AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Ava, it’s okay to have boundaries. I’m sorry I crossed them. Won’t happen again.” He tucks his hands in his pockets and gives me a small sympathetic smile that feels a lot like pity.
“That’s not it.” A lump forms in the back of my throat.
Letting out a deep breath, my eyes burn with unshed tears. I’m so frustrated with myself. All morning, I’ve felt like maybe, just maybe, he could be something more. I’m not afraid to admit that for the first time in a long time, I feel something other than fear, I feel something for him, but what good does it do either of us if every time he touches me I black out? And why would he want to deal with me when there are plenty of normal girls he could be with?
“Then what is it? I don’t ever want you to be afraid of me.” He props his hip against the counter, leaning away from me.
“I’m not afraid of you. If I were, I wouldn’t be here. It’s just sometimes my brain gets triggered, it disconnects, and then it takes it a little bit to catch up. I’m trying to be better.” This sucks. I lower my eyes and shake my head to myself.
“You don’t need to try to be anything for me. Just be yourself and we’ll learn as we go. Okay?” His eyebrows lift in question.
His understanding makes my chest tight, and I nod my head instead of speaking. If I do, tears may just fall, and I don’t want to cry in front of him again.
“Hey,” he says to get my attention and I look back up at him. He smiles one of his million dollar smiles and the dimples come out. After a slight hesitation, he slowly leans down, wraps one hand around my head, and presses his lips against my temple. “By the way, that batter tastes delicious. If cooked they taste anything like this, you crushed the challenge, and apple cupcakes will definitely be my new favorite dessert.” Releasing me, he stands back up and grins at me.
Oh my.
My heart drops to my stomach and then soars. All I can do is stare at bright blue and dimples.
He taps me on the shoulder and walks out of the kitchen.
“I’m gonna take a shower while you plop those in the oven,” he throws over his shoulder from the hallway. “I’ll help you clean up when I get out, and once they’re done, we’ll set off for your appointment.”
My mind sticks on the word “shower” and immediately I wonder what he looks like naked. Squeezing my eyes shut, heat spreads up my neck and into my cheeks. I shouldn’t be thinking of him like this, but I can’t help it, and I can’t help but wonder . . . what if?
GETTING THE CAST takes longer than we expect, and by the time we get to the barbeque restaurant, we’re starving. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone eat as fast as she is. I’ll never tell her that, but I love it. In my industry, girls are fickle and vain; eating is an issue. I understand wanting to be thin, but guys like girls who eat, and right now I am overjoyed.
“You were right, the food at this place is amazing,” she says as we climb back into the truck. “I can’t wait to bring Emma next time we’re down here.”
“At least you got the sauce to take back. She’ll be able to try it.”
As we were leaving, she spotted a bookshelf full of mason jars of sauce for purchase, and asked me if I’d buy her one. She was so cute, I bought her two: traditional and spicy.
“Heck no, this is for me.” She hugs the bag to her lap and gives me a look like I’m crazy.
I can’t help but grin at her. “What? You won’t share it with her?”
“Well, maybe, but it’s gonna cost her.”
I bust out laughing and she laughs with me. Damn, I love that sound. It’s good to see her relaxed. After the little incident on the floor this morning, she's been a little closed off. I have no idea what she's thinking, but I sure wish I did. I’m trying not to take it personally, but something tells me she’s like this with all guys, the first clue being the way my manhood became one with her knee outside Smokey’s.
Turning back onto the Blue Ridge Parkway, she rolls down the window, and just like the other night, her hair whips out as the wind blows across her face. My ears ring at the memory of her singing along with our songs, and all of a sudden, I have to know: how much does she know about our band?
“So, I take it you were a Blue Horizon’s groupie; tell me more.”
She looks back over at me with bright eyes and she giggles. “Trust me when I say that I was not a groupie. I couldn’t tell you one thing about those guys except that they changed their name after the lead singer, and personally, I think in the process lost their originality.”
Holy shit.
Nothing like hearing the brutal honest truth. Then again, she isn’t really telling me something I don’t already know.
“The music used to be so good, and now, well, it’s more mainstream, I guess, than soulful. I only saw them play three times, but of all the concerts or shows I’ve ever been to, those were my favorite. Maybe it’s because the venue was small or maybe it was the sound of his voice, but something about those songs were magical and stuck with me, not the band. Different music speaks to different people, and the lyrics in their songs spoke to me. That’s all.” She shrugs her shoulders and loosens the seat belt. It must be pressing too tightly on her arm, which she keeps close to her body.
Well, I’m speechless. I’ve never heard anyone talk about how my music is magical and speaks to them, and my eyes begin to burn. People love music for all different reasons, but ultimately it’s a form of self-expression. Especially to those of us who are songwriters. Everyone loves a catchy chorus they can sing along with, or a fun beat that they can dance to, but rarely do people actually stop and think about the meaning of the words and where they might have come from. The songs I wrote during our days of Blue Horizons weren’t necessarily for the fans—yeah, I mean, I wanted them to love the songs—but they were for me. They’re about what I was feeling and my life. And I completely understand what she’s saying, because over the last couple of years, the songs have drifted more toward the general population and how they can be relatable to the fans.
Needing a moment to myself, I turn on one of the original albums and she smiles at me.
“Do you hear it? Do you feel it?” she quietly asks me.
