All In (Miami Stories Book 2) Page 9

  "Can I kiss you, Sidney?" he asked, staring at my mouth.

  "Yes," I said with no hesitation. It was the understatement of the year. I was so giddy with anticipation that I had to work to hold back a giggle as I waited for him do it already. He came closer to me, stopping when the front of his body was nearly touching mine. He reached out and gently held my arm. The pressure was torturously light.

  I needed more—had to have more.

  There was nothing I could do to stop myself… I reached out and took a hold of the side of his shirt. I meant to just grab fabric, but my fingertips touched the side of his body, and I felt a gut-clenching wave of desire at the feel of my fingers against his taut torso. I took a sharp intake of breath, and he stepped closer to me, wearing a barely-there mischievous grin as he stared down at me.

  "You're so beautiful," he said. "On the inside and out." He reached up, placing his fingers on the side of my face. "I just love your precious face."

  I bit the inside of my lip.

  "I like yours too," I whispered weakly. I was going to say I loved it, but it felt like I might not deliver it right, and I changed my mind at the last second. Then, I felt weird about saying 'like' because I didn't like his face, I loved it. He had an amazing face. I loved it, obviously.

  "I love it," I said, changing my mind. "I meant to say I love it. You have a great face. I don’t just like it."

  The corners of his mouth lifted in a slow smirk on account of my ramblings. I was going to apologize, but he didn't give me the opportunity. Before I knew was happening, he came even closer. His face drew closer and closer to mine, causing my breaths to come in short, panting spurts. Finally, his lips were so close to mine that I could feel the heat of them.

  "Sidney," he whispered.

  I could feel his warm breath.

  I didn't answer him.

  I couldn't.

  I couldn’t bear to wait any longer.

  I stretched up, leaning into him at the same time that I pulled him closer using the grip I had on his shirt.

  Our lips met.

  The contact was excruciatingly delicate, but I had been aching for it to happen so badly that it felt as though I might actually faint. Lance gently sucked my lower lip into his mouth, opening just enough that I felt the slick wetness of the inside of his mouth. I gripped his shirt tighter and a tiny sound came from my throat. A deeper, approving, guttural sound came from Lance's chest just before he stepped closer, gripping me tighter and covering me with his kiss. I wrapped my arms around him, and he kissed me with gentle passion, moving and shifting his mouth over mine with sensual tenderness.

  His kiss was perfect. It gave me sensations and awakened needs I never knew existed. His mouth opening to mine caused waves of aching desire to flow through me, and I clutched him tighter, feeling like I never wanted to let him go. I wasn't sure how long we stood there—holding each other as we kissed. It must have been at least ten minutes before he finally broke contact.

  Lance pulled back just far enough that I could see his smile before he placed another kiss on the side of my mouth, then one on my cheek. He ducked, nestling his face under my chin and placing a few more kisses on the sensitive skin of my neck. I instinctually gripped him tightly when he did that, and I could feel his face shift as he smiled at my reaction.

  "I gotta let you go before I get us both in trouble," he said.

  "I know," I said, trying my best not to seem disappointed. "I have a busy day tomorrow."

  He took a step back, smiling at me.

  I straightened, smiling back at him and doing my best to ignore the unwelcome emptiness I felt without him next to me.

  "Thank you for coming over," he said. "And for doing the commercial. I'm really excited about it."

  I stooped to pick up Sheila's leash. It was fortunate she didn't feel like going anywhere because I probably wouldn't have noticed. "I feel like I should be thanking you," I said. "I'm having fun doing that commercial… and I had a really good time tonight. Thank you for inviting me."

  He grinned. "We'll have to do it again.

  "I hope so," I said, walking toward my car.

  That was the last thing we said to each other.

  We waved and smiled, and Lance stood in his driveway and watched me as I drove away.

  I was still thinking about him the following day.

