I try to wet my dry lips without Drix noticing, but with his face so close, I had to be unsuccessful. “What’s the large cymbal called?”
Drix raises our right hands and strikes the cymbal with such force that I flinch and then laugh. The type of laugh that starts in my stomach and is so joyous in sound that it feels like I’m flying. Drix laughs with me, his body creating a fantastic pressure as it shakes against mine.
“That is the crash cymbal.”
Drix releases my hands and rests his hands on the top of my thighs. I briefly close my eyes at the gentle touch. The tip of his index finger brushes against the line between my top and inner thigh. On purpose, not on purpose, I have no idea, but oh my God, my heart is going to explode.
My hands begin to lower, but Drix removes his right hand from my thigh to force them back up.
“What do you want me to do?” The question barely a whisper.
Drix angles his head, his mouth so close to my earlobe I swear to God his lips brush against the sensitive skin as he breathes out, “Play.”
As if I had become weightless, a feather prone to the desperate breeze, I rise from the bench. Reverently shaking my head back and forth, and my grip on the sticks loosens. “I can’t.”
A strong and firm hand on my shoulder and Drix exerts enough pressure I return to the bench. “You don’t have to know how to play. You just play. No perfection here, Elle. Just you being you.”
Just me being me. But who is that anymore?
My hands quiver as I timidly hit the tom-toms. Other than their hollow sound filling the garage, nothing happened. No mother yelling. No slap of pain against my hands. No disappointed stares. No shame.
Handling the sticks how Drix had gently positioned them in my hand earlier, I strike the snare drum. The sound causing me to sit straighter, more determined, and everything within me lifts to a higher level. My spirit, my lips, my cheekbones, my hands.
This. I can do this.
As if through their own volition, my hands move the sticks, hitting them against the different drums. My feet stomping on the pedals. No beat. No rhythm. Just noise, dissonance and freedom. The sound fills the garage, fills my soul, fills me. It’s loud, it’s overwhelming, it’s chaotic, and it’s peace.
I finally pull back, my chest rising and falling rapidly, adrenaline coursing through my veins, and I angle so that I can face Drix. “That was fantastic!”
Drix’s dark eyes stare at my lips, and I draw in a shallow breath, but I can’t release it. That hunger in his eyes, I’ve seen it before in my direction, but never had I felt that same hunger inside me...until now. Do my eyes look as wild as his? Does his heart beat as quickly as mine?
Drix tugs the sticks from my hands and drops them to the floor. They tap several times before rolling to a stop under the bench. The only other sound in the room is the buzzing of the light and the pulse in my ears.
He cradles the back of my head and stares intently into my eyes. “Can I be your first kiss?”
A million butterflies take flight in my chest, and the sudden motion makes me dizzy or maybe it’s how fast I’m nodding. “Yes.”
Drix’s thumb brushes my cheek as he tilts his head and lowers it to mine. His lips so close to my lips. Just a breath’s distance, and when I inhale, I’m consumed by his dark, rich scent.
“Me and you, Elle,” he whispers. “This belongs only to me and you.”
Yes, it does.
And he kisses me. His lips pressing against mine, and careful of my glasses, his fingers clutch my hair. Drix’s other hand rubs gently along my back. It’s soft and sweet, and warmth floods through me, and there’s this need for closer, to press near, for more.
Drix draws my lower lip into both of his, and I part my mouth. My heart beats hard at the idea of going further, beating hard at how I never want to stop. Drix accepts the invitation, our kiss deepens and I lose myself in the haze of it all.
My skin tingles with his touch, my mouth burns against his, my mind reels with his strong presence and touch. A strange falling sensation in my head and I pull back and gasp.
Breathing. I was forgetting to breathe.
I rest my forehead against Drix’s, and we both scramble for breath. Because this was the most intense moment of my life, I whisper his name.
I don’t know why, I don’t know what I’m trying to say, but he seems to understand as he kisses my forehead and gathers me into him. My head on his shoulder, my arms wrapped around him, his arms wrapped around me. An embrace that is warm, that is safe. An embrace I could stay in forever.
