So sweltering and mind-numbing.
I feel it in my veins.
Liquid fire.
Passion.
Driving me insane.
And the bar set so high.
Ayden has soared over.
Past the heavens.
And captured me eternally.
“Go to sleep, Lyric,” he whispers, his breathing ragged.
I nod, still terrified to open my eyes. Terrified I’ll lose this moment.
A moment I know I’ll be able to fill pages and pages with the most powerful lyrics I’ve ever written. All about him and that kiss.
Chapter 11
Ayden
Therapy did not go well today, but maybe that’s because I was a basket case while I was there.
“Ayden, are you sure there’s nothing else you want to talk about?” my therapist had asked, chomping on a mint—the dude always has one in his mouth.
I had raked my fingers through my hair for the millionth time in the last hour. “Yeah, I’m good.”
“Are you sure?” he pressed, while jotting notes down. “Are your nightmares troubling you again?”
I gripped at the wooden armrest of the chair I was sitting in. “No, they’ve been … fine.” A lie, but I didn’t want to talk about them, because then we would have had to talk about other stuff—Lyric stuff.
He had set the pen he was writing with down. “What about flashbacks? Are you having any of those?”
I shook my head. “No, not for a while.”
He overlapped his fingers on top of his organized desk, considering something. “You know I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”
I wiped my sweaty palms on the front of my jeans. “I’m just stressed out over school,” I had lied, to avoid what was really bothering me. Lyric. That kiss. The way our lips touched. The way my heart races in panic every time I even think about it. I could only imagine what would happen if I spoke about it aloud.
He sighed, something he did when he was letting my silence slide, yet wasn’t thrilled about it.
An hour later, I’m running around my room like a chicken with its head cut off, searching for my guitar. I can’t remember where I left it last night, can’t remember much of anything over the last week. My thoughts are scattered, my dreams more vivid, my control gone.
All this from a kiss I can’t get out of my head.
But it wasn’t just the kiss. It was …
Lips. Aching. A touch.
The contact. The connection.
The rush.
It brought my soul back
to life.
And I’m fucking terrified.
I haven’t kissed anyone since before I was put into the system. Haven’t kissed anyone because I wanted to. I’ve been kissed a few times—I remember that much about my past—but I can’t remember exactly how they happened. Won’t remember.
I had cracked open Pandora’s Box with the dancing at the club, but it flew right open with the kiss. A kiss I clearly wasn’t ready for, even if it was the best kiss I’ve ever fucking had. Life would have been a lot simpler if all my kisses were like that.
But they weren’t.
And life isn’t simple.
Now, I’m trapped in a scarred body that cringes whenever it has to endure human contact, except for when it comes to Lyric. I didn’t cringe during that kiss. Not once. Which was good. The whole point of it was to try and erase the pain William caused from her eyes. If I could just get over the helpless, out of control fear I feel whenever I’m around her now, things will be golden.
But my soul is out.
Surfaced above the years of pain.
Fuck. I need to stop thinking.
Focus on finding my guitar. Yes, find the guitar. Much more simple.
I look out my window toward Lyric’s house. Maybe that’s where I left it. But am I that desperate to go over there and find out?
Lyric suddenly appears through her window, jumping around and singing at the top of her lungs. I still have yet to hear her sing, but I can imagine the warm sound of her voice and those incredibly soft lips of hers creating striking songs.
Amazing songs.
That I want to drink out of her.
Taste.
Fuck, I’m losing my Goddamn mind.
My phone rings from my back pocket, and I let out a breath in relief at the distraction. I fish it out, figuring it’s Sage calling to see if I’m on my way to band practice.
“I’m on my way now,” I answer without checking my screen as I reach for my wallet on the nightstand.
“That’s super awesome.” It’s Lyric’s voice that fills the line and my heart flutters. Actually fucking flutters, like I’m some lovesick puppy. “But I just called to ask why on earth you’ve been staring at my bedroom window. You’ve been doing it for like five minutes, and it’s starting to get a little bit creepy.”
I frown when I spot her waving at me through her window.
“What’s wrong?” she asks. “You’ve been acting a little strange lately. More and more like the shy boy I first met, the one who would barely utter a few stray sentences to me. I’m not losing you, am I? Because we made a deal to be friends, and my deals are unbreakable. If you want out of them, there’s this big huge test I have to give you, and I know how much you hate tests.”
Lyric has never mentioned a single word about the kiss, which I’m both relieved and upset about. She’s been her light, full of sunshine self, acting as if she’s completely unaffected.
“I’m fine. Our friendship is fine. Everything is fantastic. I promise.” I turn my back to the window, silently begging for my guitar to miraculously appear in my room, but it doesn’t. “I just can’t find my guitar anywhere.”