Raveling You (Unraveling You 2)

“Because of this.” She flicks the back of my hand.

My expression sinks. I didn’t have my phone or any paper when I met Rebel Tonic, and he wanted to leave me with his private phone number. I found a pen in my pocket and jotted his phone number on my hand with every intention of transferring the digits to paper when I got home, but then I got sidetracked with rushing over here and forgot to wash the number off.

“God, I just made things super awkward, didn’t I?” Lyric mutters with a disheartened sigh. “After being like the coolest person ever, I’ve resorted to an awkward, unsure girl.” She stretches her fingers out, focused on her hands. “Can we pretend I didn’t just act like a jealous weirdo? It could be your early birthday present to me.”

My heart thuds deafeningly from inside my chest as I hook a finger under her chin and tip her face up. “You’re not acting like a jealous weirdo. You’re acting like a normal person. I’m the one who’s been the weirdo, shutting you out like I have. It’s not fair.” My heart rate quickens even more as she wets her lips with her tongue and briefly glances at my mouth.

God, if I could just kiss her without freaking out...

I’d kiss her all the time.

“So, just to be clear,” my voice wobbles embarrassingly, “I’d never go on a date with someone else. I don’t want to date at all. I mean, I do want to date, but I just can’t yet. I don’t think so, anyway.” I clear my throat. Nothing I’m saying is coming out right. “Okay, let me try that again. I don’t want to go out on a date with anyone other than you. I just don’t think I can handle dating right now.” I roll my eyes at myself. Man, I am the least smooth person ever. “See, now I’m the one who just made things awkward.”

“You didn’t make things awkward.” She searches my eyes, her own sparkling, a sign that my cheery Lyric is about to emerge. “So, my dad had a band cancel for his opening.”

Her abrupt subject change throws me off, but I latch on to her offering. It’s one of the reasons I love her so much…

Love her?

I shake my head at my thoughts, and Lyric’s face twists with perplexity.

No, I like her.

A lot.

I don’t even know what love is.

I can’t.

Can I?

“Did you offer up our help?” I absentmindedly twist a strand of her hair around my finger, shutting down my thoughts before I freak out.

“Well, duh.” She rolls her eyes then grins. “Of course I did.”

With each soft tug of her hair, her eyelids flutter and her lips part.

And, with each eyelid flutter and lip part, my pulse throbs.

I don’t stop.

I don’t want to stop until it becomes too much for me.

“And what’d he say?” My voice is surprisingly husky.

She moans, and that’s when I finally lose it, when I push my emotions too far. Images start to creep into my mind; a brush of hair and caresses of fingertips I don’t want touching me.

I untangle my fingers from her hair as a breath falters from my lips.

Lyric frowns disappointedly but doesn’t say anything. “The same old, same old.” She makes a flapping motion with her hand as she pulls a face, pretending to mimic her dad. “He yammered about my mental stability, said I needed more stage preparation, and that he needed more preparation for his daughter to freakin’ rock the socks off a bunch of people.”

My lips twitch in amusement. “And what did you tell him?”

“I told him we rocked, and if he heard us, he’d beg us to be in his lineup. I gave him something to really think about.” She winks at me. “Now, we should probably go practice for when he asks to see us play.” She laces her fingers through mine, rises from the bed, and then pulls me up with her.

“You really think he’s going to?” I question as we head for the door.

“Oh, yeah. I could see it in his eyes.” She points at her own. “He was totally wondering just how talented his daughter really is. In fact, I bet by tomorrow he’ll be asking to hear us play.”

“You really think we’re ready, though?” I ask as we descend the stairway toward the main floor of the two-story home. “I mean, we don’t even have a band name yet.”

“I have a few ideas for that.” She peers over her shoulder at me, her eyes sparkling mischievously. “Have a little faith in me and my awesomeness, would you?”

“I have a ton of faith in you and your awesomeness. It’s the rest of the band I’m worried about.”

