Wasted Heart Read online

  I place my guitar next to me and reach for my pen to write down my ideas. Tapping it against the paper, I close my eyes and try to make sense of the nonsense floating around my brain. My thoughts, however, go back over last night. I spent it in the apartment they had arranged for me to use. As expected, it was nice, but not close to the warm, fuzzy feeling you get from being in your own home. It reminded me too much of being on tour.

  Music tours aren’t all they are cracked up to be because of the frequent change of scenery, especially on a tour bus. That’s the hardest part of being on the road for most people. The view on the outside is constantly replaced by the landscape of the next town. Living on the road was fun for about the first two weeks, then I missed the very things that I was so happy to leave behind when I left home. The same bed that I had slept in since I was a little girl, my dad making sure I knew when curfew was for the hundredth time, and the ever constant reminders of my mom. I missed it all and wanted it back with a vengeance.

  A sad smile spreads across my face. I remember that, for the first time in my life, I felt like a solitary traveler. The irony was that I was surrounded by people. My manager, the band, backup singers, and my driver just on my tour bus. Not to mention, at that same juncture in my life, I was experiencing the loss of my first love. Tag’s betrayal gutted me. Because of love, he was able to rip out my heart, crush it with only a thought, gather it up, and burn it to ashes.

  Love. A four letter word. So beautiful in its spelling. So simple in its arrangement. So innocent in its meaning. So fragile in its time. So devastating in its aftermath.

  I don’t want to think about that anymore, the pain that sliced me to my core. I survived. There were good times, stolen moments when my world opened up to the possibilities of becoming a woman. Seconds when I would have given him anything he asked for because I thought that what I held in my arms was the most precious thing in my life.

  The first time we kissed. That night still makes me ache with longing. I didn’t know kisses could be so…sexual. Sure, I had kissed my share of frogs, and a couple of princes along the way, but nothing close to this. God, that kiss was earth shattering. Eye-opening.

  For some ungodly reason, I had decided not to go out that night, and instead, I invited him back to my one room apartment above the bakery. It was the only thing I could afford while still being able to eat, especially considering I was constantly hungry thanks to the heavenly smells of freshly baked breads, cakes, and pies drifting from downstairs. Asking him over was a dangerous move for a young girl not wanting to tempt fate, but teetering on the edge of desire, hormones won out. Lust is a living, breathing creature, tempting little girls and boys with glimpses of pleasure.

  For several nights, I had lain in bed, feeling guilty about the thoughts running through my mind. I dreamed of my hands tickling across his chest, up over his well-defined shoulders, and back down to drift over the solid muscles shaped like the letter “V” on his lower abdomen. When he called that morning to see what my plans were for the evening, I stammered like a school girl, finally blurting out that I wanted to stay in and finish some lyrics, knowing he would offer to come help, and of course, he did.

  The knock on the door causes me to raise my head from my cross-legged position on the bed. Taking a deep breath, I look down at my tight, white tee and tiny, grey gym shorts that I pray don’t look too obvious. I did leave my curly hair down because I know that’s how Tag likes it. Jumping up, I look around at my sparse living quarters and sigh. It’s too late to worry about that now.

  Opening the door, I can’t help the smile that covers my face. “Hey,” I say to him, my grin growing bigger by the second.

  “Hey,” he says back, holding a pizza box with a six-pack of soda on top in one hand and his guitar case in the other. “I come prepared.”

  I reach for the food, walking over to sit it on the small table in the corner. He follows me the few steps in and shuts the door behind him. He’s dressed in his regular jeans, t-shirt, and, tonight, a baseball hat. Setting his guitar on my bed, I notice him inspecting my current habitation. I grasp my hands in front of me, rocking back on my heels. To say that I’m nervous is the understatement of the century. I don’t know exactly what I expect or if I even expect anything at all.