  I kept picturing his house and his parents' house, and reliving various moments we shared. I felt a tangible toe-curling sensation at the memory of his kiss. I kept envisioning it. I couldn’t get him out of my head in other ways, too. Every time I glanced at the sky, I remembered the conversation we had about God. The fact that Lance had pointed out that simple way to be thankful made me respect and admire him. I just got this warm fuzzy feeling every time I thought about him, which was a lot. It was crazy how much he was on my mind. All night and the following morning, my thoughts kept going back to him.

  Finally, I had more distractions later in the day when I met up with the guys to record the music video. Jonah had been uncertain about where we were going to film, but ultimately, he decided to do all of it at the studio.

  It was a long afternoon. We all got our hair and makeup done, and then we did some shooting outside before going inside and doing it all over again. It was only a forty-second clip, but Jonah wanted to make sure he had enough footage to piece together something wonderful.

  We went at it all afternoon, trying different setups and angles. Dale had already done his part the day before, so he wasn't even there with us. Obviously, he trusted Jonah because he gave us the use of his studio and told us to lock up when we were finished.

  I actually had a lot of fun with those guys. Jonah and the musicians were all funny and easy to be around. They were all nice-looking guys who weren't shy about flirting with me, either. A couple of them had even mentioned wanting to take me out sometime.

  I was happy they were being so nice, but honestly, at that point, I only had eyes for Lance. Even while we were in the middle of working and I was surrounded by all those guys, my thoughts kept going back to him.

  It was nearly 6 o'clock in the evening when we wrapped up shooting. Jonah had promised us dinner, so he went with Gabe and Dustin to pick it up, leaving me at the studio with Trevor and Chris. They said it would take them about a half-hour, so Trevor and I stayed in the studio while Chris went out to the waterfront to take a walk and call his wife.

  Trevor was one of the main ones I talked to. He played guitar, and as the one who did that famous lick at the beginning of the song, he and I had done a lot of shots shoulder to shoulder. He was funny, and best of all, he was extremely down-to-earth.

  We had talked a lot that day, and I was happy to get to know someone who had a family that was as at least as flawed as mine. He had some sad stories from his childhood, but he was funny and had a good outlook on life, and we ended up laughing about our parents and comparing stories to see who had the most dysfunctional family.

  There was a couch in the studio and we sat on it, laughing and trying to one-up each other while the guys went to get dinner.

  I told him that the last birthday card I received from my father was when I was twelve, and that he had misspelled my name.

  He told me that last time he saw his father, he ended up with a black eye.

  I told him I had to pay my mom's electric bill the other day, and he told me that if his mom needed money, she would probably try to find a way to steal it from him.

  After experiencing Lance's perfect family the evening before, it actually made me feel a little better to know that there were good, kind, intelligent, successful people in the world who had grown up in less-than-perfect situations. It was a relief to be able to laugh about all of the craziness I had experienced growing up.

  Trevor was one of Miami's top studio musicians, and he had come from a situation that was far worse than mine. He was cool and kind, and I was thankful for the experience of getting to know him.

  It was those types
of conversations that gave me confidence and let me know that I wasn't alone.

  Chapter 13

  Lance

  "Hey, are you guys still working?" Lance asked picking up his phone when Jonah called him back.

  "We just wrapped up," Jonah said. "We're gonna watch a little bit of it just to make sure we got all we need, and I promised the crew dinner, but I think we're done shooting. I thought you were gonna come by."

  "I was, but I didn't want to interfere while you were working."

  "You wouldn't bother us," Jonah said. "It's your commercial. You could have been in the control room the whole time. There's one-way glass. We wouldn't have even known you were there."

  "I talked to Dale earlier and he told me the same thing," Lance said. "But I didn't want to bother y'all. I was just calling to see how it went."

  Jonah chuckled. "It's gonna be so classic, bro. I’m telling you, the guys really stepped it up, and Sidney's a natural. She's awesome. I'm gonna have fun with this one."

  "That's great news," Lance said. "I can't wait to see it."

