Beautiful Musician Read online

  “I don’t want you here.” She tightened the hold on herself.

  “If I leave now, neither of us will ever get over it.” I could tell that she still loved me. It was evident in every fragile move that she made, in every blink of her eyes, in every catch of her breath.

  I still loved her, too. Nothing could ever make me stop. “Please, let me make it up to you.”

  “You were mean to me. You aren’t supposed to be that way.”

  “I’m only human.” Or as human as a hallucination from Room 105 could be. “People make mistakes.”

  “What if you get mean again?”

  Clearly, she didn’t trust me. “I won’t, I promise.” I couldn’t bear for her to become paranoid of me. “I would die for you, Abby.”

  She shivered, the chill going straight to her bones. “Don’t say that.”

  “But it’s true. I’m alive because of you. You created me. I owe you everything.” My heart, my soul, my life. “You’re my world.”

  “You’re mine, too, but that doesn’t make it any better.” The lights in her eyes, her tears, threatened to fall.

  I tried for a smile, my secret charm. Or so I hoped. “I have a surprise for you.”

  “What kind of surprise?” She sounded curious, but cautious, too.

  “Come outside with me and I’ll show you.”

  “Outside where?”

  “In the garden.”

  “It’s not open at night.”

  “I know. That’s part of the surprise. Us sneaking out there together.”

  She appeared to be considering her options. Was she wavering, deciding if she should grant me the forgiveness I sought?

  I held out my hand, waiting to see if she would accept it.

  She stepped forward, and my pulse jumped to my throat. Finally, I was making headway, inching toward my goal.

  Our fingertips touched. Heat. Electricity. We gazed desperately at each other.

  “Seven.” She said my name in the softest of ways.

  I opened my arms, and she walked into my embrace. I wrapped myself around her, holding her as close as I possibly could.

  Nothing had ever overwhelmed me more. She’d created me, and I was healing her, taking away the pain I’d caused.

  “I’m so sorry,” I whispered.

  “It’s okay.” She put her head on my shoulder and suddenly her tears began to fall.

  I held her while she cried, running my fingers through her choppy hair. I loved her messiness. I loved everything about her.

  “Abby?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Can I kiss you?”

  She raised her head. Her face was streaked with salty rivulets. But she smiled anyway.

  “You can kiss me from now till eternity,” she said.

  “Then that’s what I’m going to do.”

  Were we actually saying this kind of stuff to each other? It sounded like the script from a cornball movie. We probably looked as if we were filming one, too. Bud would’ve been proud.

  Our mouths came together, our tongues meeting in passion-drenched need. An image flashed into my mind: the honeysuckle flowers that grew wild on her aunt’s property. When we were kids, we used to pluck them off their vines and suck on their sweetness. Abby tasted like that, only sexier.

  She pressed against me. I was too tall for her, and she was standing on her toes, her combat boots tapping mine.

  This was the kind of attachment dreams were made of. The fucked-up guy and the crazy girl.

  We kept kissing.

  And kissing some more.

  Life as we knew it was going to change. After tonight, everything would be different. We couldn’t go back and do things over. But by the same token, our future remained uncertain. Only now wasn’t the time to think about that.

  When I lifted my mouth from hers, she said, “Your barbell does make kissing hot.”

  She had no idea what else I could do with it. But I wasn’t going to take her in that direction. I moved gently away from her.

  “Let’s go outside,” I said, eager to show her how truly romantic I could be.

  Chapter Ten

  I opened the window, and she gaped at me.

  “We’re going to sneak out that way?” she asked.

  I nodded. “It’ll be easier than trying to slip out the front door without being seen. Or one of the side exits or whatever.” In actuality, Abby could leave anytime she wanted. This wasn’t a mental ward, like at a state or county hospital. Her admittance to The Manor had been voluntarily. Fancy-ass places like this usually were.

  She climbed out the window first, and I followed her. She glanced back and grinned. “Good thing my room is on the first floor.”