  We’ve been seeing each other for weeks, and he hasn’t even tried to kiss me. We have discussed my inexperience, only because it was brought up while writing lyrics one night. He was fascinated that I was a virgin. Obsessed almost. It’s sweet, but I’m not sure if he realizes that I’ve done other things. That wasn’t discussed nor did I feel like I had to divulge that information. I kept myself from getting in trouble at home. I didn’t, however, act as if I was living in a nunnery. Tag’s held my hand and rubbed my arms when we’ve sat side by side, but his lips haven’t ventured in my territory. Maybe he’s not that interested in me. He seems like it, but I’m getting mixed signals here.

  “Nice place,” he says, finally looking back at me.

  I give a small laugh, “Yeah, I’m into the whole minimalist mentality.”

  “Really?” his asks, one of his eyebrows arching in question.

  “No. ‘Minimalist’ is my word for the day. Trying to broaden my vocabulary. Large words, combined with my country accent, always throw people off,” I reply, winking at him and biting my bottom lip.

  He laughs, the sound stealing the very air I breathe. My body tightens, and things start waking up. Uh-oh.

  “You’re so crazy…,” he says, smiling at me, “but I love that about you. Let’s eat. I’m starving.” He walks over to the pizza and grabs a slice.

  I feel my eyes go big as saucers as I stand not two feet from him, frozen by his words. Did he just say the “L” word? No, I had to have misunderstood him. We’ve only known each other for three weeks. I need to move my feet before he turns around and finds me stupefied. Wait. I need two seconds to filter what he just said. It could be that he just used it in context of, “I love you like a sister” or “I love cupcakes.” It doesn’t have to mean that he’s saying that he’s “in love” with me. God, Syn. Are you crazy?

  My thoughts spur me into action. Reaching for my own slice of pizza and grabbing a can of soda, we both sit around my tiny table.

  “So, what did you do today?” he asks while picking his pepperonis off and eating them separately, one by one.

  I tell him about my boring day, well boring because I can’t tell him about the vivid daydreams I’ve had about him. With me. Us. Together. He tells me about watching his dad film some music interview and hoping, one day, that it’s him on the other side of the camera. He then talks about helping his grandfather on his horse farm this afternoon, something he enjoys.

  After we both inhale several slices of pizza, I resume my cross-legged position in the middle of my bed, grabbing up my guitar. He stands to open his case and sits back down in the chair with his. If you take away the breathtaking, sexual tension, it’s a comfortable friendship between us. We both tune our guitars in silence.

  “Want to hear what I’ve been working on?” he asks, giving me a shy smile. He strums a couple strings then begins to play, singing in that sexy voice of his. “…pure and sweet as the sunshine in the summer time. That’s my girl. Something worth fighting for.” The warmth of his voice calls to me, whispers to my soul.

  I know, in this instant, he will be famous one day. Tag will command audiences, capturing them with that velvet voice and timid smile of his. He’s the boy next door that every girl will dream about and every guy will want to be. A spike of energy courses through my body, again reminding me that I’ve never felt this way about anyone. It has to mean something. I’ve never felt that I was “saving” my virginity for marriage. What does “saving” myself mean anyway? It’s not like I have a golden patootie, but I’ve always told myself that I would wait for something extraordinarily special. Is this it? How do you know?

  “Earth to, Syn. Come in, Syn,” he taunts, trying to get my attention.r />
  “What?” I ask, shaking my head to clear my thoughts.

  “You spaced out on me. What do you think of the song? I really like the chord change in the middle, but I’m not sure whether to go back or not. What do you think?” he asks, looking back down to play it again.

  What do I think? I think he should put those pretty little lips right against mine. Quit talking. Stop singing. Make music instead of playing it. Should I make a move? What if he’s not feeling me? What if I have something black in between my teeth from the pizza? I close my mouth and run my tongue over my teeth, not feeling anything. God, my breath. Should I go use my toothbrush? I place my hand in front of my mouth and blow, discreetly trying to smell if it stinks.

  “Syn, look at me,” he says, standing and placing his guitar down then removing his hat. Taking only one step brings him right next to my bed. He sits down, the bed dipping underneath his weight and my body automatically leans toward his. Raising his hand, he reaches for a strand of my hair, rubbing it between his fingers. Slowly, he places it behind my ear. “You scare me.”

