1986: Why Can't This Be Love (Love in the 80s #7) (7 page)

Dylan sighed. “Because he paid for the damage I caused in advance to keep me out of trouble, and I’m working the debt off at the bowling alley this spring break and this summer.”

My eyes widened. “This summer!”

I couldn’t hide the excitement in my voice, and by the way his smile grew, I knew he heard the enthusiasm dripping from my words.

Suddenly, I was glad he’d trashed that guy’s car. Even though I knew it wasn’t something he should have done, it had brought him here. It’s funny how little things add up, how a small moment here and a small moment there can place you right where you need to be, dead center in someone else’s path. Last night was making me look at life in a deeper way, in a different light. I guess that’s how you know someone means something to you. They make you see the world in colors beyond the standard black and white.

“So,” Dylan hedged. “What would you think if I said I wouldn’t mind a lot more repeats of last night? With your parents’ permission this time.”

Inside, fireworks flared from my heart, lighting me on fire, so much so I wondered if he could see the colors in my eyes.

Tamping down my eagerness so I wouldn't yell, I answered with a semi-calm, “I’d like that a lot.”

He held out his arms, and I all but dove into his embrace.

“You’ve got a lot of work cut out for you with my dad,” I warned.

His fingers played with my hair, and my toes curled inside my shoes. “I don’t mind work when the reward is so great.”

He really knew how to make me feel special. It was an extraordinary boost to my confidence.

“What about your mom?” Dylan asked. “Not as hard to break as your dad?”

“Nah.” I waved my hand. “Just tell her you want world peace, and you’ll win her over.”

He laughed. “So you get it from her, then?”

I smiled thoughtfully. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

Tugging my chin up, he gazed into my eyes. “I think I’m going to like getting to know you, Tori Allen.”

It was the first time he’d said my name, and I liked the way it sounded on his tongue.

“I like that you want to get to know me,” I whispered.

“I like that you’re giving me the chance.”

My brows arched. “That’s a lot of likes.”

His hand slid over my cheek. “Hell, yeah, it is.”

He kissed me, long and deep. It was an emotional kiss, so full of feeling I felt it all the way to my heart.

This was a good start to something wonderful.

“So,” he asked, drawing back, “what song are you hearing in your head right now?”

I grinned because the song I heard was going to sound crazy to him. “‘Let’s Hear it for the Boy,’” I answered. “Deniece Williams.”

Throwing back his head, he laughed. My laughter joined his, rising into the day.

That was the moment I fell in love for the first time. Or the beginning of it anyway. That was the moment I learned what it felt like to feel all gooey deep inside, all turned around and yet perfectly in place. It had come out of nowhere after a completely crazy night and day. Shouldn’t that be how it happens? Life is fleeting. Love is blinding. Dylan Black wasn't perfect. He didn't have money or a great record, but he had a chivalrous heart and far reaching aspirations. Oh, and he had a motorcycle and leather bomber jacket. I mean, what girl could pass that up?

“Did you ever fix that photo booth?” I asked him suddenly.

He studied me, a knowing look in his eyes. “I don’t know. I think it may have a penchant for malfunctioning.”

Yep, I was falling so deep. To the max deep. And it felt good to drown.

Maybe those daydreams and the soundtracks I made for them weren’t so crazy after all. Dreams, if wished for hard enough, stood a good chance of coming true.

Or maybe it was the wish I’d made on Halley’s comet when it passed by Earth in February.

Did it matter?

D
ad threw
the newspaper down on the table, a scowl on his face. “Did you read that?” he asked Mom.

She fought hard not to smile, her gaze dropping to the table. “I read it. It’s not the article that blew me away. That was pretty straight forward. It was this.” Turning the newspaper over, she tapped a black and white photo of Dylan and me kissing.

My face heated. The entire town had a front row seat to my first romance, my love life plastered all over the front page. Dylan was right. I didn’t do things half way.

“You know what this means, don’t you?” Dad asked, still scowling. “We have to invite the scoundrel over for dinner now. I’d look like a monster if I didn’t try. Damn Henry Graves!”

I hid a smile. “He wants to save the world,” I supplied helpfully.

