Reed in the swimming pool. When Alessandra turns her head, Georgina beckons enthusiastically to her. “Reed’s here, honey! Come meet him!”
“Aw, fuck,” Alessandra murmurs. She rubs her forehead. “I hope I don’t barf on him.”
“I’d honestly pay good money to see that.”
She doesn’t laugh. She’s too nervous.
“Aw, it’s okay, Little Lioness. You’ve got this. Hey, you want me to come with you? His bark is worse than his bite.”
She waves at the air. “No, no. Hang out with your friends and relax. I’ve monopolized you long enough.” She stands, displaying the small, tight curves of her lithe body in her purple bikini. “I’ve loved talking to you, Matthew. Thank you for hanging out with me for so long.”
“I’ve loved talking to you. Come back and chat with me again after you meet Reed. Or, if that doesn’t work out, then let’s make sure we connect at the party.”
“Okay. Yeah. I’m sure I’ll be done talking to Reed in two seconds. My plan is to say hi to him as quickly as possible and then run away with my arms flailing.”
I chuckle at the visual. “Don’t do that, dude. Don’t you know Reed’s the guy who can make all your dreams come true?”
Alessandra rolls her eyes like that’s a ridiculous notion. “I’ve got two more years of school before I need to think about that. I just want to escape the conversation with him without barfing.”
“Good luck.”
She holds up crossed fingers and makes a cute face. “Well, I guess I’ll see ya later, Matthew Fishberger.”
“You sure will, Alessandra . . . What’s your last name?”
“Tennison.”
“See ya later, Alessandra Tennison.”
“Bye.”
With a cute little smile, she turns and walks away. As she does, I watch her backside, enjoying her tight little ass. And all I can think, on a running loop, as I watch her is: Holy shit.
