All She Wanted (2) (29 page)

Charlie

Just three more days…

Whoever said that life on a tour bus
was glamorous, was probably the same person who thought Spam was a good idea.
Apart from having no privacy—something I didn’t know I was privy to before this
little adventure began—it was also
uber
-claustrophobic.
Because there were twelve of us on board, we were usually allowed a night in a
hotel room twice a week. We also stopped for daily showers at different
locations on our route since the cramped on-board bathroom couldn’t accommodate
our incessant demands. If it wasn’t a
hotel
night
, we slept in our tiny bunk bed
compartments. There were fifteen of those compartments in total, and nothing
but a five-foot sliding curtain separated one sleeping pod from the next.

I would never again complain about sharing
a dorm room—ever.

The music part of the tour had helped
make up for some of the more annoying aspects of the six-week trek across the
U.S., and overall, I was grateful for being chosen to participate. I had made
some good friends—one in particular I had felt an instant connection with,
Camille Thompson. I had recognized her from around campus.

Camille was an exceptional violinist;
she was also a pretty amazing person. While the others went out and partied in
the evenings, we had decided to find alternative methods of entertainment.
Sometimes her boyfriend, Trey, would come with us, too. He was a pretty fun guy
to have around, though definitely the nerdy-poet type. They were a great match.

Though I missed the dancing, I no
longer felt the need to
escape
inside
a club. I was pretty much over that whole scene. There was also the fact that I
would get yet
another
safety lecture
about the dangers of
booty-call clubs
from Briggs if I went. In the end, it just wasn’t worth it. I could hear that
lecture in my sleep now.

Camille had been talking to her mom on
the phone outside when I got a text from Briggs.

Manny
knows best:
So,
what’s going on tonight…you’re still in Atlanta, right?

Me:
Yes. Camille and I are going to go to a
coffee house, I think. Live Jazz…should be pretty sweet.

Manny
knows best:
Is Trey
going with you girls?

I rolled my eyes.

Me:
No. We are taking a cab. Stop
worrying, Grandma.

Manny
knows best:
Ha…never gonna happen. How’d your show go this afternoon?

Me:
Was actually pretty great, made a few
new contacts. There was a ton of potential students that came from the local
high schools too. Professor Wade loved that.

Manny
knows best:
Cool. I
gotta
run, have a call. I’m at the station tonight, I’ll
check in with you later. Don’t do anything stupid, and wear pants—my definition.

He almost always ended with those same
closing words.

Me:
Ditto.

Manny
knows best:
Don’t be
cheeky. I’m serious.

Me:
Me too :-).

I stared at the screen for several
minutes after his last text had come
through,
pushing
down the feeling I always had when our communication was over. I missed him
more than I had ever missed anyone, and every day I wished the ache would
cease. I sighed and slid my phone back into my pocket.

“What time do you want to catch the
cab? I think the show starts at eight,” Camille asked, practically skipping
over to me. Her short auburn hair was cut in a pixie-style, which accented her
giant blue eyes. She was actually pretty
stinkin
’
adorable, but the best part about Camille was that she was almost as short as I
was.

“Maybe seven would be good, then,” I
said absently.

 
She
put her hand on her hip, tilting her head as she scrutinized me.

“Were you just out here texting with
your
non-boyfriend
, again?”
 

Her tone was full of teasing, but I still
stiffened at her word choice. “Why do you ask?” I deflected, like usual.

“Because every time you’re done talking
with him—either via text or call—you look like someone just stole your favorite
toy and set it on fire in front of you.”

There
was probably some truth to that statement, not that I would ever agree out
loud.

“Don’t be ridiculous. He was just
asking about our show today.”

She smiled, “Whatever you say, Charlie.
I’m no fool to the look of love…I denied it with Trey for nearly two years. I
feel ya sister, I really do.”

