“Hey, Harry. How about you come up and sing Beyond the Sea?” It was the only other Bobby Darin song we knew.
“Oh, I don’t know.” He blushed.
“Come on,” I urged, watching the door to see if Trina was coming back in.
“Yes, Harry.”
“Come on Harry.”
The room chanted for him to sing.
He came up and I relinquished the mic to him. I left the stage and rushed from the room, hoping I could find Trina.
She wasn’t in the hall. I tried several doors, but they were locked. Finally, my only option was that she was in the ladies’ room or outside. I went out into the parking lot. The air was warm and smelled of summer.
“God damn him!”
I turned to see Trina pacing, kicking rocks, and cursing.
“What’s wrong?” I said, approaching carefully in case she wanted to lash out. I had no doubt that she could do some damage if she wanted to kick my ass.
She whirled on me. “You had no right to use my poems. My private words for Sinclair. It was fucked up when you did it to make fun of me ten years ago and it’s fucked up now.”
I’d never heard her use the f-word before, so this was a clue that she was well and truly pissed.
“Whoa, wait. I’m not making fun of you.”
“The hell you aren’t. That stupid little ditty you sang ten years ago? Everyone in Salvation was laughing at me. And now? Making fun of me again…” She started to storm off, but I caught her arm, ready to duck if she swung at me.
“You’ve got it all wrong. I liked your poems, especially this one. That’s why I put it to music.”
“You’re just teasing me. That’s all you do, Ryder. You poke and tease and make fun of me.”
Holy shit, was that what she thought? Was that why she was always so prickly toward me? “That’s not true.” I carefully took her other arm and tried to rub them both to calm her.
She pulled back, leaning against the outside of the building. I hated how defeated her expression was.
“Trina.”
She looked at me, and while she was trying to appear tough, I could see pain in her eyes and I hated myself for putting it there.
I searched my brain for what I could say to make her see that I wasn’t making fun of her. Taking a chance, I repeated the first words of her poem, “My heart beats for you.”
Before she could yell or hit me or both, I leaned forward and captured her lips with mine.
8
Trina
I wanted to yell and scream. I wanted to hit and punch him. I wanted him to never stop kissing me.
I ignored the warning bell sounding in my brain and gripped his shirt, holding him to me, kissing him back. He tasted like a man should; sexy, dark, with a hint of whiskey making me wonder if he snuck a shot before going on stage. He moaned, the sound of it reverberating through me, awakening all my senses. His hands held my hips like they’d never let go as his tongue slid along the seam of my mouth, ask
ing for entrance that I eagerly allowed. His tongue was hot, wet, and knew exactly what to do as it danced with mine. I’d kissed men before, but I’d never been kissed like this. Those other kisses had been nice. Kissing Ryder was a full-on body experience, heady, and intoxicating at the same time.
The door to the building opened and an elderly couple exited, the woman tugging at the man’s hand and pulling him against her as they started to kiss.
“Oops,” she said as she saw me and Ryder. With a giggle, she pulled the man back into the building.