“It’s just come to me.”
“Give me the notepad.” She holds out her hand for it. “Keep playing,” she encourages after I give it to her, and I let the melody take control, closing my eyes as she starts scribbling furiously.
When I’ve finished, I open my eyes, and my heart melts at the excitement on her face, the passion shimmering in her eyes, as she logs words in my notepad. I’ve always believed Zeta and I were kindred spirits, but discovering she writes songs in her spare time just blew me away.
This girl speaks to me on so many different levels.
When she showed me all the songs she’s written, it was clear she has enormous talent, and that made me giddy with excitement. While I know it’s a pipe dream, my goal is to make my living from music one day. I imagine myself up on a stage, fans screaming, lights blinding, and the rhythmic beat of my band, and it’s everything. Music and Zeta are my life, and once I have both, I’ll be a happy man. Discovering the love of my life shares this creative streak with me gave me the hardest boner of my life. I swear I jerked off four times that day just thinking about it.
Now, every afternoon, when we’re not chatting or stealing sneaky kisses, we work on songs. I write the music, and she writes the lyrics, and then we tweak them together.
It’s the highlight of my day.
Knowing we’re a team, in every sense of the word, only reaffirms my belief that I’ve found the person I’m meant to share my life with. I know she’s my first girlfriend, my first everything, but I don’t need vast experience with the opposite sex to know she’s the one for me.
I feel it in every part of my being with all that I am.
Zeta is the only girl for me, and I’m going to work tirelessly to get her conviction overturned, because living my life without her in it just won’t cut it. She belongs with me, like I belong with her, and I’m going to make it a reality.
There’s only one thing playing on my mind that has the potential to derail what I’ve got going with Zeta, and that’s my past. She’s opened up to me, and I want to return her trust and faith, but I can’t. Because I’m terrified if she knows who I really am that she’ll walk away. At the same time, how can I expect her to commit to a life with me if she doesn’t understand the darkness that resides inside me? I’ve been puzzling over how to handle this as our weeks together start dwindling at a rapid pace, but she ends up taking the decision from me.
It’s four weeks until I’m released, and we’re in the library by ourselves, when she broaches the subject. “Ryder?” I lift my head from its resting place on her neck, hearing the uncertainty in her voice.
“What’s wrong?” I scrutinize her face, looking for evidence of what’s bothering her.
“Nothing’s wrong, it’s just I need to ask you something, and I think you might get mad.”
I wind my fingers through her hair, clasping the back of her neck. “You can ask me anything, Zeta. You should never be afraid to tell me what’s on your mind.” I say that, and I mean it, even as my heart starts thumping in my chest as anxiety rears its ugly head.
“You know why I’m in here, and I just wondered what your story is.” She bites on her lower lip in a way that always has my cock twitching in my pants. “It won’t change anything between us,” she assures me, “but I’m curious about your past because you’ve said some things in passing, and I think we had similar upbringings.” She pauses for a beat, squirming a little in her seat. “This isn’t coming out how I wanted it to.” She sighs. “Just that you’ve helped me a lot, and I want to help you. I know you have stuff on your mind, and I want to understand so I can help.”
I see the truth of her statement written all over her face. There isn’t any ulterior motive here. She just wants to understand me more, and I get that. I want to tell her but the risk of losing her is too great, so I tell her as much as I can, convincing myself it’s not lying if you conceal parts of the truth.
“My story isn’t a pleasant one. You sure you want to hear it?” I give her one last out.
“I want to know everything there is to know about you,” she quietly confirms, pecking my lips. “And there is nothing you can say which will make me love you any less. I love you to the ends of time, Ryder. I will never not love you.”
I slam my mouth down on hers, kissing her passionately, pouring everything I wish I could say into the kiss. When I pull back, we’re both panting.
“God, I want you so much,” she whispers. “I ache for you, Ryder.”
“I ache for you too, babe, and we’ll get there. Once both of us are free of this hellhole.”
She nods, completely in agreement with me on this even if she craves my body as much as I crave hers.
I lean back in my chair, taking her hand and locking her fingers in mine as I start explaining. “I never knew my dad. He was just one of a number of random men my mother fucked. I don’t understand why my mother kept me. Why she didn’t abort me or give me up for adoption, because a kid didn’t mix with her lifestyle.” I meet her gaze. “My mother was a prostitute too, except, unlike your mom, no one forced her into it. I basically raised myself. Spent much of my youth hanging around the streets, anything to avoid going home. I saw a lot of the same things as you, and I hated being there. We grew up in a poor neighborhood, and I fell in with the wrong crowd, joined a gang, and started doing all kinds of illegal shit.”
This is the part I need to fudge, and I hate that I’m not being wholly truthful even if I don’t have a choice. It’s better she doesn’t know what I’m truly capable of. And, I firmly believe, with her by my side that I can put that behind me and be a better man. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t entertain any notion of “us.”
“What happened?” She rubs my arm in a soothing gesture.
“It was a robbery gone wrong and … and someone died. We were responsible, and we all went down for it.”
“Oh.” Her voice is quiet, and I wonder if I’ve said too much even if I haven’t said enough.
“Do you hate me now?”
“What? No! Of course not.” She kisses me. “I love you. I could never hate you.”
