The Girl in the Love Song (Lost Boys 1)

This love cuts until I bleed

Don’t touch me, baby, don’t look at my scars,

Until you want to know which ones are yours

All I’ll ever want

All I’ll ever want

Is for you to fall in love with me tonight

The last note wavered then dissipated. Violet held the phone a moment more, then hit stop and dropped her hands in her lap. Her mouth was open, her lush, full lips parted. Her porcelain skin was flushed and her eyes lit up. I saw me reflected in her eyes. Someone who just might make it out of this shit life after all with whatever talent God or the universe saw fit to give me.

“Miller, my God…” she breathed. “That was…”

For you. That was for you. You’re the girl in every song.

“That was…unreal,” she said.

“Yeah?”

Violet put her hand over her heart. “Yeah. Yes. Oh my God, Miller…”

She reached across the short distance between us with both arms and hugged me. I slid my guitar away and held her tight, closing my eyes and sinking into the circle of her embrace. Soft, warm…it smelled of her skin, her hair, her sweet breath on my neck.

“You’re going to go all the way,” she said, her lips against my shoulder. “I can feel it.”

And in that moment, bolstered and enveloped by her faith in me, I felt it too.

My head moved a little, led by my mouth that wanted hers. Her smooth cheek brushed against my stubbly one. Another small movement, hesitant, but with my entire heart bared behind it, and my lips brushed the corner of her mouth. She pulled back but only far enough to meet my gaze that was full of naked want. Her lips parted with a breathy little gasp, stripping away any restraint I had left.

With a small, rough sound of pure need, I kissed her.

I kissed my best friend. I altered us forever. No going back nor wanting to. Not wanting anything ever again but this.

My lips claimed hers, gently at first, and then with increasing need when she didn’t pull away. I was astounded that she didn’t pull away. She kissed me back. Her tongue, soft and warm, shyly sought entry into my mouth. Curious and hesitant. I let her in, taking this kiss and giving it back in waves of heated, wet perfection.

Goddamn, she tasted like apples and sugar, she was warmth and home. She was where I wanted to be, always.

I held her face in both hands, taking and sucking and drinking from her. Breaths came in short rasps through my nose; I needed her more than I needed air. With every passing moment, I grew more shocked—and scared—about how strong that need was. How kissing her was everything and yet nothing I was prepared for.

I couldn’t break away or save myself from the depth of my love for her. I thought I’d explored it in my songs. Navigated every twist and turn. Yet touching her like this—indulging in her—showed me that I knew nothing. That I’d been wandering a vast cavern for years with only a tiny flashlight. Now the walls were falling away, and the sunlight was pouring in.

Too much. Too good. It can’t be real. Can’t last. Nothing this good ever does.

And then it stopped.

Cold nothing replaced the warmth and wetness of her mouth as Violet gave a little cry and reared back, pushing my hands away. Her wide eyes searched mine. Her full lips were swollen and still wet from my kiss. Her delicate skin chafed by my stubble. Her nipples, now hard and straining against her shirt, tortured me for want of touching them.

“What are we doing?” she whispered.

I fumbled for something to say. The poetry that lived in my heart for her only came out on paper. In my mouth, it tangled and tripped over my self-doubt. My fears. The voice in my head that said I was a poor nobody, and she was a rich girl who deserved better. The sinister whisper, wearing Chet’s voice, that told me she’d wake up someday and realize it too.

Her fingertips flew to the redness on her lips. “Why did you kiss me?”

“I don’t… It just happened…”

“I told you River didn’t kiss me and your whole face changed,” she said, sliding off the bed and backing away, her fingers still on her lips. “You said you were happy for me.”