  His words completely freeze me in place. “What?” I stammer, looking into his eyes for an answer. I scare him? Wait, one darn second. What?

  He smiles and laughs, looking down and away from me. Glancing back up, his cheeks are slightly pink and those bright blue-green eyes search mine. Forget this! As fast as my agile body will move, I rush into him; my greedy lips literally smack against his. My eyes never close, and I catch the look of surprise on his face. His lips, so soft, feel like a little piece Heaven, and once again, strange tingles run hot through me. My body burns with need, and this alien feeling of longing is painfully magnified. I brush his mouth with gentle, tiny kisses while he stays motionless. My hands tightly grasp my bedcovers as I try to make sense of him. Maybe I misread everything between us? My lips go rigid with the thought, and I start to tilt away.

  “Oh, hell no, girl,” he states, smiling and recapturing my mouth with his. This time, his tongue moistens the seams of my lips, making it easier for him to glide between mine, and finally, he kisses me. No holding back. He devours me, my soul, my hopes, and dreams. Anything he wants. My body moves uncontrollably against his hard frame. He groans, the sound buzzing against my lips, and I can’t help the smile that forms. A soft giggle bursts from my mouth.

  He pulls back, grinning, and whispers against me, “You find me funny?”

  I shake my head, but my body betrays me with another chuckle. Dear God, why am I laughing? In one second, all these feelings of evident lust turn to complete nervousness.

  “I’ll give you something to laugh about,” he mutters seconds before he pushes me down, flat on my bed and, without malice, pulls my t-shirt up to relentlessly tickle the sides of my abdomen. I playfully fight and scream for him to stop as I wiggle to get away from this torture. His body looms over me, his knees capturing mine, and finally, he stops prodding me long enough to pin my hands with his above my head. We both breathe heavily in the silence that has fallen over the room.

  I look up, into the handsome face that stares back down at me. His skin is so smooth, but he has tiny laugh lines around his eyes. So many thoughts run through my mind. Minutes ago, I thought I may be ready for what comes next between two adults in these situations. Questioning what I’m feeling should be a clear indicator that, maybe, I need to slow down whatever this is between us to get to know him better. He slants his head closer to mine, obviously ready for round two. Now, I see the burning desire that I was worried didn’t exist before.

  At the last second, I turn, and his mouth misses mine to land squarely on my cheek. I close my eyes, feeling his silky lips skim the side of my face, each one leaving a spark of lust inside of me.

  “Syn?” he whispers, the puff of air washing a wave of warmth across my skin. “This is what I was worried about. Scaring you off. Not knowing how to handle you. I want this so damn much, but I don’t want to rush you. Rush us. Hell, I know I sound like an idiot, but all I see when I close my eyes is those yellowish eyes of yours. I even smell you when we’re not together. I want you so bad, Syn.”

  Opening my eyes, I turn my head to look back up. I melt at the sight of him. My body softens underneath the weight of his solid frame, and the sensation of him laying on top of me dampens everything down low. I lean up to gently kiss his lips, letting my head fall back on the bed as he follows me. Our kisses stay “PG-13” as we explore one another, slowly this time. Minutes pass before he pulls back once again. Leaning over me, he waits for me to guide us.

  Taking a deep breath, I let it all out in a loud swoosh sound, and he laughs.

  “Well, that says a lot,” he states, those eyes of his staring at me too intensely.

  “No, I just want to know you better. I’m sorry if I’m coming off like a tease. I don’t want that. Everything within me is changing because of you, and I’ve never felt like this before. Now who is scaring who?” I say, smiling up at him, letting him see the passion within my gaze.

  He touches his lips lightly against mine, and then, with his own long sigh, he moves off of me to stand beside the bed. I sit up to stare back at him. Rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, he leans his head back to look at the ceiling. Glancing back down, he shakes his head and says, “God, girl. If you only knew.”

  At that moment, I notice the entire length of his body seemingly vibrates. With need? Lust? I can’t help but zero in on the bulge in his jeans, and I instantly look away, nervous again.

