Walking Heartbreak (16 page)

“She doesn’t like that I like you. She’s got to suck it up, because you’re beautiful. Everyone thinks you’re beautiful. Blaine too,” he added. Blaine! The guy who delivered groceries to the church kitchen?

The door to the nave creaked, and the psalm poured out as Mother exited. Jude pushed past the corner and whispered from the other side: “Nadia. Write me a note with your address on it. Leave it right there, beneath the doormat to the restroom. I’ll come see you tonight—at seven.”

“We eat at seven,” I said before I could think. “And I can’t, ever. You’re a boy.”

He rolled his eyes. “Boys are people too. You know what the Bible says, ‘You shall love boys like yourself.’ Eight?”

“No. What? The Bible doesn’t say that. It’s ‘You shall love thy neighbor like yourself.’”

Mother’s footstep sped down the hallway.

“Pff, that’s splitting hairs. Nine?” Jude said.

“No! I have to be at home and…”

“Ten. I’ll be in your yard—do you have a yard?”

“Yes, but—”

“Okay, ten p.m. in your backyard. Don’t forget the note or I’ll have to search for you on the Internet. Which I will.” Deep blue eyes fixed mine from past the corner until I slid my gaze to the floor in shame. Then he pecked my mouth lightly and ducked into the men’s room.

That night, he was there, just like he’d promised. Fear and thrill mingled inside me when I noticed him too close to the kitchen window.

“Bedtime, Nadia,” Father rumbled from the den where he read bible verses for Mother after dinner.

“I haven’t walked Daisy yet,” I said, and I’d made sure it wasn’t a lie.

“Daisy will have to wait until the morning,” Father decided. “It’s too late. Young ladies should never walk alone after dark.”

Mother looked up, searching my face for secrets, but I slumped to pick up my little dog and bury my face in her fur. “I can come with you,” she said, causing anxiety to prick at my nape.

“Maybe you’re right, Father,” I mumbled. “Maybe it is late and I should take Daisy out back instead before I go to bed.”

Father’s eyes softened with my easy submission, and so did the tension in Mother’s posture.

And that’s where I rendezvoused with Jude for the first time. In the dark, in a far corner of our backyard, beyond bushes and beneath oak trees. He lessened my shyness with his fingers on my cheek. With crooked quotes from the Bible that made me titter low. Each time, I told him he shouldn’t keep coming. Each time, he told me he’d be back tomorrow.

“‘
For I know the plans I have for you
—said Jude—
plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future
,’” he quoted on the fourth night. A mischievous glint in his eyes made my stomach flutter at his words, but I shook my head and smiled at him.

“That was the Lord, not you who said that.”

Jude groaned and held my face still so he could kiss my lips. “Is there anything I can trick you with from the Bible?”

“Probably not,” I answered, confident in one thing. “It is what I do after all, study the Bible.”

My Jude was skilled at sneaking around, having done so for years in San Francisco. He knew when to pull me out of the open and in under a tree, when my smile was too bright or I opened my mouth to speak where I was visible from our house.

Once, Mother leaned over the kitchen sink, staring out into the night. Jude noticed and handed me a branch to throw for my dog. When I did and Daisy refused to play along, he told me to shrug and shake my head to Mother. Her worry eased, a rare smile emerging before she disappeared from the window.

Jude’s hands pulled me back into the dark. “I’m quitting the Heavenly Harbor to start at the public school.” Sweet and lonely like me, he added, “If you kiss me again, it means you want me to keep visiting.”

I did. I already needed him like air.

Jude kept his word. He returned, night after night. Splashes of color and kisses in cold winter nights. He’d hold me, tell me about his school. I’d live my teenage life through his stories. Shrewd and cautious, he’d allow us ten minutes together. “Until you introduce me as your boyfriend to the old bat, we can’t let her discover us, can we?” he’d ask rhetorically.

I was never ready to see him leave. But the anticipation of knowing he’d be there like clockwork every night saved me even before
he
really did.

NADIA

“There you are,”
Zoe says as if she’s read the text I sent her on my way over. She usually doesn’t. “About time. They’re leaving from Emil and them’s house in freaking half an hour! The tour bus is pulling up. You want to see the tour bus, right?”

I thought they’d left. Now something is happening in my chest. Double beats, and then a long pause as if my heart’s trying to sink to the bottom of my stomach before resuming its rhythm.

“No. I just wanted to keep you company in case you were upset.”

“Upset? Why would I be upset? I’m going on tour with them!”

“What?” My mouth falls open on the question, not really producing the “t.” I’ve heard of no such plans. “You’ve known Emil for, what—a week?”

She starts giggling. “Nah, just messing with ya, babe.” Then she tips her head up high. “But! Emil said we’re invited to any of their concerts wherever the hell we want to go. Like Japan.”

“They’re going to…?”

“No! Ah you’re silly today. Gullible little thing.”

For the record, she’s shorter than me.

“But, you know, UCLA. Stanford, etcetera. All of those places. And we can go backstage at the arenas. Emil says this is essentially a small club and campus tour, but they have a few arenas mixed in too. Basically, wherever we want to go, they want us there.”