“What is this, Drix?” I whisper. “What is this between us?”
“I don’t know,” he says against my neck. “But I’m not ready to let it go yet.”
Neither am I.
Hendrix
There’s a knock on the door, and Elle pulls away from me and slips off the piano bench. But she doesn’t watch the door. She looks at me instead. Her gorgeous blue eyes shine. I rise to my feet, stretch out my arm, and hold out my hand to her. I should say something. Explain how I want her standing beside me when my family plows in, but this action feels stronger than a declaration. “If you want to keep us a secret from them, we can, but they won’t say a word to anyone about us. My secrets are their secrets. It’s how it works.”
“Your brother doesn’t like me.”
Another knock on the door, and I call out, “You can wait,” while keeping my hand outstretched. “My brother doesn’t like anything that’s going to hurt me. You make me happy. Give him a few minutes and he’ll see that.”
“He won’t tell Cynthia?”
“If I tell him to keep quiet, he will. That’s how we work. This family, we protect each other. I’m the one that messed up and walked from them when I was fifteen. But as I said, you want to keep us a secret, I’m fine with your call.”
The right side of her mouth quirks up, and she gives me this blinding grin. “Is that your way of asking me to be your girlfriend?”
“I guess it is.” I can’t help smiling along with her.
“You know when I first met you,” she says. “You told me you don’t smile very often.”
I did say that, and for the year leading up to meeting Elle, I couldn’t remember smiling. For six months before that, my smile wasn’t from joy, but from a fake and deluded sense of happy. “What can I say? You’re magical.”
She winks, and that confidence that belongs only to Elle returns as she places her hand in mine. “I am.”
Another bang on the door to the garage, and my sister shouts, “I’m coming in now!”
The knob turns, and sunlight and my sister’s head poke in. “You played the drums. I heard you. I mean, I heard something. You might be rusty, but you played.”
I squeeze Elle’s hand. “Elle played.”
Holiday’s eyes widen so big she looks close to a cartoon character. “You let someone else play your drums?”
“Is that a big deal?” Elle asks.
I lift one shoulder, but Holiday answers, “It’s a huge deal. A massive deal.” Her hand splays over her heart. “I’ve never played his drums, and he, in theory, loves me.” Holiday’s head jerks to the side. “Shut up. Shut the freak up. You’re holding her hand. You’re holding Ellison Monroe’s hand. He’s holding your hand. Are you two together? Like a couple? For real? You are. You’re together and I did this. I’m the one who sent the text and the reason Ellison came here. It was me. I did this!”
“It’s a secret,” I say, and she rolls her eyes in a “duh.”
“Of course, but still, you owe me because I did this. But anyhow, you’re together and Drix played and I want him to play again.”
“Yeah.” Dominic walks in behind Holiday. “But this time with a steady beat.”
No way. Elle playing was one thing, but me playing is something else. “I wa
s going to show Elle the house and get her something to eat.”
Dominic approaches Elle and holds out his hand. “I’m Dominic. His best friend. Nice to meet you. The house is a dump, but it’s better than mine. Honestly, you ain’t missing much, and pizza’s on the way. Do you like chicken wings?”
Elle blinks several times because that’s how someone reacts to a train wreck that is my family, but she releases me and shakes his hand. “I’m Elle, and I’ve never had a chicken wing.”
Dominic recoils. “What are you? Amish?”
“I bet Amish eat chicken wings,” says Holiday. “They shun electricity. Not food.”
“Po-tay-to. Po-tah-to. Same thing.”
“It’s not.”
Dominic picks up his electric guitar and says, “I’m always right, Holiday. Get used to it. Now, let’s do this.”
Axle and Marcus walk in together, laughing. Half of Marcus’s black shirt is stained with cake mix, and when Holiday points it out, he takes her hand and twirls her like they had been in mid-dance. Holiday giggles, then playfully shoves him away. Marcus winks, and I nod my head when he looks over at me. His family is toxic, but mine isn’t and I’m not afraid of sharing.