  The Manor didn’t have multiple stories. “Everything here is on the first floor.”

  “I know, but good thing, huh?”

  I smiled. She was being girlish and giddy. I grabbed her hand as soon as our feet hit solid ground.

  I guided her around the side of the building and toward the garden. We crept around like cat burglars, only we wouldn’t be stealing anything.

  We came to a stone wall with an iron gate shaped into a whimsical design.

  “What should we do now?” she asked.

  “We’re going to go over the gate.” It seemed easier than trying to scale the wall. “Just put your feet through the swirls at the bottom and keep climbing until you reach the bar at the top.”

  She nudged me ahead of her. “You go first.”

  That was probably a good idea. Once I was on the other side, I could help her down.

  I climbed the gate like a primate, moving up and over it as if it were a tree. Thankfully there were softly lit security lights keeping the area from being too dark.

  “Your turn,” I told her.

  She took her time, clutching the wrought iron carefully. Once she got closer to me, I circled my hands around her waist, making sure that she didn’t stumble before her feet touched the earth.

  “I made it,” she said.

  “You most certainly did.” I gave her a loud, happy kiss, smacking her lips with mine.

  She squealed and wrapped her arms around me. Tonight, life was good, becoming everything it should be.

  I said, “Before I take you to your surprise, I want to tell you about it.”

  “You can’t just let me see it?”

  “I’d rather tell you first.” I thought that was the best way to make this work. Otherwise, how was she going to see what I wanted her to see? In order to plant the right hallucination in her mind, I needed to describe the upcoming visual.

  “Okay. Go ahead. Tell me.”

  “It’s in the middle of the garden. In the arbor covered in wisteria. It’s especially pretty now because the flowers are blooming.” I paused for effect. “We made a fairy den out of it.”

  Her gaze locked onto mine. “We?”

  “Me and Face and Bud. We did it together. Face flew up and around the wisteria and hung strings of lights throughout the vines. He put lights inside the arbor itself, too. Bud directed the whole scenario, making sure each of us did our jobs.”

  “What was your job?”

  “I decorated the den with streamers and candles and pots of flowers. I also got the food and laid it out on a pretty blanket. It’s an assortment of pastries: cupcakes with buttercream frosting and colorful sprinkles, custard-filled pie, chocolates in the shapes of hearts. I got sparkling cider, too. We can pretend its champagne and toast each other.” I figured it was better to keep alcohol out of the equation since she wasn’t old enough to drink, and I’d nearly gotten bombed earlier.

  “I can’t wait.” She hopped up and down, light on her feet in spite of her heavy boots. She looked so bright and happy, wonderfully pleased with the description of my surprise.

  “I’m going to sing you a song I wrote, too.”

  “Is your guitar in the arbor?”

  I nodded. “It’s an authentic 1939 Martin acoustic.” By most standards, a guitar li
ke that would be staggeringly expensive, but in the sphere of schizophrenia, I could afford to own one. “The song is about a blue-eyed fae. That’s why we made the arbor into a fairy den.”

  She sighed like a smitten teenager, which was exactly what she was. Nineteen and Crazy. Like the country song, only with a different interpretation.

  “Can we go there now?” she asked.

  “Absolutely.” We walked toward the center of the garden, with the moon and the stars for company.

  As we approached the arbor, she gasped. “Oh, Seven. It’s beautiful.”

  It was a work of art, at least to us, anyway. No one else would be able to see it. If someone from the staff came outside, all they would find was Abby alone in the garden, without the idyllic trimmings.

  I tried not dwell on how truly sad that was or how it made me ache inside. I pushed away the bad feelings and took her hand.

  We ducked into the arbor and I said, “The blanket is blue and trimmed in lace, and the lights are soft pastels, just like the streamers.” I wanted her to see it exactly the way we’d created it. We’d spent hours working on it, treating it as if it was real. “The candles aren’t burning yet. I’ll light them now.” I removed an old-style Bic from my pocket and flicked it. “They’re caramel-scented candles in jeweled decanters.”

