Hey Girl (Turn it Up #9)

Chapter 10

10

CHRIS

I feel like a teenager having a beautiful summer romance. No, seriously. Insert cheesy, romantic comedy montage here, complete with piggy-back rides and playful photobooth flashes. The next week, I got her to join me on a video chat with Leo for thirty seconds, which turned into thirty minutes because the asshole charmed the pants off her - not literally, or I’d have to beat the pants off of him - again, not literally.

The week after that, I held her hand while she placed her order at Rudie’s - the restaurant where the wait staff is supposed to act like giant assholes, as opposed to where Asshole Clay works. That was fun.

In that time, Rebecca has successfully shed some layers - not all of them - and kicked back - not completely, but just enough to see that she is in fact a delightful goofball with a sharp wit.

Only now, as we make our way up Jack and Mayzie’s driveway, I feel a slight pull on my hand as Rebecca slows behind me.

“What’s up, Mouse?” I stop and look back at her.

“I’m not sure I’m ready for this.”

“A double date?” I ask, as I walk into her and reach for her shoulders and start rubbing my hands up and down them until I see them relax. “It’s just two other people besides me.”

“That will want to have conversa - sh - tion,” she points out, stumbling over her words.

“You have conversation with me all the time, sweet girl,” I reassure her. “You’ve jumped over some pretty huge hurdles since we’ve met. I know you’ve got this. Let’s breathe.” We do a few breaths in and out together. Damn, is that ever relaxing. I never knew slowing down and taking a few breaths could feel so good. “And if you can do that with me, these two will be a breeze, trust me.”

“You have kind of a point,” she chuckles quietly, stutter gone. I give her hand a squeeze and resume our pace up the driveway.

“Besides, you’ve already met Jack,” I point out. “And for the front man of the band, he’s actually the most boring,” I muse with an uncomfortable shrug.

“What?” She tilts her head to regard me. “How do you say that about your friend?”

“Of course he’s my friend, but he’s all ‘Oh, the music,’ or ‘oh Mayzie’” I mock my buddy as I wobble my head dubiously.`

“So he’s passionate,” she lifts a shoulder.

“I’m just saying he never does anything crazy. Not since he met her, anyway. And besides, Mayzie’s cool. She’s easy to talk to.”

“Are you afraid I’ll settle you down, like Mayzie did Jack?” She looks up at me, a hint of worry in her eyes.

“Worried? No, I’m not worried. Hell you already have, Mouse. I mean we literally took a walk in the park the other day,” I remember back to the smooth walkway and the dainty flowers poking out of the grass. I was half expecting Bambi to peek out of a bush and blink at me. “And I had absolutely no urge or desire to strip down to my birthday suit and cannonball into the pond or swing around the lamp post.” We make our way up the front steps and ring the doorbell.

Rebecca

Okay, Jack and Mayzie are wonderful. First of all, Jack knows his way around a steak. Second of all, they’ve been so perfect navigating my shyness tonight. They’ve found ways to include me in the conversation without me having to speak or respond so much and it’s warming me up, little bit by bit. As we have a quiet dinner on a screened-in portion of their deck, they give friendly smiles as they speak but don’t sit and stare, waiting for a response.

“I think it’s great you came over tonight, Rebecca,” Mayzie smiles encouragingly at me and I appreciate her kindness.

“Thanks, Mayzie,” I murmur softly and give her a warm smile as I cut another bite of my steak.

“It was a compromise. I’m—we’re helping her meet her daily challenge, while also doing something lowkey and quiet.”

“Which makes it a challenge for you,” Jack jabs, pointing his fork at him.

“Very funny, Jack-a-Lack!” Chris sneers at him. “But yes, if you must know, I chose you two in particular to help keep me in line.”

“When he gets out of hand,”—Jack waves his utensils, wrists resting on the table—“you just treat him like a toddler or a golden retriever puppy and it reins him in.”

