Page 47 of Sing Your Secrets
thirteen
Reese
The first time I fell in love was seamless and smooth.
It was so easy.
It was like closing my eyes and letting sleep wash over me after an exhausting day. It was sneaky seductive. Every time Petey smiled, laughed, kissed me, or touched me, it was like pulling me into the water, just a little deeper. Before I realized what was going on, I was drowning, desperate to be the Bonnie to his Clyde.
Miles is different.
He’s a freight train and I’m tied down on the tracks.
I’m basically begging him to run me over. I know this man is going to ruin me. Because I feel it. It’s there. The spark…the chemistry. The little light I’ve been lacking for the past few years, and hot damn I didn’t expect to find it here—with him. At this point, I kind of hope the sex is disappointing so it’ll break the spell because I no longer feel like I have self-control in the matter.
“You want a drink?” Miles smiles at me from across the flimsy plastic table.
“Sure. Do you have kombucha?”
“Really?” he asks looking impressed as he makes his way to the mini fridge plugged in behind him.
“Yeah, your sour foot sodas are growing on me,” I say, popping a fresh kettle chip in my mouth, savoring the salty grease on my tongue. Mmm.
“Sour foot soda?” He laughs. “Then why’d you ask for one?”
He returns with a mason jar of the precariously tan colored liquid. “I’ve been trying to train myself to like it. Your homemade stuff is more palatable. The ones from the grocery store have—”
“So many added chemicals. My mom went through a crazy health kick my senior year of high school. She was trying to grow our own food.” Miles rolls his eyes, but he has a fond smile on his face. “Except, she had three grown sons and a husband who worked manual labor for twelve hours a day, so a garden salad with homegrown heirloom tomatoes wasn’t satisfying anyone.”
I laugh as I take a sip from the jar. This batch has a hint of lemon and honey.
He continues, “I think it hurt her feelings that we were all annoyed with her new homeopathic, organic, all-natural lifestyle, so I tried to be more supportive. We learned to make kombucha together.”
“Why is it so healthy?” I ask before taking another sip. Am I actually starting to like this shit?
“It’s good for digestion and maybe inflammation. I don’t know, honestly. There’s a bunch of supposed benefits—nothing proven.” He runs his hand through his frazzled hair, then trails it across his short beard. God, I love this look on him. The grungy, worn way a man looks when he works with his hands and sweats. So sexy. I was raised on R&B and hip-hop. I like a man with a little swagger, who’s kind of cocky, but not arrogant. The perfect specimen has Drake’s confidence, Diddy’s style, and Usher’s smile. Miles has none of that. Yet he’s perfect.
“But you drink it religiously anyway?”
“When I was in L.A., I’d get to the club at like seven, then bartend until three in the morning. I’d go home and sleep for about five hours before I’d wake up and take whatever temp jobs I could pick up. If I was lucky, I’d have about one hour in between jobs, and one afternoon a week to work on my music. I couldn’t poison myself with alcohol and energy drinks. I was working ridiculous hours and I needed to feel as healthy as I could. Did the kombucha help? I don’t know. But I guess it reminded me of Mom when I was feeling low. I missed her a lot when I was gone. I was her youngest, so we were really close as I was growing up.”
I feel a twinge of guilt. I’m not just my mom’s youngest, I’m her oldest. Her only. We don’t have any sweet memories like that.
“And here I thought you were just partying and screwing around with herds of women in L.A.”
He scoffs. “Oh, no. No way. No time. I mean I dated…but I didn’t date. You know?”
I’m way too damn direct to accept a vague response like that. “So, you were fucking around? Hm,” I say as I purse my lips. “It’s nice to know I’m the only girl you won’t hook up with.”
He tsks his tongue. “So sensitive.” A tender smile spreads across his face and touches his hazel eyes. He scoots his chair back and glides around the table before squatting down next to me so our eyes are level.
He leans in…
So close I can feel his breath against my skin, causing an agonizing tingle to zip down my spine. I hold my breath as his lips near mine. What the hell? It’s just a kiss. I’ve kissed so many men. It’s not a big deal. It’s just lips.
His against mine.
Mine on his.