  “This is the most magical place ever.” Imagination bloomed in her eyes. “I love it.” She pressed a hand to her heart. “Everything is perfect. And the pastries. They look delicious. Where did you get them?”

  “From a bakery in 105.” I’d paid for them fair and square. If I’d gotten them here, I would’ve had to steal them. “All of the decorations came from 105, too.”

  We sat down together, and I opened the cider and poured it. I lifted my flute to hers. “To the most amazing girl I’ve ever known.”

  Her glass clinked with mine. “And the most amazing boy. You’re my beautiful musician, Seven.”

  Her compliment tugged at my heart, reminding me that she was my beautiful muse. We would always belong to each other in that way.

  She glanced around. “Where’s your guitar?”

  “Over there.” I gestured behind us. “I covered the case in rose petals.”

  “Oh, yes. I see. Oh, my goodness. You thought of everything.”

  I leaned forward to kiss her, soft, slow, and rife with passion. The caramel candles had begun scenting the air, making the moment sweeter.

  Soon we were indulging in the pastries, feeding each other bits of cake and pie and chocolate. While we ate, we made sounds of pleasure. It was downright orgasmic.

  When the time came for me to sing her my song, my nerves kicked in. Once she heard the lyrics, she would know for certain how tragically in love with her I was.

  Chapter Eleven

  I dusted the rose petals off the case and opened it, removing my prized guitar. Eric Clapton had used one in his iconic unplugged performance of Tears from Heaven, and somehow that seemed fitting. The fairy in my song was from heaven.

  I played it for Abby. I sang it from deep within my tortured soul.

  Tears rushed to her eyes. She understood. She comprehended the message.

  She was the blue-eyed fae who sprouted from the angels, her wings constructed from paper and glue and glitter.

  So easily torn. So easily damaged.

  The fairy’s smile was slightly crooked, her hair blonde and ragged. She was afraid of sleeping in the dark, but she danced in the moonlight when no one was looking. She wore clothes her sister gave her, and she took medicine that didn’t matter.

  She was the light of my meta-universe life. Without her, there would be no me. I was Seven because of her, and she always made me smile.

  If the monsters attacked me, I would bleed into the ground, giving her what was left of me. Warm and red. Crimson from my veins. Scarlet from my heart.

  I was hers, and she was mine.

  When the song ended and I put my guitar aside, Abby climbed onto my lap, face forward, so we could look into each other’s eyes.

  “I love you,” she said, her voice, her words, spiraling through me. “I think I’ve loved you from the first moment I saw you, only I was too young to know it.”

  “I think it was like that for me, too.” I scooped my arms around her. This was the kind of hallucination everyone should have.

  She rocked against me, putting her mouth to my ear. “Let’s go back to my room. Let’s take off our clothes and do what people do.”

  Her suggestion made me weak. I wanted her more than anything, but I knew better than to act too soon. “We shouldn’t be together like that, Abby.”

  Her chest rose and fell, and her tone was soft and pleading. “Yes, we should.”

  I inhaled the caramel that permeated her skin. Desire battled for control, assaulting my senses. “No, we shouldn’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it will make losing each other worse.”

  “Can’t we just mess around a little?”

  “A little will never be enough.”

  “It’s better than not at all.”

  Angels and fairies and desperate bits of sex. She was right. To abstain completely would hurt beyond repair. I lifted her up and carried her out of the den, the lights flickering behind us.

  “What’s going to happen in the morning?” she asked. “When someone from The Manor sees how you decorated the arbor and finds our half-eaten food and your guitar?”

  “Bud and Face are going to put it back the way it was before morning comes. They’ll pack up my guitar, too.”

  “Your song was the most special song in the world.”

