Everything: A Singed Wings Novel (2 page)

Once we were excused, I bounded up the stairs, taking two at a time with my long stride, still somewhat dumbfounded. The opportunity that musicians all over the world prayed for was being served to me on a silver platter. All I had to do was get through the rest of my senior year — only eight short months of staying out of trouble and passing my classes — and then, it was mine for the taking. Music was my life, pumping hard through my veins, resonating deep within my bones. It was what I was born to do.

Nothing could steer me off track.

Nothing except the woman who would become my everything.

“
I LOOK RIDICULOUS
. Dresses are stupid,” I groaned, frowning at my reflection in the full-length mirror. I hated being short. Barely topping out at the five-foot mark, nothing ever fit me properly except kids’ clothes, and at twenty-five years old, I refused to shop in the same department as girls half my age. I didn’t need any help in looking younger; as it was, I had to show ID to get in to Rated-R movies.

Lindsey, my childhood best friend and pseudo-roommate at the present, sashayed over to me and crinkled up her nose at the black sweater-dress I’d purchased earlier in the afternoon. Without trying it on, of course.

“I told you the skinny jeans would look better. That doesn’t work at all,” she agreed, never having been one to lie to save my feelings. “Wear them with the off-the-shoulder blueish-purplish top you got. Your tits looked good in that. Plus,” she glanced down at her own jeans and silver blouse, “you’ll be much more comfortable in pants, not worrying about who can see your ass hanging out if we dance or end up playing pool or whatever.”

Her honest, no-bullshit attitude was one of the things I loved most about her. Oh, and the fact she and her husband were allowing me to live in their guest room for free until I had a chance to adjust to my impromptu move from Fairhope, Alabama to Houston, Texas, where they’d settled a few years earlier.

As if the stars of fate had finally aligned for me, just as I was finishing up my master’s degree at University of Southern Alabama and trying to find a job so that I could move out of my parents’ house, Lindsey had contacted me about a sudden opening for an art history teacher in the school district her husband Michael worked in. The only problem was they needed me to start on January third, the beginning of the new semester, and she’d called me on December twenty-seventh, giving me less than a week to pack my stuff up and make the seven-and-a-half-hour drive from my hometown to a city I knew absolutely nothing about.

I was on the road the next day.

All I could see was a chance for a fresh start, the break I’d been praying for. Leaving behind memories that I preferred to face as infrequently as possible, limiting trips to the couple of times a year I’d need to visit my parents, who, even after everything I’d put them through, loved and supported me wholeheartedly.

Getting to be close to Lindsey again for the first time since we went our separate ways after high school was just the icing on my new beginnings cake. And luckily, her husband
— who I worried about since he was almost ten years older than both of us —
turned out to be a pretty chill guy too, not only hooking me up with the job, but also offering for me to stay with them until I saved up some money and found a place of my own. I was truly happy she’d found someone like him.

“Can I wear my Docs with it, or do I need fancy shoes?” I asked, as I pulled the dress over my head and stalked back into the closet, tossing it into the bag with the receipt for a return.

Lindsey barked out a laugh. “Nothing at Empty’s Pub is ever fancy. It’s a family-owned bar that showcases some of the best live music in the city, and they’ve got this amazing patio area nestled around an outdoor stage. You’re gonna love it, I promise. Very relaxed. Michael and his buddies used to hang out there all the time in college, and we still meet up with them and their wives at least once a month or so. I’ll introduce you to everyone tonight, but they’ll all be very casual. The only people you’ll see dressed up are the barely-legal co-eds out on the prowl.”

“But it’s New Year’s Eve. Won’t people be more dressed up than normal? I don’t want to look like a slob. And do you think I need to put my hair up? I’m afraid it’s gonna get all windblown if we’re outside much.” I emerged from the walk-in in only my underclothes with my new outfit selection slung over my shoulder, modesty between the two of us nonexistent.

Turning around from the mirror where she was applying makeup, she fisted her hands on her hips and narrowed her crystal blue gaze on me. “Arabelle Marie Sloan, would you stop second-guessing yourself about everything? I know that dickwad did a number on you, but you’ve gotta put that shit behind you and accept the fact that you’re a smoking hot, smart-as-hell woman who is a fuckin’ prize-winning catch for any man. Now, you’re gonna change that God-awful excuse for lingerie into something that makes you feel sexy and doesn’t look like what my granny wears, put on the tight jeans, the boob-shirt, and your damn combat boots, and whatever you do, leave the hair down. Then you’re gonna go to this party and have a good time. Maybe you should even make out with a guy. Or two. Ya know, get your juices flowing again. You’ve been bottling that shit up for so long there’s probably a crusty film
—
”

“I got it, thanks,” I interjected, as I lifted my hands up in surrender, laughing hard. “We can talk about a lot of things, Linds, but I draw the line at my juices. A girl’s gotta keep some things to herself.”

A wide grin spread across her face. “But juices are important.”

I shook my head and walked over to my suitcase, digging out the only matching bra-and-panty set I owned. A simple, solid black lacy duo. Quickly, I changed into them then followed with the purposely-ripped jeans, iris-colored top, and my favorite boots. I was willing to leave a lot of things back in Alabama, but the boots weren’t one of them. They were my security blanket.