Axle rolls up the main garage door and a light breeze sweeps into the building along with a ball of fur. “Your dog whines when you leave. Figure out how to make it stop.”
Thor races toward me, his paws clicking against the concrete. Elle explodes into a supernova as she crouches down and holds her arms wide-open as if the dog could hug her back. Thor goes straight to her, and she loves on the ball of black-and-white fur as he licks her face. “He’s so big.”
True. I doubt she could even pick him up, and Thor’s impatient not understanding why he’s not in the air. With a tongue hanging out, he looks over at me, and I crouch and scratch him behind the ears. The sense of pride when I see him confuses me, but I go with it. I put my arm around Elle and kiss her temple, causing Thor to break into another round of licks for Elle.
My family suit up with their instruments with the seriousness of a soldier going to war. Dominic pats Kellen’s back as she picks up her bass guitar. He gives her some instructions of how to switch fingers on chords and encourages her to keep going, even when she gets behind. He then turns on his amp. She rolls her eyes behind his back because she’s a seasoned player, and he’s an idiot.
Holiday settles behind the piano, and my older brother stands in the doorway, his hip cocked against the frame.
From the start, my life with music has belonged to Axle. When I was six, Dad was in town; he picked me up from Mom’s, bought me a Happy Meal, and when he dumped me at his house, he promised he would teach me how to play guitar when he came back later that night.
Dad left me alone. I sat in the hallway, knees drawn up, arms wrapped around them, and watched as the rays of afternoon light slanted into rays of evening light. The house was hauntingly quiet except for the sound of the refrigerator humming, and I thought about calling Mom. She might have been drunk and passed out, but she was there. Always there.
Then there were clouds. Dark clouds, black clouds and thunder rumbled in the distance. Lightning flashed across the sky, and each strike felt like a shot through my stomach. Tornado sirens rang out, wind hit the house, and something banged against the side. I shook, head to toe, and the lights flickered, then blackness.
Tears burned my eyes, and I rolled into a ball. I didn’t want to be alone, I didn’t want to die, and I didn’t want to be in the dark. The wind howled, a screeching of a freight train, the ground trembling beneath me and a scream. The wind screaming, me screaming, the glass exploding and shattering throughout the house.
“Drix! Drix, where are you?” Arms around me and my screams were muffled into a shoulder covered by flannel. A hand behind my head, I was in the air, then dropped into the bathtub. The cold porcelain biting into my back and then a hard body on top of me.
“It’s okay,” Axle shouted over the wind. “It’s okay.”
And we lay there until the storm passed. Him over me. Me clinging to him. The wind died down. The rain slowed to a pattering on the tin roof, then stopped. Axle eventually pushed off me, helped me up, and the two of us slowly crept through our small house. Taking in the shards of glass in the living room, in the kitchen, but the walls were still standing.
Axle cleaned the glass off the counter, set me on it and looked me over for blood. “I told you after Dad bought you dinner to have him take you back to your mom’s.”
I rubbed my nose as Axle used a kitchen towel to clean up a cut on my knee. “He said he’d teach me how to play guitar.”
Axle’s head snapped up, his dark eyes meeting mine, and I saw something then I’ve seen too many times since. My hurt mirrored in him. “You don’t need him, Drix. If you want to play guitar, I’ll teach you. Whatever it is you need, I’ll give it to you. Neither of us need him.”
My older brother takes in my arm around Elle. He nods. I nod. Elle is my choice, she’s choosing me, and now Axle will defend her like he defends me. I slide my hand from around her shoulder and caress her back. “How do you feel about listening to some music?”
Her answering smile owns me entirely. “I would love that.” Good. All of this is good.