  “Only because it was for you.” I’d never talked this way to a girl before. But I meant every white-hot word I said.

  We reached the gate, and I put Abby down. I watched her climb over it, thinking what a fine little ass she had. And now all I wanted was to cup its round perfection in my hands.

  I followed her over the gate, and we ran to her window like breathless children, reaching it in record time.

  Once we were inside her room, the dance of sweet destruction began.

  “We’re not going to take our clothes all the way off,” I said. If we stripped naked, I wouldn’t be able to hold back. “We’ll get rid of our shirts, but leave our jeans on.”

  Her cheeks flushed. “So you’re not going to touch me down there?”

  “Yeah, I’m going to touch you there, but I’ll do it with my hand inside your jeans.”

  The flush got brighter. Pretty and pink. “That’s how I do it to myself when I fantasize about you.”

  My vision blurred. My cock flared. I fantasized about her relentlessly. Sometimes when I was fucking other women, I imagined that I was inside her, thrusting all the way to her throat, but I decided not to mention that.

  I removed my shoes and shirt and waited for Abby to do the same. She went slowly, toying with the laces on her boots and fussing with the hem of her T-shirt. I wasn’t about to tell her to hurry. The anticipation aroused me even more.

  Finally, she stood before me in her bra.

  I flashed my dirtiest smile. I was just moments away from taking her to bed and giving her a creamy orgasm.

  She unhooked her bra. Her breasts were small, but I’d always believed that more than a mouthful was a waste.

  I moved forward and tugged her against me, fusing her nipples to my chest. While we were in that position, I took the liberty of cupping her ass, just once, the way I wanted to.

  We got under the covers and kissed, our bodies still pressed together. I dry humped her, rubbing my pelvis against hers and letting her feel how hard I was. If I’d been any less experienced, I would’ve popped. But I’d learned to control my urges.

  Someday I would make proper love to her, when the threat of losing each other was gone.

  If it was ever gone.

  I licked her nipples, going back and forth and making each one stand at attention; I put my thumb inside her belly button; I worke
d my hand into her jeans.

  Past her panties.

  Down.

  Farther down.

  To her clit.

  She nearly jumped off the bed. I’d hit her hot little button. Her eyes drifted half-closed. She whispered my name, so warm, so feathery.

  I upped the ante, putting my fingers inside, yet still keeping a pulse on her clit. Her muscles went taut, the heat between her legs deliciously wet.

  Making her come was my mission, and I did it well.

  Abby lifted her hips and thrashed with pleasure. She opened her eyes. I was braced on one elbow, watching her expression, and she dragged me down for a kiss.

  We rolled over the bed, kicking the covers out of our way. She rubbed me through my jeans, producing feel-good friction. Satan himself couldn’t have tempted me more. But I refrained from yanking off my pants.

  Good-bad me.

  This wasn’t the time, and I was determined to wait. We slowed down, floating in a sea of togetherness. But that didn’t stop her from climaxing again, her paper wings taking flight.

  And sprinkling glitter all over me.

  Chapter Twelve

  In the afterglow, she smiled, and my heart raced to the moon. It was the best sexual experience I’d ever had, and I hadn’t even gotten laid.

  She nudged my fly. “You’re still hard.”

  “I can’t help it. You have that effect on me.”

  “Can I see?”

  Little minx. She was flashing a dimple in the corner of her mouth that rarely made an appearance. “We already established the rules, missy. I’m keeping my pants on.”

  “Come on, Seven. Just let me peek into your jeans.”

  Holy mother. I stared at her smile. At her dimple. She was going to be the destruction of me yet. “All right. One peek.”

  I unzipped my pants. This made me feel like I was in middle school and I’d never even gone to school. I wasn’t formally educated. I just knew what I knew.

  I opened the denim a tad wider, and she glanced at the body part in question. It preened under her attention, bopping forward.

  When she reached in to touch it, I pulled my jeans closed. “No way, Abby. We’re not going there.”