Unexpected (10 page)

She peeks up at me
and grins. “You're home early!”

Her enthusiasm is
unparalleled and pleases me more than I can admit. “It's raining.
It wouldn't be so bad if it was drizzling, but it's actually coming
down pretty good.” I sit down on the couch next to her, and reach
for her book. “So, what are you reading?”

She pulls the book
away before I can grab it. “It's a romance.”

“
Ah. What
kind of romance?” I reach again and this time get a hold of it. She
gasps and tries to get it back, but I stand up and
look
at it. “There appears to be a
half-naked couple on the cover.”

“
Give it
back!”

“
I want to
look at it.” She groans in frustration and presses a hand to her
forehead. I continue to look it over. “I think this is more than
just a kissing book.”

I hand it back to
her and she snatches it from me, tucking it away. “And?” she asks
with an eyebrow raised.

“
And nothing.
I was just curious, that's all.” I tilt my head. “Are you going to
keep reading?”

“
Not if
you're going to hover.”

“
Then you'd
better take off those glasses.”

She scrunches her
nose. “Why?”

I kneel down next
to her by the couch. Leaning into her, I say, “Because they are
impossibly sexy and I'm half tempted to kiss you if they're still
on ten seconds from now.”

Her eyes widen like
saucers. “What?”

“
I'm
serious,” I murmur, inching closer. “I will kiss you in a few
seconds if you don't take them off.”

Her mouth parts,
but she makes no move to reach for them. I watch as her chest rises
and falls, the nervous anticipation building in her. I'm mere
inches away, so close to stealing a kiss. Just as I'm about to make
good on my promise, she pulls them off swiftly.

I let out a breath,
holding back my disappointment. “Well, that was close.” Forcing a
smile, I stand back up. “I have a couple things I need to take care
of right now, but do you want to go out somewhere tonight? Like
grab some dinner or go to a bar for a drink?”

Alina nods. “That
actually sounds great.”

I spend the
next hour tidying up around the apartment I usually do this stuff
on Sundays since I'm off all day, but I figure
if I can get
most of it done today, I can relax most of the day tomorrow.

After taking care
of all the chores, I slip off to my bedroom and pull out my
acoustic guitar. I don't usually get much of a chance to practice
on it since whenever we play I use the electric. It's nice to go
back to the first guitar I ever picked up. My dad gave it to me
when I was thirteen. He thought if I spent time in musical
pursuits, it would keep me out of trouble. It did—for the most
part, anyway.

I strum some
chords, switching up the key a little bit to find where I want to
go today. I start playing one of the latest songs we've been trying
to learn—“Hanging by a Moment” by Lifehouse. They've always been
one of my favorite bands, and it didn't take much convincing to get
Phil and Brent to agree to cover it.

When I finish the
song, I can see Alina standing in my doorway. “Sorry,” she says. “I
wasn't trying to interrupt. I just love that song.”

I smile in
response. “Me, too.”

“
Can you play
something else for me?” she asks as she comes over and l
ies
down on the bed.

I shift so I'm
facing her. “Of course. Anything in particular you want to hear? I
know a decent number of songs, even though I can't play all of them
as well as that one.”

“
Play one of
your favorites.”

I think for a
moment, then begin to play “Chasing Cars” by Snow Patrol. Alina
closes her eyes, a dreamy smile playing on her lips. I sing the
song softly to her, watching her soak it all in. When I finish, she
says, “More,” without opening her eyes. So I play her another one,
and another, and another, until she falls asleep. I carefully stand
up and place my guitar back on its stand, then come back over to
the bed. She looks so peaceful, and there's a hint of that smile on
her lips still.

I want so much to
just lie down next to her, stroke her cheeks and brush my lips over
hers. But I can't because we're just friends. It's one thing to
joke around with her like I did earlier, but I can't cross that
line. Not right now. So I grab a blanket and place it over her,
then go to the living room and lie down on the couch.

~*~

We both nap for a
couple hours, then get up to go out. We settle on going to The
Green Room to check out the band they have. It's one I've seen
around called Losing to Win. They do covers like my band does, but
they mix in some obscure music, along with some original work.

After listening to
two songs, Alina breaks the silence between us by saying, “You
could have stayed, you know.”

“
What?”

“
In your bed.
You didn't have to go to the couch.”

I purse my lips,
trying to hold back my smirk. “I didn't think you would've approved
of that.”

“
Why not?
It's your bed after all.”

“
I'm trying
to respect your boundaries.” I tuck a strand of her hair behind her
ear and notice she has earrings in. “You put your earrings in
again.”

She reaches up to
touch them. “Yeah, I've been so distracted this week that I forgot
until I grabbed some the other day.”

“
Have you
ever thought about getting more piercings?”

“
Sometimes.”
She bites her lip to cover a smile. “Can I let you in on a
secret?”

“
Sure.”

“
I usually
end up with more piercings when I'm feeling rebellious. Not that it
really matters, but it's my subtle way of fighting the
system.”

“
Fighting the
system?”

“
You know,”
she says, holding out an open palm. “Like, girls should only have
one set of ear piercings, only wear skirts that rest above the
knee, never get a tattoo...that sort of thing. It was the mentality
a lot of parents had when I was growing up, including my mom. So,
when I graduated, I got the second set. My mom was furious when she
saw it, but after some time she stopped caring. She realized that
once a child becomes an adult, those rules no longer apply. Or
maybe she thinks it's cool.” She laughs, shaking her
head.

“
My first
tattoo was out of rebellion, too.”

“
Really?”

I nod, lifting the
edge of my sleeve to point to it. “It was the day I turned
eighteen. My parents were mad because I kept breaking curfew to
hang out with my friends. I wanted to show them I was mature, so I
went out on my birthday with Sam to the tattoo parlor in town and
got it done.”