Ellison
An app that helps place stray animals in foster homes and eventually their forever home—that’s what I decided upon. It’s ambitious, but I’m starting to figure out that ambitious might be who I am. It’s a Wednesday, a rare day off for both me and Drix, and I’m at his garage again as this is the only place besides the occasional hotel room during a campaign stop where we can be alone.
Thor is laid out on his side dreaming puppy dreams—if he’s allowed to be called a puppy anymore. I’m convinced he’s part border collie/half bear. His feet twitch as if he’s on a run. He’s big now. Too big for me to pick up, but not big enough that he doesn’t try to sit on my lap. While he likes me, he worships Drix. Though he’d never say it, Drix worships him in return.
As I try to program, I’m also listening as Drix talks about timing. He throws out words like four-four, three-four, six-eight, and nine-eight. I’m only half listening, and I’m pretty sure he’s aware. He’s this new force of nature behind the drums, and he wants me to love them as much as he does, but I’m not sure it’s possible for anyone to love it more than him.
I close my laptop and rub my eyes. “My brain is going to explode.”
“From which part?” he asks. “The four-four?” He plays that beat. “Or the nine-eight?” He pounds that count as well, and I have to admit, he’s extremely sexy. Sometimes, Drix can be quiet and internal, but the more time we spend together, it feels like he’s beginning to fly.
He stops playing, grabs the folding chair I’m on and drags it closer to him. In seconds his lips are on mine, and my body is the equivalent to a struck match. His hand is in my hair, and he tilts my head so that he can kiss me deeper. Right as I reach over to touch him back, his cell rings.
Just like that, he’s gone, and somehow I miss his heat even in the sweltering summer afternoon. My fingers brush my now swollen lips. This. This is what being with Drix is like. A couple of weeks have passed since we first kissed, and I love kissing Drix. We haven’t done more than kissing, as kissing is my comfort level, and Drix seems fine parking it here.
But here is a very lovely place. Here includes lots of kissing, and that I adore. I also love his hands on my body, I love how he smiles, I love his voice, I love how he talks to me, I love just being near him, and I wish I could spend more time with him than what I currently do. The only time we’re alone besides the campaign trail is when Mom and Dad are traveling without me, which may only be one day a week.
“It’s Drix.” He answers his cell, and he reaches over and sweeps a stray hair away from my face. His fingers linger along my jawline, and pleasing goose bumps rise on my arms.
/>
His head inclines as if he’s surprised by whoever is on the line. “Yes.” A pause and a then he blinks. “Yes. That sounds great.” Pause number two, and whatever it is that’s being said is putting live electrical wires under his skin as he jumps to his feet and paces.
“Yes. Yes. Understood. I’ll be there and thank you.” Another round of pausing. “Okay. Thank you. Goodbye.”
Drix turns off his phone and stares at it as if it might ring again. He then blows out a long breath, and the anticipation threatens to eat me alive. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” He glances around the garage, and then he looks at me in complete shock. “I got the audition.
I can’t breathe. “You got the audition.”
“I got the audition.” Drix throws both hands in the air, and before I can get to my feet to celebrate with him, Drix takes two steps, and I yelp when he swings me into the air.
My feet off the floor, his arms two steel bands around my waist and he has me angled so that I’m looking down at him. I frame his face with my hands, and I drink him in with complete awe. Hendrix Pierce, the boy who a year ago was on a path to complete self-destruction, is creating a future molded just for him. “I’m so proud of you.”
“I knew I wanted this,” he says, “but I didn’t know how much until now. I want this, Elle. I want this spot in the school. I want to graduate from high school, and I want more. I can get out of this neighborhood. I can break the cycle. I can do this.”
“And you will.” I don’t know much about music, but I know when I’m in the presence of magic, and Drix is magic. Anytime Drix plays an instrument, anytime he’s behind his drums, he’s the most magical person in the universe.
I lean my head down, my lips whisper against his, and then my entire body shakes at the clanging in the corner. My hands push on Drix’s shoulders for release, but he keeps me steady against his body and off the floor as if I weigh nothing. “Chill. It’s Holiday.”