With that, she walked back onto the bus
to grab her purse. We had gone round and round with this conversation over the
past six weeks, and I had grown weary of explaining how things were between
Briggs and I. My
friend
argument
was getting as hard for me to
say as it was for my heart to believe. Still though, I pushed it all down.

I knew I was actively living in
bull-face denial, but what were my options, really?
It was either be happy with the way we had it…or don’t have it at all.

The latter I simply refused to accept.

**********

The coffee house,
Black Diamond
, was located in the heart of historic downtown
Atlanta. It was a beautiful three-story vintage colonial with small white
lights illuminating its perimeter. Camille and I both wore summer dresses and
heels, which were a far cry from the University’s polo and khaki uniform we
wore at every tour venue we had played at. It felt good to look feminine
again—it had been a while.

My eyes took a bit to adjust to the dim
atmosphere inside, but the jazz band was out of this world. It was no wonder
the place was completely packed. We managed to snag a small table in the very
back, but figured out real quick that we wouldn’t be able to have much of a
conversation; it was too loud.

About an hour into the evening, after
downing two large coffees, the band took a fifteen-minute intermission.

I was on my way back to use the ladies
room when I heard it: A voice from my past; the one I wished I could delete
from my mind.

But there it was…calling my name.

I turned, all the blood draining from
my face when I saw him. My head felt like I was on the tilt-o-whirl ride at the
fair. I wanted to cry and vomit, all at the same time.

“Alex?”

Oh
my…

His grin was exactly as I had remembered
it—maybe with a dash more predator than polish. He swore under his breath as
his eyes roamed my body. “Charlie? I can’t believe it—it
is
you. You look
amazing
,”
he said smoothly, tucking a piece of his jet-black hair behind his ear
casually. He leaned against the wall in the hallway, as if this were the most
natural place in the world to have a post-breakup run-in.

I
want to punch your smug face.

“Me neither,” I said, searching for
words.
What did I just say? Does that
even make sense?

He smiled, as if he knew the internal
warfare going on inside my head. I looked away from his eyes. He was like
Medusa’s male equivalent.

“Why are you in Atlanta, Charlie? Not
that I’m complaining…time’s been nothing but good to you darlin’.” I could feel
his eyes perusing my body again. I felt sick.

I swallowed hard, trying to remember
how to speak.

What
did he just ask me?

“Uh…I’m here on a summer music
tour—with the University.”

He nodded, and then he reached out and
touched my bare shoulder. His touch, as nauseating as it was, caused my mind to
re-focus. In that brief second, I felt myself stand-up straighter as I held his
gaze for the first time. I crossed my arms in front of me.

A look of surprise passed over his
face, he seemed to smile at me with amusement.

I’m
not your pet anymore, Alex.

“I always knew you were good enough for
the big stage, Charlie. I hope you don’t hold any hard feelings about how
things
ended
between us. You must
know I was right, though, don’t ya darlin’? We were both meant to stand out…on
our own.”

His thumb had rubbed a blazing circle
of fire into my shoulder before I shrugged off his entire arm at once. He
laughed, but kept his hands to himself.

“Don’t touch me.” I scowled at him.
“You
were
right, Alex. Thank you for
saving me from making the biggest mistake of my life.” The words dripped with
every ounce of animosity I had felt toward him for the past seven months.

He stared at me intensely, slowly
raising the side of his mouth into a lopsided grin. He leaned in closer, his
hot breath reaching the flush of my cheeks.

“You don’t have to play hostile,
Charlie. The engagement ploy was your idea if I remember correctly. It’s too
bad we had to ruin a good thing just to suit your guilty conscience. I never
wanted marriage.” He moved closer to me, our bodies practically smashed
together in the tight space. Awareness buzzed in my head as I heard Briggs’
words scream through my mind like a freight train. Alex lifted his hand to my
face, tracing my jaw, before trailing a finger down my neck.

I jerked back, “Don’t touch me.”

He chuckled at me and reached out again
for my face, this time, I grabbed his finger, wrenching it back, reveling in
the startled cry that came out of his mouth. The look he gave me after he
yanked his hand out of my grasp was one of shock and amazement—not exactly what
I had been going for.

