My fingers curled in his soft T-shirt. I was holding on. I was bracing. Thunder overhead. Lightning in the sky. “Beck…”
“Yeah?”
“I want to be that wind, be that roar.”
He groaned, and his hands dug in my hair, pulling me into his body. His lips crushed mine. A swipe of warm wet tongue parted my lips. My entire being ignited, flared to life like a new lightbulb filling a previously dim room. Shocking, bright, vibrant.
Beck tasted of glorious freedom. Of wild, of reckless. That roar.
My arms wrapped around his middle to hold on, to be swept away. A firm hand slid to my lower back and gripped me. Holy—
Yes.
Yes.
Yes.
He pulled back, his forehead against mine, our lips a breath apart. Our lips so close, our breathing choppy, heartbeats galloping. “Jesus, Violet, I’m—”
“Don’t say you’re sorry. Do not.”
“Oh, I’m not sorry.” His mouth took mine once more. He poured more of his heady, rich wine for me to drink. And I drank.
I was lost.
I was found.
I fell, I soared.
His tongue drove inside my mouth, seeking, teasing, demanding, and mine demanded right back. His taste, perfection. Groans rose in his chest and rumbled against mine, making me press deeper against him, and his grip on me tightened even more.
This kiss wasn’t only lips and tongues sliding and exploring. Our bodies communicated, resonated. Low moans escaped his throat and I swallowed them, I wanted more. I gave him mine.
Never ever had I experienced this kind of kiss before, this connection. This, this was…
A cell phone beep went off—a shriek, shattering the magic. Groaning, he released me, my body seizing in the sudden cold as the glittering fairy dust dissipated around us. His intense gaze tore from mine and went to the cell phone he’d pulled out of his pocket. That sinful tongue licked at his gleaming lower lip, and a sting lanced through me. He cleared his throat. “Everyone’s waiting for me out front.”
“Right. Of course.” I swept my hair behind my ears.
He typed into his phone, glancing up at me. “Are you here alone? You want to hang out with us? Do you need a ride home? Why don’t you—”
“I’m here with friends. They must be wondering where I am.”
Back to lying.
Back to pretending.
Back to faking.
“Oh. Okay.” He tucked his phone back in his pocket, a hand rubbed along that gorgeous jaw. “It was good to see you, Violet.”
“You too, Beck.”
“I mean it. We’ve never had a big conversation before. You really helped me, helped me see things clearly. Sometimes I get a little carried away, stay in my head too much.”
He was a sensitive creature. I’d always thought so, and I liked that in him.
“I’m glad I could help. You helped me too.”
Inspired me, ignited me.
I lunged at him, and a grunt escaped him as he held me close, his face sinking in my neck. His heat against mine. His firm strength around me.
I soaked in it, in Beck, in one of the greatest moments of my life. I took in his scent one last time, memorizing it. Woodsy clean. Memorized the press of his warm, strong body.
I pulled away from him. “Good luck with the rest of the tour. Have a blast.” My feet took another step back.
“I will. And, Violet—” He grabbed my hand, pulling me back in. “I didn’t mean to offend you before, about what you’re studying at school. I’m sorry, I—”
“No, no, you didn’t offend me. It’s the truth.”
His fingers rubbed mine. “I hope you can find a way to do what you love, whatever it is. It’s too important. And you know what?” His lips twitched into a slight grin. Mischievous, playful. I melted inside all over again.
“What?” I squeezed his fingers.
He squeezed back. “I’m going to hold you to it.”
“Oh yeah?”
“I am. I’ll be back for Mom and Finger’s wedding in a couple of months, and you are going to tell me all about it. I look forward to hearing every detail.” He leaned in and brushed my cheek with a quick kiss, a sigh escaping him. His lips touched mine once again. A velvety, killing-me-softly unhurried sensual caress. An ache I didn’t know I had set off inside me, swelling, blurring everything else.
His forehead slid to mine. “I had to do that.” A hoarse whisper.
“Glad you did.”
We both chuckled. Both bit at our lower lips.
“Promise me something?”
“You’re demanding, Lanier.”
“Whatever you do, be loud about it.” He kissed my forehead and whispered, “Goodbye.”
“Goodbye, Beck.”
His heavy booted steps faded in the unlit hallway, and I fell back against the wall and closed my eyes. Alone in the dark, Beck’s heat still rippling through me, I took in a deep yoga breath to steady myself. I was a mass of jangling, clanging bells, a cacophony of emotions, a symphony of excitement and desires. I held the breath in and let it out in a long, steady stream. It was rough, loud, and I laughed.
Be loud, Violet.
I wanted this. The kind of life Beck led. Not the fame and celebrity and all that, but the being true to your creative spirit, the expressing yourself in your work. Not this double life that I extracted out of myself every day, like squeezing out bits of toothpaste when the tube was pretty much empty and your fingers hurt, but you still did it.
My fingers went to my lips. I’d shared with someone who understood exactly what I was talking about, dreaming about. Who called me on my bullshit and challenged me to go for the best. Who encouraged me to make my dreams happen for myself. Honesty had been the only way with Beck. Surprisingly satisfying.
He was right. We only had one life, and this was mine.
Before I knew it, it would fly away from me, like a balloon whose string slips from your hand and the wind pitches it into the sky, out of reach. Far away and farther away. There’d be no way to catch it, bring it back. No way.
Pretty soon, I’d be thirty, then forty, then…
I didn’t want to be in the grip of that guilt, that horror, not anymore. Ever since, I’d been keeping a lid on myself and keeping the peace for everybody, making up for…impossible things.
And it was so fucking hard.
“That terrible, fantastic noise.” Beck’s lyrics describing the waterfall came back to me, fisting in my gut, taking root there. I wanted to be true to myself. I mattered.
No more wasting time, no more playing games.
Straightening my back, I pushed away from the wall. I was going to submit that application to the workshop. I would. I had to. I’d already filled it out, and then I’d shoved it in the back of a drawer, hadn’t I?
No more.
My phone beeped. A text message from Derek.
Where the hell are you????? I’m leaving!
His words, his tone were a rotten stench. Did I even like him at all? No, I didn’t, I really didn’t, hadn’t for a very long time.
“Go, Derek, go.” I shut down my phone.
I was stuck in an ages-old muck, trying to prove the same old same old over and over again. Years had gone by, and I was still in that same muck, grinning, posing. I’d been doing this to myself all along. Even my dashes of defiance and rebellion, my little victories weren’t fun anymore. Scattered and meaningless.