“Not Bo,” I say.

“Right, not Bo because he’s not obsessing over you,” she mocks.

I don’t need a replay of her opinions on this. I’m not sure why I opened that can of worms. She’s been on repeat for days.

“I’ll see you after, Zoe. You go check out the tour bus and kiss Emil goodbye. I’ll wait here and make you a root beer float,” I say.

“No, you’re coming. Bo asks about you every time. How mean would that be to not see him off, Nadia? Super-mean!”

“Just,” I sigh, tired again. Zoe is so opinionated. So stubborn. She reminds me a little bit of Jude. “This one you’re not winning. I’m not going.”

NADIA

“Isn’t it crazy huge?”
Zoe exclaims as she parks behind a silver bus.

“Same size as any old bus,” I say, but she just puffs air in disagreement and hops out of the car.

“Guess what they have in the hanger behind it.”

I don’t know that I care. I really wish I wasn’t here. This is just going to be awkward, and despite what she says, I have not been invited to say goodbye. “Their instruments?”

“Exactly, Emil told me everything last night. I totes know the layout of the bus on the inside, even.”

“So why are we here then?” I mutter, too low for her to hear.

“Zee,” Emil croons while opening the door. He cups her neck and draws her in for a kiss that lasts too long for me standing right behind them. Geez. I feel so out of place. How is it that she always wins? I look at my watch. It’ll be busy at the diner soon. Scott would welcome an extra hand.

But then Emil opens his eyes, sees me, and exclaims, “Holy balls—
the muse
is back. Bo!” he bellows into the apartment. “Hurry up before Nadia sprints off. She’s here but not for long, looks like.”

So now I don’t feel ten times more uncomfortable. Experience tells me the color of my face is a bright neon red. “I have work,” I say, but then Bo’s there too, eyes burning at me. Emil pulls Zoe out of the way, inside, and I’m face to face with my wet dream.

“You’re here,” Bo murmurs, brows raised in wonder. “I thought I’d bummed you out for life and I’d never see you again.”

Crap, he’s so magnetic. I don’t understand how Zoe could just waggle her fingers in greeting before she took off with Emil to his room; Bo’s presence sucks me in like the first night in that dressing room.

“You didn’t… No, that wasn’t it,” I manage.

He doesn’t hug me like he’s done almost every time we’ve met. I miss it. He’ll be gone soon, out of sight, all the way out of here.

“How long is the tour?” I ask.

“Three weeks.”

“
Three weeks
?” I don’t mean to sound desolate.

A flicker of surprise returns to his eyes. We’re inches apart, a low threshold the only thing separating us.

I feel my layer of shyness crack. Suddenly, I need to spend these last minutes well and etch his features into my mind for long, lonely nights.

“You’re going to miss me, huh?” Bo’s voice reaches the lower register, right where his backup vocals are on his latest song. Right where he was when he whispered for me to—

Nadia, you’re a freak!

I sneak an eyeful from under my lashes. I’m ravenous for his features. High, pale cheekbones; a perfect, medium-sized nose; and those frostbitten, grey eyes. His mouth, the only thing on his face with a splash of strong color. It’s so red, so kissable, with defined lips forming a double, upper arc and stubble dusting down to it from the nose. The upper bow ends abruptly at the corners, meeting a lower lip that’s fuller, plumper, and made to pull in between one’s teeth.

Do I remember how it feels to pull on his lip? No. I haven’t tried it. And Lord have mercy, right now I hate that I haven’t.

“Maybe a little,” I reply to his question and lift my hands to cool my cheeks.

“You’re so very sweet,” he husks. “It’s only for three weeks. I’ll be home soon.” And finally his hand is there, replacing mine against my cheek. “I’m not done getting to the bottom of you, Nadia.”

My body reacts with a hot stab to my abdomen. It travels downward, it’s delicious, and it makes me want to squeeze my thighs together. But then my flight instinct sets in, screaming for me to spin and run like mad home to Jude.

I exhale quickly for courage. Before I do what I never thought I’d do. Bo wouldn’t understand how unheard of it is when I tip my head back in search of his lips.

His arm goes around me and tightens, and I do what I dream of. I pull that fleshy lower lip into my mouth and savor it. Every fiber in me is getting ready for him, remembering, thinking this is it—we’re doing it again.

Bo moans. He freaking
moans
into my mouth, and I can’t stand how good it makes me feel. Our kiss becomes wet, slippery sweet, as his tongue parts my lips and finds
my
tongue to swirl with. Why, why does kissing him feel like this?

“Let’s go inside,” Bo whispers and draws me in, shuts the door behind me before I can nod.

“You’re leaving…”

“Shhh, not for long. You’ll fly out and visit.”

“I can’t. Work—”

The words, the light disagreement cutting out between kisses. He falls to the couch and drags me with him, hands in my hair and around my waist, kissing, sucking.

“Some shows are closer… drive. Train. We’ll make it happen.”

His thigh is between my legs, pressing against me, and even with the way he’s making me climb, I can’t believe myself when I say, “Okay.”