“What?!” Chris jumps to his feet, making me jolt. Jack sits back, unamused, and Mayzie takes a casual sip of her wine. “How dare you!” Chris swipes up the nearest object on the table to him which happens to be a dinner roll. “I hereby throw down this -,”

“Chris, I’ll buy you a pack of scratch ‘n’ sniff stickers if you sit back down,” Jack interrupts with a lazy expression.

Chris’s hairline relaxes as his eyes go hopeful and he halts his impending spiking of the dinner roll. “Really?” He schools his features back into theatrically pissed off. “I mean, no! You cannot win me over with infantile bribery! Your remark was insulting sir, and I demand you -,”

“Kumquat,” I say.

His mouth closes mid-rant, and he sits, looking at me as if awaiting further orders.

I can’t believe that slipped out so easily, and I quickly look to both Jack and Mayzie, gauging their reactions so that I know whether to duck under the table in mortification or not. Mayzie is still clutching her wine glass but her eyes are alight and appears to be holding back a laugh while Jack leans forward with warm look that suggests he’s … impressed?

“Wow,” he muses as he looks between Chris and me. “So, all this time, all it took was some code word to chill him out?”

“It’s a trick I learned from his mom,” I raise a shoulder and smile shyly down at my wine.

“She’s met your mom?” Jack’s gaze swings over to Chris in disbelief.

“Jack,” Chris tries to keep his voice level as he fidgets in his seat. “I would like it very much if you’d apologize for your hurtful comments.”

As Jack opens his mouth, I surprise myself yet again by speaking up. “Don’t worry about it, Jack. He called you boring on the way over here.”

This makes Jack’s mouth snap shut as he whips his head to face Chris again while this time, Mayzie’s small laugh bursts free.

“I didn’t mean boring,” Chris swipes up his wine glass and holds his arms out with a facetious wobble of his head.

“I’m the romantic one,” Jack proclaims with a firm tone, holding his hand out open-palmed, resting it on the table next to Mayzie, and she places hers inside it.

“And I’m the crazy one,” Chris gestures at himself. “And Matt’s the leader and Josh is the asshole.”

“Pay close attention at next week’s show,” Jack nods. “You’ll see what we mean,” he chuckles and tucks back into his meal while I have a nervous breakdown.

“Sh - show?” I ask, feeling my nerves ramp up. And great, it sounds like I just said shit show.

“Yeah, it’s the anniversary of the St. Michelle, the oldest building in the city. We shot our first video there.” I don’t know Jack missed my little stutter there or if he just doesn’t give a shit. Either way, it rocks. But my nerves are still throwing a rave and my speech is about to get worse. I feel the blood drain from my face.

“Rebecca,” Mayzie leans forward. “Are you okay?” She asks gently.

“S-S-Saturday?” I repeat. “As in f-four days from now?”

“Oop!’ Chris makes a noise as he pushes his chair back, looking as if he simply needs the bathroom. He hurries behind my chair and pulls it back gently. Is he humming?

“You guys good?” Jack asks over his glass as Chris gingerly takes hold of my elbows and helps me stand.

“Yep, all good! She’s just trying to self-destruct, and we can’t let that happen. Here we go, Mouse, we’re just going to take a nice little walk, just the two of us.”

I nod, as I feel my breath start to shorten while Chris takes my hand and leads me out the screen door and down the steps into the back yard. He sets our pace to one that’s slow and rhythmic as he starts in on breathing instruction. “Okay Mouse, breathe in, two, three, four, and out, two, three, four.”

I feel better already, but I take advantage of another few rounds of breathing with our footsteps.

We continue walking, and Chris must sense when my breathing returns to normal, because he veers us towards a bench that sits at the edge of the yard. While the lights still glow from the porch, the view the bench faces is rather dark. I can only tell that it’s a big grassy clearing and can just make out a shrubbery hedge on the far side. I stare out into the darkness, wondering what this little place looks like during the day.

“So, my sweet sexy girl, what was all that about? You were doing great back there, but something set you off.”

