Lovely
Authors: Beth Michele
Copyright © 2013 by Beth Michele
Cover Design by E.M. Tippetts
Editing by Erin Roth, Wise Owl Editing
Interior Design by Angela McLaurin, Fictional Formats
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.
All rights reserved.
Also by Beth Michele:
Love, Love
Chapter One –
Where did you come from, Angel?
Chapter Two –
Raindrops keep falling on my head
Chapter Four –
What’s a type, anyway?
Chapter Five –
I won’t take no for an answer
Chapter Six –
Nothing good ever comes easily
Chapter Eight –
The best kind of distraction
Chapter Nine –
Poetry for Dummies
Chapter Ten –
He who hesitates is truly lost
Chapter Eleven –
What do you want from me?
Chapter Twelve –
The pain that lies beneath
Chapter Thirteen –
Friends … a novel concept
Chapter Fourteen –
You make it better
Chapter Fifteen –
Slivers of light
Chapter Sixteen –
You’re disgusting
Chapter Seventeen –
Be still my heart
Chapter Twenty-One –
The road less traveled
Chapter Twenty-Two –
You made me feel my heart
Chapter Twenty-Three –
Letting go
Chapter Twenty-Four –
Strangled by fear
Chapter Twenty-Five –
Celebrate life
Chapter Twenty-Six –
Leaving on a jet plane
Chapter Twenty-Seven –
You have my heart
Chapter Twenty-Eight –
I choose you
Chapter Thirty –
The perfect plan … I think
Chapter Thirty-One –
A penny for your smile
Chapter Thirty-Two –
Meet me in the moonlight
To my amazing husband and two beautiful children, this would all be a dream if you weren’t standing by my side.
To all the brilliant poets of the past, present, and future … I truly believe that we are all poets. We just have to dig deep to find it within ourselves and have the courage to set it free.
Love is the voice under all silences, the hope which has no opposite in fear; the strength so strong mere force is feebleness: the truth more first than sun, more last than star.
—E.E. Cummings
Who am I?
Fuck if I know.
I step out of a scalding hot shower, humidity filling the bathroom, the air weighing so heavy it’s hard to breathe. I can relate. I wrap a towel around my waist and feel my way to the sink.
Who am I
? This question continues to plague me. My eyes crawl up to the mirror begging for an answer, but a buildup of moisture prevents me from seeing my reflection. I place my fists on either side of it, rub the steam off with my palm, and stare. As I contemplate this question, the only thing I’m left with are blank eyes looking back at me. I know this shouldn’t be, but it is. I’m a devoted son, responsible brother, trusted friend, excellent student, and a good fuck. I’ve been told I’m talented. And I suppose things come easy to me. My life seems perfect.
There shouldn’t be anything missing right? Wrong.
There is.
I only wish I knew what it was.
The glare of the late January sun pounds through the roof of my blood red BMW as I pull into the parking lot of Glendale College, the window rolled down, the cool, crisp air giving my face a wake-up call. I ease into my usual spot, the last space on the right abutting the Science building, slam the gear shift into park, and listen to one more riff of Creed’s “Higher” before I step out. The sunlight heats my neck as I sling my backpack over my shoulder, reach around to stuff in the package of Twinkies that fuel my tired brain, and make my way into the building. My first class isn’t for another hour, so there’s really no need to hurry.
Flurries of students rush around with purpose, hanging out by the football field or sneaking in that last drag of a cigarette before they head to class. I’m keenly aware of everyone else but they haven’t the first clue about me. They all think they do, though, and that’s the part that’s laughable. They can’t read the empty smile that tugs at the corners of my lips. The smile there’s nothing behind … nothing but longing and a burning loneliness crackling so deep that sometimes even
I
forget it’s there.
A familiar voice calls out to me and drags me from my thoughts. “Hey, Ash, wait up!”
I stop in my tracks to wait for Jason. Jason Carrigan and I have been friends for sixteen years; we’ve been through it all together. From chasing girls around the elementary school playground to nearly choking on our first toke of a cigarette behind the railroad tracks to quickly sobering each other up with the truth when it’s so desperately needed, we have each other’s backs and he’s like a second brother to me. “What’s up, Jason?”
Jason speeds toward me, his messy blond hair falling over his eyes, his long arms flailing as he attempts to control the books slipping out of his backpack. He manages to catch two of them before they hit the ground. “I’ve got to meet with Professor Hallsworth about my Linguistics exam and then I’m gonna go for breakfast. Wanna come?”
The thought of pancakes makes my mouth water, but my Econ paper calls. “I can’t. I’ve got a paper due and I need to head to the library to study.”
“Sounds like a blast. Alright, well, maybe we can play some hoops after …” Jason stops dead in his tracks. “Oh. My. God.”
I look up to see Olivia Winkler sauntering in our direction, all long legs and tight ass with tits that could make almost anyone drop to their knees.
Been there, done that
.
His mouth hangs open as she shoulders by me.
“Hey, Ash,” she coos.
His eyes widen, making him look like a cartoon character as he whips his head around to follow her movement. “Holy hell, Ash. Can I be you for just one day? Lord, just give me one day.”
I shake my head on a laugh. “Yeah, she’s hot as hell, but when she moaned it was like a gerbil being squeezed within an inch of its life.”
Jason slaps my arm and snorts. “Bro, for some of
that
, she can freaking squeal like a pig for all I care.”
“You, my friend,
are
a pig,” I mock.