  "You should come by," Jonah said. "I'm headed to pick up dinner for everybody, but I'll be back in a few, and you can watch a little of it with us. It's still rough, obviously, but it'll be fun, and you can see what we're working with."

  "I might do that," Lance said, looking at his watch. "I'm on my way home from my sister's place, so I'm not far from the studio."

  "I'll probably be another half-hour or so getting back, but you can go in without me. The studio's open. Sidney's still there with Trevor and Chris."

  Lance was headed in the opposite direction of the studio, and he proceeded to turn into the first available driveway so that he could turn around.

  "All right," he said. "I'll meet you up there."

  "Sounds great, man. I’m stoked on it."

  "Me too," Lance said.

  He said goodbye to Jonah and hung up his phone before tossing it onto his passenger's seat. He was driving his Camaro, which meant he only had access to the radio. He turned it up, and found that the station he'd been listening to was airing a commercial, so he changed the dial until he heard some music. It was Easy by The Commodores. It wasn't a song that had been in heavy rotation with him in the past, but it sounded good, so he turned it up. Plus, it helped that it was a Sunday like the song was saying—it wasn't Sunday morning, but still, it was Sunday, and the slow groove of the song fit his mood.

  The song only played for a minute or two more before it was over, and the next one that came on caused Lance to experience a yearning sensation. It was the Van Morrison song that he and Sidney had danced to at the wedding—Crazy Love. He turned it up. The song was a soundtrack to his memory of the dance they shared—the first day he had met her. He remembered it so vividly that he could almost feel her, smell her.

  The windows in his Camaro were down and the wind whipped through the car as he drove. He felt like everything was right with the world as he listened to that song. He wasn't sure that he believed in signs, but if he did, that song coming on the radio would have definitely been one. He couldn’t wait to see Sidney. She had taken over his thoughts. He had seen his family for lunch earlier that day and they asked him a ton of questions about her.

  When would they be done with the commercial?

  When would they get to see it?

  Were they dating?

  When was she coming over again?

  He told them the truth, which was that he didn't know the answer to any of those questions. Lance had dated some over the years, but it had been a while, and his family kept remarking about how they thought Sidney was different, special. There was no doubt in Lance's mind that she was special, but he played it cool with them, laughing it off and telling them they were getting ahead of themselves. The truth was, he was falling too hard and too fast for this girl. All the pieces were falling into place, including this dang song that had come on the radio, calling to his mind every feeling and sensation he had experienced during that dance. He wanted her so badly that he felt masculine urges like he wanted to find every other guy she had ever dated, or joked with, or talked to, and fight him.

  He pulled up at the studio just as the song was ending. He couldn't help but smile. He was smiling at the timing of the song, and the sight of her car, and the fact that he would walk through those doors and see her again.

  He went in through the control room. "Hello," he called. It was fairly dark in there, and his eyes had to adjust.

  "Her husband was physical with her. I think he was with my cousins, too. My dad never hurt us, not physically, at least. He was mean, though. And cheated on my mom constantly. He finally left when I was in fourth grade."

  Lance's heart dropped at the words. He would know Sidney's voice anywhere, but why in the world was she saying such things, and where was she? He thought, hoped, that this was some joke—some acting she was doing for whatever reason. Her voice was loud and clear in the control room, like he was listening to a recording of her.

  "Hello?" he repeated.

  Cautiously, he stepped further into the room peering into the studio through the window. Lance started to call out again, but he stopped himself when he came far enough into the room to catch sight of Sidney. She was sitting on a couch with a guy. They were looking at each other, and the sight of them instantly caused Lance to feel sick.

  "I was thirteen when my dad finally left," the guy said, his voice loud and clear through the speakers in the control room, just like Sidney's had been. "But it was a relief. He drank, and he used to hit us or push us and not even remember it the next day. By the time I was thirteen, I started taking up for myself and the rest of us. I started fighting back. I guess that was more than the old man bargained for, and one day, he just up and left. My mom still blames me for it sometimes. She brings it up when she's feeling lonely. But if I hadn't done anything to stop him, he would have really hurt one of us one day."