Mom coughed, masking a laugh. “Find out what he likes to eat,” Mom told me. “After that picture, I’m thinking the only thing you know about his tastes are what you got from his mouth.”

“No!” Dad hollered, dropping his face to his hands, his breakfast untouched in front of him. “Just no.”

“I’m pretty sure he has a strong liking for TAB pop,” I offered.

Dad pushed away from the table. This time, Mom didn’t even attempt to hold back her laughter. She let it go, loud and full of wheezing mirth.

It felt good. All of it.

Deep down in my teenage heart, I wondered about Dylan. I wondered about the upcoming summer, about what dating him would mean. How people would treat me at school after they read the article. Even more, I wondered if I cared.

It was March of 1986 in a small town in Ohio after a crazy weekend that changed who I thought I was, the people I thought I knew, and the kind of person I wanted to be.

That’s a lot to learn in two days. I wondered what the years ahead had in store for me, what a lifetime could teach me. If love could be this profound, I couldn’t wait to see what the future held.

“I'll invite Philip, too,” Dad added, mumbling to himself.

He left, and I looked at Mom. She was staring at me, her gaze full of thoughtful introspection.

“I’m proud of you,” she said suddenly.

Surprised, I asked, “For what?”

“For being you, and for letting other people be themselves.” Standing, she squeezed my shoulder, and then started clearing off the table.

Getting up, I helped her.

1986 was going to be a good year. Time to start working on those soundtracks.

R
.K
. Ryals is the author of emotional and gripping young adult and new adult paranormal romance, contemporary romance, and fantasy. With a strong passion for charity and literacy, she works as a full time writer encouraging people to “share the love of reading one book at a time”. A self-proclaimed coffee-holic, R.K. Ryals was born in Jackson, Mississippi and makes her home in the Southern U.S. with her husband, her three daughters, and a coffee pot she honestly couldn’t live without. Should she ever become the owner of a fire-breathing dragon (tame of course), her life would be complete.

B
efore the internet
…before sext messages, selfies, like buttons, and d**k picks…epic loves and broken hearts played out offline, on mixtapes that became the self-made soundtracks of a generation.

Love in the 80s: A New Adult Mix
is a collection of ten contemporary romance, new adult, stand-alone novellas set in the 1980s.

Written by award-winning and bestselling authors, one digital novella will be released on the last Friday of each month January - October in 2016.

The title of each love story will be a hit song from the year that the novella represents. The totally awesome authors include: Casey L. Bond, Lindy Zart, Cambria Hebert, Amber Lynn Natusch, Misty Provencher, Rebecca Yarros, Rachel Higginson, RK Ryals, Cameo Renae and Chelsea Fine.

Love in the 80s: A New Adult Mix was created by UTOPiAcon founder, Janet Wallace, and is co-produced with award-winning book cover designer, Regina Wamba (together they are WaWa Productions).

Read on to check out, Love in the 80s: A New Adult Mix collection.

M
y name is Tina
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And I’m a victim.

Hot guys make my brain turn to mush. So, the fact that I was arrested then survived a massive earthquake only to be shackled to the fox next to me can all be overlooked, right?

Okay, so I was arrested before I met Luke. A tremor that caused a blackout at the LAPD precinct where we were being held. Although technically, I wasn’t shackled to him, I was handcuffed, but still. Any and all lapses in my usual—totally sane, I might add—judgments, are his fault. Totally.

I wouldn’t typically do the things I did. I’m no outlaw. I’m a college student.

Click here to read now.

T
he road trip
from Minnesota to Pennsylvania and back is meant to be the final adventure before four friends go their separate ways in the fall.

Except nothing goes as intended, beginning with the unexpected addition of Catherine Tate, Jessie Keller’s new girlfriend. Sam Kent denies his attraction to her while simultaneously deflecting unusual interest from his pal Hannah Lopez. Dickie Dean is the socially inept book lover who surprises them all.

Amidst a malfunctioning vehicle, being caught in the middle of a robbery, beer drinking, mosquito attacks, and other teenage drama, the five experience courage, broken hearts, fear, and laughter. Most importantly, they make memories.

Click here to read now.