Striding back over to my friend, I smiled at her through the mirror, immensely pleased with my appearance. The little bit of mascara and lip gloss Lindsey had insisted on, accentuated my best features
— my big brown eyes and full lips — and I’d been wearing my hair in a bun for so long that I’d forgotten what it looked like down, the super-straight brown tresses falling well below my bra strap.
The outfit wasn’t anywhere close to the conservative style of clothing I was used to wearing, but that’s what this new chapter of my life was all about. Trying new things. Broadening my horizons. Spreading my wings.

“You’re right,” I finally admitted. “I want this. A clean slate. Thanks for helping a girl out when she needed it. I promise I’ll make the best of it.”

She wrapped her arm around my shoulders and pulled me in for a hug, kissing the top of my head like a mom would. “Good, and we can talk about the juices tomorrow. Let’s go find someone to uncork you tonight.”

FROM THE MOMENT
we arrived at the New Year’s Eve bash, a genuine smile stayed firmly plastered across my face as I reveled in the first night of my new life in my new city with my new friends, my brain on sensory overload. Taking it all in. The ambiance magical.

White paper lanterns strung from tree to tree surrounding the massive wood deck illuminated the area with a soft glow like something straight from a movie set. Groups of people ranging from college-aged kids to grandparents chatted, drank, and danced together, most wearing Happy New Year hats or silly glasses, all footloose and carefree. The combined smells of beer and peanuts from our table and deep-fried food coming from inside the old-warehouse-turned-bar filled my nose, reminding me of a county fair. For the first time in a long time, I felt youthful… hopeful.

Sitting around a wrought-iron patio table with Lindsey, Michael, and nearly a dozen of their friends, drinking pitchers of beer and listening to the live music, the guys all talked shit to each other about some fantasy football league they were in together. The wives ignored them for the most part, engaging in small talk about their kids or their jobs, and though they were all extremely nice and tried to include me in the conversation, it was hard not to feel a little bit like an outsider. I didn’t have children or a husband, and I sure as hell didn’t want to talk about the only serious relationship I’d been in. Without knowing much about what to expect at my upcoming job either, I didn’t have much to add to their discussions, so I nodded and laughed when I was supposed to, simply enjoying the laidback, cozy atmosphere. It felt as natural as hanging out in a friend’s backyard.

A handful of different bands took the stage throughout the evening, changing out every half hour or so, each one offering a distinct sound, but all of them incredibly talented. I loved the mix of popular covers and songs I’d never heard before. Not knowing what to expect next, I kept my ears open and alert, drinking in the lyrics and melodies. Though studying art was my first passion, music was a close second. If art was what emotions looked like, then music was what they sounded like. The perfect complement to each other, music and art allowed people to express themselves in ways where the spoken or written word was simply not enough. They both fascinated me.

“So what do you think of Adrian? He’s pretty cute, right?” Lindsey leaned over and whispered in my ear during one of the music breaks. Michael and a couple of his friends
—
including Adrian, the only single guy with our group who’d
coincidentally
sat down next to me when we’d gotten there
—
had gotten up on a beer run a few minutes prior, leaving the two of us somewhat out of earshot of the others.

Scoffing, I shook my head at her. “You had this whole thing set up, didn’t you? An attempt to get me laid or something?”

“Of course I did, and of course it is,” she hissed, fighting a losing battle to the wicked grin bending up the corners of her mouth. “He thinks you’re hot. I can tell he totally wants to fuck you. And don’t worry, we know him. It’s cool. He’s not like a weirdo or anything. Single. No kids with crazy baby-mama-drama. Makes a good paycheck. STD free.”

My eyebrows rose, not sure whether or not to believe her. “And you know this how?”

“He’s one of Michael’s coaches,” she laughed. “They have to take physicals before each semester. Michael would’ve told me if he’d failed.”

Chuckling, I shook my head. “Oh, good Lord, next you’re gonna give me his IQ and credit score.”

I should’ve known Lindsey would think the best way for me to move on from my life with Jonah would be to screw him out of my system. Unfortunately, I knew firsthand that approach didn’t work so well; I just hadn’t divulged that information to her quite yet. The months following
the breakup
were not a time I was particularly proud of. A lot of soul-searching in clubs and frat houses left me even more lost than I was to begin with. Thankfully, it didn’t take me (too) long to figure out that bent over a sofa or flat on my back with my legs in the air wasn’t where I’d find any answers.

“I don’t have either of those,” she dead-panned, pausing to take a drink from her frosty mug, “but I saw his dick once when we all went skinny-dipping, and I promise you won’t be disappointed. Boy is packing some heat in those jeans. At least six or seven inches soft.”

A bubble of laughter hiccupped out of me as my hand flew to cover my wide-open mouth. My eyes cut away from her as I felt my cheeks burn with embarrassment, but as soon as they did, my gaze locked with the guy who had just stepped up on the stage.

And suddenly, my entire body was ablaze. But it had nothing to do with Adrian or his six-inch-soft heat.