“I said,
don’t
touch me!” I backed up a few more steps, staring straight
into his face. “I am not the same stupid, naive girl, you used to know, Alex.”

He didn’t miss a beat, “Ah, come on
now…you weren’t
that
naive, darlin’.
I have a very good memory.” He flashed a sinister smile at me, and this time I
actually felt the bile in my mouth. Clamping his hand on my arm, just above my
wrist, he pulled me toward him. Leaning down close to my ear he whispered, “I’d
be up for a refresher course though. I’m the Agent for this band tonight, my
hotel is just down the street, why don’t we-”

I didn’t let him finish. Though Alex
was twice my weight, and towered over me, I did the move I had practiced with
Briggs a hundred times in the field. I scooped my arm inward, whipping it up
into a block while I turned my free hand into a heel-strike, making contact
just under the side of his rib cage. The release was immediate. He stumbled
backward, colliding with the wall.
 

“It’s like you said, we were both made
to stand out…
on our own
.”
 

I turned just as Camille came around
the corner, relief flooding her face when she saw me—until she looked closer.

“Charlie…
are
you, okay? Did something happen?” She looked down the hallway, her eyes growing
huge with panic as she looked from Alex to me.

I gripped her arm, pulling her to me as
I forced my shaky legs to walk. “I will be—let’s get out of here.”

Briggs

Once I was back at the station, I
reached into my back pocket for my phone. It was just after midnight, which for
Charlie meant just after one in the morning. It had become an unspoken rule
between us to text
goodnight
—no
matter what craziness had been in our day, or how limited we were on our
talk-time.

We hadn’t missed a single evening—until
tonight.

Me:
You asleep, Shortcake?

I stared at the screen, hoping she
wasn’t. The unsettled feeling in my gut wasn’t going to rest until I heard from
her, I could tell. An instant later my phone buzzed in my hand.

Miss
Strawberry Shortcake:
No.
Sorry…I forgot to text. Goodnight.

Me:
Is everything okay?

Two minutes went by before she replied.
I knew the answer before I even looked at my phone. Something was wrong.

Miss
Strawberry Shortcake:
Don’t
freak out…but I saw Alex tonight. He was at the coffee house.

Charlie

Not even a full second went by before
Briggs was calling me. I silenced the vibration immediately as I was already
curled up in my tiny cocoon aboard the bus. I answered with a harsh whisper,
ignoring the groans of several exhausted students around me.

“Briggs…I can’t talk, people are
asleep.”

“Well that’s too dang bad. Figure it
out, Charlie. I’m not getting off this phone until you tell me what
happened…and I mean what
really
happened.”

“Just a second.”
    

I rolled my eyes in hopeless
frustration and climbed down the bunk ladder. Walking in the dark with only my
sleeping boxers and tank top on, I made my way to the rows of seats near the
front of the bus. I slumped down in one, resting my head against the window.

“Okay,” I said, breathing out in a
huff.

The good thing about it being
mid-summer in
Georgia,
was that the generator on the
bus had to work overtime in order to regulate the air-conditioning. This
thankfully created enough of a noise diversion for me to speak without
disturbing the others in the back, or worry too much about someone overhearing
me.

“What happened?” His voice was hard,
unwavering.

“He was there as the Agent of the band
we went to see…he found me during the intermission,” I said.

“I swear Charlie if he even laid a
finger on you I’ll-”

“I’m okay Briggs, I promise.” I took a
deep breath, debating on what I should tell him next. “I think I’m still just in
a bit of shock.”

“
Please
,
tell me what happened, Charlie.” There was an unmistakable plea in his voice
that flamed a fire in the pit of my belly.

I took a deep breath. “Before tonight I
thought I needed closure—to understand why he left me, why he walked out
without saying goodbye. I spent months thinking of what I’d say to him if I
ever got the chance. I thought if I could convince him to take me back, I would
finally be happy again.”