  “Look at me, Syn,” his deep voice commands as he places his hands on his hips. “I’ve never believed in love at first sight or any of that bullshit. All I can tell you is that the first moment I saw you, I said to myself, ‘There she is. The one. Underneath all those clothes and hat, hiding from the world, is my soul mate. Just waiting’.”

  Oh, God. Dear, Lord. Did he just say that? My heart gallops within my chest, thundering loudly through my head. Wanted. That’s what he makes me feel. It’s wonderful. Amazing. Terrifying. Ok, yeah, I’m scared to death now.

  Running his hand through his hair, he ruffles the soft brown strands. “Look, I don’t want this anymore than you probably do. I’m only twenty years old, and you’re younger. I’ve tried, these past couple of weeks, to slow whatever this is down. These feelings that drive me to drink. But the thought of you with anyone else but me? I can’t stand it. It crushes me inside,” he says, looking at me while shaking his head.

  My mind is in a state of shock. I’m numb. My pulse rockets, and everything within me riots. Part of me wants to pull him back to me and finish everything that kiss of his promised, and the other…well, the other says this is way too fast. It’s way too much, too soon, and that’s the side that’s winning. He looks at me unsure, almost afraid.

  “Say something. Please,” he pleads, dropping his hands by his sides.

  Going up on my knees, I crawl to the edge of the bed and raise my hands to reach for his. Pulling him to me, I stare up into his eyes. I swallow and take a deep breath to say, “I…,” I pause, trying to find the right words. “I’m not ready to share my body yet. I don’t want to lead you on and promise a time frame that I can’t commit to right now. But, you make me want to. You make me smile and laugh, as you already know. You make me feel pretty and special. When I’m not with you, I dream about you. About us. No one has ever made me feel the way you do. If you want to see where this goes, I’m game,” I finish, squeezing the talented, strong hands that I hold preciously between mine.

  Slowly, he leans down, once again capturing my lips. This is a kiss of promise. It pledges things that even I don’t understand, mysteries I’ve yet unearthed, but my body responds, kicking into high gear again. With one last brush of his mouth, he moves back. Still holding my hands, he pulls me off the bed to stand flush against him. Unlocking our joined fingers, he slides his arms around my waist, hugging me tight. I feel his body quiver next to mine.

  His lips nibble at my neck for mere seconds before he pulls completel
y back and lets me go. Turning, he grabs his hat and slides it on. He reaches for his guitar and places it back in his case, and even in my dumbfounded state of mind, I can’t help notice how he roundly fills out the butt of his jeans. Hot. He turns before I can divert my eyes from his mesmerizing behind.

  “Are you checking out my butt?” he asks, the smile back in his eyes, all traces of the last half hour under wraps.

  “No!” I answer quickly.

  “You were totally checking out my ass,” he says laughingly, walking towards the door. “I bet you are checking it out again,” he calls, not looking at me then turning before reaching for the door handle.

  I feel the heat of embarrassment climb my chest, straight up to my face. I was so checking out his butt. I couldn’t help it though. It’s lovely, and it’s better than trying to dissect everything he’s said to me and what I’m feeling.

  “Well, it is a nice buttocks,” I add. I’m so busted. Smiling back at him, I laugh again.

  “Night, pretty girl,” he says quietly, opening the door and leaving. The door closes behind him.

  “Night,” I say, staring at the closed door.

  I’m sitting in the recording studio, tears rolling down my cheeks. I tightly lock away the sobs that threaten within my chest. Hours have passed. I am supposed to be writing songs; instead, I’m caught up in the memory of the moments that made me love him. That night, after he left, I lay in bed and feelings began to blossom. Grow. It was that night that he planted the seeds of love. I want to remember that feeling of wonder so I can write about awe-inspiring, sweet love instead of the break-me-into-ten-million-parts love.

  “Are you okay, love?” Julie asks, leaning towards me and placing her hand on my arm.

  I swat at my eyes, drying them, and nod at her. She reaches over to grab a tissue and hands one back.