  "You did the right thing," Sidney said.

  "You need to come talk to my mom about that," he said, laughing a little. "She still romanticizes him… like I chased off her prince charming or something."

  Lance came further into the room—closer to the window. Sidney was sitting with a guy named Trevor—Lance had met him once before. They were on a plaid couch that lined the wall of the studio. There was about a foot or so of space separating them, but they were too close for Lance's comfort. Trevor had his arm on the back of the couch and his legs shifted toward Sidney, smiling at her as they talked. Sidney had her feet on the couch and was curled up in a ball, hugging her knees and looking at Trevor.

  The two of them were way too comfortable. They obviously had no idea he was there. Lance wasn't trying to sneak around or go unnoticed, but they couldn’t hear or see him. He looked around, trying to understand how he could hear them so clearly and then he realized the lights on the control board were on, which must have meant the microphones were too.

  "He wasn't a prince," Sidney said to him. "Not if he hurt you guys."

  "I know he wasn't," Trevor said. "But if you catch my mom in one of her nostalgic moods, she'll swear he was."

  "My mom gets nostalgic about my dad, too."

  "Has she been with anyone else?" Trevor asked.

  "A few times, very rarely. She or Aunt Regina will go on a date here and there. But really, I think they're both just content being single. Aunt Regina said she had her eye on this guy who just started working with her at Waffle House, but she'll probably never even go out with him."

  "That's your mom's sister?" he asked.

  "Yep."

  "They live together?"

  "Yep."

  "How long has that been the case?"

  "Forever, it seems. She moved in with us not long after my dad left. That was back in Cutler Bay."

  "Did your cousins move in, too?"

  Sidney nodded. "That was a crazy time. It was a tiny, three-bedroom place. One minute, me and Brandon had our own rooms, and the next, my aunt is
moving in with her two kids. I had to share a room with my brother. I stated off trying to share with my cousin, Brandy, but that didn’t work out."

  "Is she a mean person?" Trevor asked. Only he used a profane word in the place of 'mean person'—one that could describe a woman who isn't nice.

  That made Sidney laugh nervously. "Yeah, we didn't get along," she said. "I tried, but she's got problems. I felt bad for her because of how her dad was, but I was better off sharing a room with my brother. Brandon and I both got out of there the day we turned eighteen."

  "What'd you do?" Trevor asked.

  "Moved to Miami. Went to college. I got scholarships and moved into the dorms."

  "And look at you now, Miss High School Teacher." He smiled and reached out to pinch or poke her. "You should be proud of yourself."

  "I am," she said.

  "I got out the minute I turned eighteen, too," Trevor said, decorating the sentence with a few more cuss words. "I'm the only one in my family who's making it," he said.

  "Do the rest of them ask you for money?" Sidney asked.

  "I pay for my mom's cell phone, but that's only because she wasn't gonna get one otherwise. She kept calling me until I finally broke down and got her one. Now she texts." He laughed. "It's a small price to pay." He paused, but when Sidney didn't say anything right away, he continued. "I got money, but I'm not rolling in it, you know? I can't just walk around passing out hundreds. Every once in a while, I'll give my mom or one of my little brother's a little cash. They always say it's a loan, but it never is."

  Sidney laughed and shook her head like she knew exactly what he was talking about.

  "Why don't you let me take you out sometime?" Trevor asked, out of nowhere.

  Lance had seen him staring at Sidney the whole time, but he was gazing extra hard as she laughed just then. Lance was already completely thrown off by the intimate conversation they were having, but his palms instantly began sweating when that proposition was made. His hands balled into fists, his jaw clinched, and the muscles in his temple flexed. He felt like he was in real danger of picking up a chair and throwing it through that window, just to get their attention—to stop this conversation.