I could hear Briggs breathing on the
other end, which was the only way I knew he was still there, listening to me.

“But tonight…it was like I was seeing
him for the first time. I understand now why my parents acted the way they did
when I was with him, and I realized something else, too.”

“What’s that?” Briggs was quiet,
concern etched deep into his every word.

“I never loved him—not the way I know
love to be now, anyway.” I moved my legs to rest underneath me. “I was so
desperate, Briggs. I tried to fill a void with him—one I realize now was never
meant for him to fill.”

Briggs was quiet again for a moment,
and I was grateful. My confession didn’t need commentary; it just needed to be
heard. Tonight held more benefit to me than simply gaining closure; it had also
provided a giant revelation of contrast.

Alex wasn’t love, because Alex wasn’t
Briggs.

“I wish I was there with you right
now,” he whispered.

A warm tingle rushed over every pore of
my body.

“I wish that every day.” Emotion welled
in my throat as my eyes pricked with hot tears. In less than two seconds, they
were rolling down my cheeks.

“Are you crying, Shortcake?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

“Maybe just a little,” I peeped, “but
not about Alex.”

“I know,” he said softly.

“Briggs?” I asked, feeling a unique
surge of bravery.

“Yeah?”

“You know the night before I left to go
back to Austin?”

“Yeah.”

“And you ran to my house at midnight?”

I heard him exhale. “Yeah.”

“Did you really run all the way just to
tell me the
this-isn’t-really-a-goodbye
speech?”

Silence.

“I mean, it’s fine if you did…it just
felt like…before my dad came outside, like you might have wanted to say something
different.” My nerves were slowly taking over my whole body like an alien
invasion.

Did
I REALLY just ask him that? Oh my—

He sighed loudly into the phone,
“Charlie.”

I had never known my name to sound
mournful—until this moment, until it left his lips and entered my ears. It was
like a sorrow-filled dirge, penetrating my heart, and bruising my soul, all at
once.

“Help me understand, Briggs…please. I
need to know if-”

“You mean more to me than-” he stopped,
several seconds ticking by, “You mean so much to me, Charlie. I needed you to
believe that then—on
that
night—almost as much as I need for you to believe it now,
tonight
.”

I swallowed, a steady stream of tears
flowing once again, “I do believe that, Briggs, but…”

But
what?
But why can’t you love me back the way
I love you? But this sucks and hurts and feels like every time I hang up with
you a little more of my heart decays?

“I’m so incredibly proud of you—of what
you’re accomplishing. I can’t wait to watch you graduate and hear all about the
offers you get. Maybe I can come to one of your concerts in Rome or Spain or
Zimbabwe.”

I laughed, wiping my face clean of
tears and snot with the bottom of my shirt.

“I highly doubt I’ll be playing in any
concert halls in Zimbabwe, Briggs.”

“Hey—don’t limit yourself,” he teased.

I relaxed into the seat, the tense
moment vanishing with each new second that passed.

“Well…I know something else you’d be
proud of me for.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that, Shortcake?”

“I used both a wrist release and a
finger twist on Alex tonight—it worked like magic.”

“Charlie! You promised me that he
didn’t-”

Uh
oh.
He was angry.

“Whoa…whoa…whoa…hold your horses,
cowboy. I promised you that I was
fine
,
and I am. But I thought you should know that our little field sessions worked.
It was the most incredible feeling—you should have seen his face, Briggs.”

“It’s probably a good thing I didn’t,
Charlie. He wouldn’t have gotten off with a simple wrist-release or a
finger twist
as you so sweetly called
it.”

I smiled, “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too.” He sighed, “We
should probably call it a night. Do you think you can try to avoid any more
run-ins with your ex before you get back to campus?”

I laughed, covering my mouth as I
remembered the late—or rather, early hour. “I think I can, yes. Goodnight,
Briggs.”

“Goodnight Shortcake.”