I jump high when someone bangs hard on the door. “Bo! Emil?”

“Dude!” Bo says. His body trembles a little beneath me. I let my hand slide up his thigh until I locate the outline of him, every slope and ridge hard and ready. “Ahh shit, Nadia,” he murmurs. He thrusts once into my hand, making me inhale sharply with what could have been. Then he grabs my head and sucks a last dizzying kiss to my mouth.

“Open. It’s road-trip time!” Elias shouts.

I curl up in the corner of the couch, knees high to my chest while Bo lets Elias in. Iridescently white in the doorway, he stares first at Bo—whose hand rests discretely over his zipper—then at me, and shakes his head.

“Wow. Unbelievable. He’s been whining about you for days—”

“I don’t whine.” Bo moves behind the breakfast bar and leans his hips against it.

“—and now she’s here. You guys. I congratulate you on the timing of your little
reunion
.” He waggles his brows. “Were you about to reschedule our departure? Send me a text ahead of time, man, like, ‘Got held up. Leaving tomorrow.’”

“Zip it, moron.” Bo grabs a glass and pours juice from the fridge. The juice will go old while they’re gone. Idly I wonder what else they have in there. Probably milk… I hope he eats healthy.

“Frustrated much?” Elias quips. “I think you just had fun on the couch. Just not
enough
fun.”

“Do you
ever
fucking shut up?” Bo barks.

“Geez, so touchy.” Elias lifts his hand in the air, showing his palms in surrender. “Troll’s outside, and Troy was pulling up when I came.”

We make it to the curb with no one getting into brawls. Zoe’s eyes are wet, which surprises me. She doesn’t tend to
need
her guys.

We get the full tour of the bus, which is a big camper. They’re going to be sleeping in one miniature room with floor-to-ceiling bunk beds and curtains instead of walls between them. For three weeks?

“You better be good friends, or you’d be bashing each other’s brains out,” Zoe describes what I’m thinking in less explicit visuals.

“We still do,” Troy says. “Or they do.” He points at the three Swedes. None of them denies the allegation.

Troll fusses with the coffeemaker in the kitchen and snaps something to the driver about it, then he turns to us and says, “Ready to roll? Are the girls coming?”

“I wish!” Zoe says, smiling big. “But no, we’re getting off the bus. We’ll come visit for sure though. Right, Nadia?” she asks because she knows how I hate being put on the spot.

“We’ll see…” I study a scratch in the rubber flooring.

“Ooh she’s considering it,” Elias goes. “Your charm might’ve finally worked on someone, Bo. And bring an extra friend, all right? Cute like you?”

“Nadia, a moment?” Bo asks politely and tips his head toward the lounge in the back of the bus.

Nervous, I follow him. I hope this isn’t about us.

“Five minutes, Bo!” Troll calls, almost drowning out Emil’s explanation about how Elias should just “grab” a groupie. As Bo slides the door shut behind us, I hear Elias’ reply, “Same difference. Zoe and Nadia are groupies. Figured they’d have groupie friends, and it’d be handy if they all came out together.”

“Sit?” Bo says, the lilt of his pitch indicating that it’s a question, not a command. The bench is a square sectional occupying the entire back wall of the bus, and we wedge in behind a coffee table that’s welded to the floor.

I obey even though I’m worried he’ll crack my defenses again like he did at his apartment. Thankfully, he doesn’t attack me with soft, firm, addictive lips. Neither does he lay his body over mine, commanding me with a warmth I can’t resist.

Spikes of jet-black hair skip against his eyelashes as he fixes on me, and I don’t think before I reach up to slide one of them behind his ear.

“Nadia,” he starts, voice low. “We haven’t known each other for very long, but I don’t want to leave you behind. There’s so much I want to talk with you about. And this tour, it’s going to be damn hectic. The whole video-going-viral thing has booked us solid with radio interviews and guest appearances between shows that weren’t even on the horizon before.”

“But you don’t like all the attention,” I blurt out, impulsive in ways I only am with him.

“True, but my music is my life. Right now that means it’s my chaos too.” He shakes his head. “I know. I’m not making sense.”

“No, I get it: like when you don’t have to talk or act or make someone excited. You can just bury yourself in your songs?”

He nods. “And I’ll be wishing you sat there listening to me, pouring out that sweet energy of yours. Plus, you don’t chatter on and on when I play.”

“You like the strong, silent type, huh?” I ask, smiling.

He rolls his eyes lazily and smirks back. “I like
you
.”

Bo hasn’t touched me since he shut the door behind us in the back lounge. Now, he traces the outline of my fingers against the table, and I shudder a little.

“See if you can come out next weekend,” he says, stopping in the deep crevice between my ring finger and my middle finger. He lifts his gaze slowly and watches me. “We’ll be in Vegas, working the Hard Rock venue. You can drive there with Zoe. Or take a bus—or I can transfer frequent flyer miles to you if you want.”

My first thought is that thanks to Jude’s parents, I have funds. I could fly to Vegas if I so decided. How twisted.

I would never.