She squeezes my hand reassuringly. “We’re all doing well. Granted, Nolan’s a little less motivated than you, Sage, and me. Do you ever get the feeling that his interest in the music industry is solely based on getting laid?”

“I’ve thought that a lot,” I reply as we enter the dimly lit kitchen that smells like vanilla with a hint of cleaner.

A plate of cookies Lila sent over this morning is on the countertop along with a stack of neon pink flyers for the opening of Infinite Bliss, Lyric’s dad’s new club.

“He’s so old school,” Lyric remarks as she picks up a flyer.

“He didn’t do any other promoting?” I steal a cookie off the plate.

“No, he did after I made a suggestion that flyers don’t work that well anymore.” She drops the flyer back onto the stack. “See, he totally owes me.” She grabs two cookies off the plate then steers us out the back door and to the driveway. “I just wish he’d realize that.” She puts the cookies in her mouth so she can open the garage door without letting go of my hand.

The night sky is lit up by the moon and the countless stars and matches the illuminated neighborhood covered with Christmas lights and decorations. I’ve lived here for over a year and still can’t get over how different it is from all the other homes I stayed at. So bright, cheery, welcoming. All the other homes were full of despair and were energy draining.

“Who is that?” Lyric suddenly asks.

I track her gaze to a man wearing a tracksuit with a dog on a leash. He’s slowly walking down the sidewalk with his attention on my house, specifically focusing on the second story, right on my bedroom window.

“I don’t know. He’s probably just some neighbor wondering why we have a half-deflated Santa near the front door of the house.”

My thoughts laugh at me, whisper another story, remind me that it was my neighbors who took me into their home and broke my brother as well as my sister and me.

Sharp objects, have you forgotten?

All those days forced into restraints.

All the blood spilled across the carpet.

The stench of rust hanging in the air.

Trust. Trust. Trust.

How can you still be so naïve?

Lyric looks at me with concern. “Yeah, I guess so … but he’s not even looking at the front door. And I think I saw him earlier, too, and he looked like he was staring at your window.”

I squint through the darkness to get a better look at him: middle-aged, going bald, a beer gut, and what looks like a scar on his jawline. For a brief moment, I pause, trying to connect the guy to my past. But my effort is worthless. The people who kidnapped me are buried in the darkest parts of my mind along with the memories of what they did to me.

“He looks like almost every other guy who lives on the street.” My inner voice laughs at me again. “I’m sure it’s nothing.” Even I don’t sound that convinced by my words, though.

“Maybe.” Lyric sounds doubtful. “Ay, I don’t want you to be upset with me for bringing it up, but… I was thinking about how those detectives said that maybe Aunt Lila and Uncle Ethan should keep an extra eye on you until they can figure out who was behind…” She anxiously waits for me to say something. When I don’t, she tacks on, “Maybe we should mention something to them, just in case.”

My eyes wander back to the man and I realize the he’s looking right at us. I instantly stumble back into the shadows and pull Lyric with me. Then I position myself in front of Lyric t

o protect her from being seen.

“Do you think he can see us?” Lyric whispers, fisting the bottom of my shirt as she peers over my shoulder.

“Not now.” My body convulses with spasms as her knuckles graze my lower back, but she doesn’t appear to notice, too preoccupied by the man. “But I’m sure he did before we ducked back here.”

I observe the man from around the corner of the garage. He continues to stare in our direction, before finally fixing his attention back on my house. Then with a jerk on the dog leash, he scurries down the sidewalk toward the end of the block and out of sight.

“That was weird.” Lyric steps around me, the absence of her warmth leaving me oddly cold inside. “We should definitely mention it to Aunt Lila.”

“Yeah, I guess we should. If you think so, anyway.” When I face her, she scowls at me. “What?”

“Not you guess,” she scolds. “You will tell her, or I will. I don’t care if it’s nothing. After … what happened, I’m not going to risk it, risk something happening to you.”

“There’s no use arguing with you, is there?”

“Nope. Not about this.”

“All right. When we get home from band practice, I’ll make sure to bring it up to Lila. Only for you, though. I’m not worried.”