“
So you got
the words 'No Regrets' tattooed on your arm?”

“
It was
probably the stupidest thing I could do to prove my point because
they were furious. Not like they could do anything about it—the ink
was permanent. Plus, I didn't regret it,” I say with a smirk, “so
there was no way in hell I was going to get rid of it.”

She smiles. “
How many do you have altogether?”

“Ten so far
.
Do you have any?”

She shakes her
head. “I haven't crossed into that territory of rebellion just
yet.”

“
I give it
three months.”

“
Three
months?”

“
The more
time you spend around me, the more you'll be tempted.” I give her a
wink. “And not just with tattoos.”

She pokes me with
her finger. “You might be right about the tattoos, but I think
it'll take longer than three months for me to get psyched up for
it. It's one thing to put a hole in my ear—I can take the earring
out and it'll close up. I can't do that with a tattoo.”

“
That's true.
But maybe someday.” I smile, waggling my eyebrows.

She smiles back.
“Maybe someday.”

Chapter
Eleven

–
Alina
–

I wake up
Sunday morning after another restless night to a text message from
Victoria saying I'd better finish getting my stuff out of the
apartment “or else.” I'm not sure what “or else” is supposed to
entail, unless she's planning
to steal
more of my stuff. I text her back saying she needs
to chill the hell out and I'll get everything else this week, even
though I have no idea how.

Since Ryan’s going over to his parents' house
again for more band practice I decide to tag along.
After an hour of listening to them play and
joke around, I decide to go outside for some fresh air by myself. I
open up my phone and find a couple messages from Drew. It's the
first he's tried to contact me since I told him off on Wednesday.
He says he misses me and wishes I would talk to him because he
wants to explain himself. I roll my eyes and sit down on their
porch swing.

A few minutes
later, Ryan opens the sliding glass doors and peeks outside. “Hey,”
he says, walking over and sitting down. “Everything okay?”

I hold up my phone
to show him the messages. “It's the same old story.”

“
What do you
mean?”

“
Drew isn't
the first guy to cheat on me. It happened in high school, too, with
this douche named Leo. He did the same stuff—tried to act all sweet
and thought that if he explained it, everything would be okay.” My
nose twitches and flares at the memory. “At least I have enough
sense not to drown my sorrows over idiots.”

As we sit here
quietly, the only sound we hear is the squeak of the swing as it
rocks back and forth. I'm about to tell him we should go back
inside when he asks, “Why don't you cry?”

His question shouldn’t surprise me, because
it’s one thing people often wonder.
I shrug. “No point in bothering. My life always spins back
around where it was. A guy comes in, somehow sweeps me off my feet
to the point where I have zero rational thought, he crushes me, I
dust myself off, and move on to the next one.”

He stops the swing, turning to me. “Wait, you
think that's normal?”

“It is for me. Circle of life.”

His forehead wrinkles. “What the hell, Alina?
Don't you have any self worth?”

“Why do you think I stopped caring? Because
if I did I would hurt. I'm protecting myself.”

“You're cutting yourself off, that's what
you're doing.”

My head flinches back. “Huh?”

“
Don't you
get it?” He reaches for my hand, holding it between both of his.
“You're distancing yourself from opening up to love because you
have grown to expect something bad to happen.”

“That's what always happens, though!”

“
Not every
story ends the same. Some of them have a twist. Some things in life
are unexpected. Some things like love.”

I close my eyes for
a couple seconds, then whisper, “But what if I fall in love and
he's not there to catch me?”

“You try again. And again. And again. Until
he does.”

“
What if he
doesn't?”

“Trust me Alina, he will.”

“How do you know?”

“
Because he's
a fool if he doesn't.”

The way Ryan looks at me is the same as
yesterday when he told me to take my glasses off and threatened to
kiss me. His eyes darkening, lids lowering, conflict spread across
his entire face as if he's trying to talk himself out of it. Part
of me wants him to remind himself that we're just friends, but the
other part of me? Wants him to kiss me.

Before either of us can talk ourselves out of
crossing the line, the door opens again and our eye contact breaks.
Phil steps out and sees us. “There you are.” Then he glances down
at Ryan holding my hand. He raises an eyebrow. “Am I interrupting
something?”

Ryan lets go of my hand and we shake our
heads. “You're not interrupting anything,” Ryan answers.

Phil still has a look on his face like he
begs to differ, but he doesn't press the subject. “Okay, well, Mom
and Dad just got home from the store and need help bringing in
groceries.”

“Sounds good.” Ryan stands and holds out a
hand to lift me up. We go inside and then back out the front door
to his parents' van. His mom is standing next to it hugging Brent
with a big smile, while his dad is pulling out bags from the
backseat. “Hey Mom, Dad—I want you to meet someone.”

His parents turn to Ryan and see me walking
next to him. The second his mom realizes who I am, she runs over
and takes my hands in hers. “Are you Alina?” When I nod, she pulls
me in for a hug. “Ryan told us all about you. I'm Trudy.” She holds
me back and tilts her head. “Ryan, you didn't tell me how beautiful
she is.”

I peek over at Ryan to find him already
getting embarrassed. He groans, running his fingers through his
hair. “I
did
tell you.”

She shakes her head
emphatically, her short brown hair bouncing. “No, you most
certainly did not.” She brushes it off. “Anyways, it's so nice to
finally meet you, Alina.”

After we get all
the groceries in, I help his mom put everything away while Ryan,
Phil, and Brent go back into the garage to finish their practice
session. I offer my assistance with dinner, which she's more than
happy to accept. While I'm slicing the cheese for the casserole,
she heats the pasta and potatoes. She puts the dish into the oven
and I help her clean up.

The boys come back
inside. Phil asks, “Is dinner ready yet?”