I nod a little absently but make myself look up at him. I shake my head trying to think of a way to explain. They just started talking about a concert. It’s not like we got transported there, in the midst of thousands of screaming people where the stands come to life and eat me alive. It’s not like me to get set off by just a word. Then again, it’s not like me to come down from a panic fit so quickly either. Chris was all over it. The least I can do is give him a reason.

Come on Rebecca, help him help you.

I take a breath and try again. “For some reason, I pictured myself there, and it got me panicky,” I confess. “That doesn’t usually happen. Maybe because it’s important to you. It’s part of your world, but it’s a part I can’t fit into.”

Chris nods, looking thoughtful. He’s kind of nice like this. Don’t get me wrong. I love the crazy, whacky drummer I’ve been dating. I love all his energy, and I had no idea I needed laughter in my life so much until he came along. But this calm and peaceful side is refreshing. It shows a humble attentiveness and a maturity that I’ve always known lay sleeping somewhere deep underneath.

I wait for him to speak and am just starting to get nervous when he looks off in the distance and points. “Check it out.”

“What?” I turn my face in the direction he’s pointing to see all the shrubs dotted in tiny but bright lights. “The fireflies?”

“Those aren’t fireflies,” he calmly argues.

“Fine, lightning bugs, whatever.” He pulls me into his lap, and we look at all the little lights together.

“Nope, those are fans,” he says smugly.

“Okay, are we playing some kind of make-believe game? I’m not following.”

“That,” he points towards all the fireflies again “is a bunch of fans gathered at a Turn it Up concert. We’re playing one of our classics, and they’re showing respect by holding their lighters, or I guess cell phones in the air.”

I glance out at the dainty little lights. There are hundreds of them, and when I let my imagination take over, it truly does look like we’re in a stadium full of lighter-holding fans.

“I get it,” I try to tell him gently. “But we’re not at your concert. We’re in a quiet little park full of cute, non-threatening little fireflies. It’s not the same thing.”

“Bullshit,” he argues with a smirk and it makes me want to slap it off his face. “We are at one of my shows, I’m about to rock the socks off those people out there, and you’re just here, cool as a cucumber, ready to see me play for you.”

“They’re fireflies.”

“I don’t believe you,” he practically sings.

“Chris! Those are not fans! I don’t know what you're doing but those are not your fans! Those are a thousand little bugs whose asses light up and don’t have a clue who you are because their brains are the size of - oh,” I cut myself off mid-rant when I see what his sneaky ass is trying to pull. I turn to find his wickedly cheesy smile with that damn quirky eyebrow that I want to smack off his face sometimes but I don’t because it’s part of his infernal sex appeal.

“You really believe that don’t you?” He teasingly challenges. “Those are not people out there. They’re just harmless little fireflies, and if you try hard enough, I bet you could do the same thing at the show if you want to. But if you don’t, nothing changes. I do my thing and come to your place after with a bucket of burritos.”

This guy disserves a kiss and before I can let myself chicken out I lean in and press my lips to his, enjoying the tickle of his facial hair. Kissing him feels more natural every time I do it and this time it seems to coax me in a little deeper. Normally, I pull away after a few seconds when the butterflies feel like they’re going to spin me out of control but I don’t feel afraid of that right now. I’d credit the wine but I haven’t had that much and I feel clear headed despite the notes of adventurousness swimming through my bloodstream.

I let the kiss go longer, and so does he; his arm tightening around my middle and - hello!

Hard on. Rager. In. His. Pants.

Don’t freak, Rebecca, play it cool, keep kissing him. It’s just a part of the male anatomy that has extra blood flowing towards it because… because of you, you dirty girl!

That feels empowering and I immediately relax and melt into the kiss a little more. We’ve been going at it a few minutes now and I let my mouth fall open, and oh… fucking hell. His tongue is in my mouth, his hand is threading into my hair, my blood is rushing through my body and it feels so fucking irresistible. A moan escapes my mouth and into his and I can feel my panties start to dampen and my sex kegels in response.

We should stop… We should really, really stop. But I’m moving. My lower body is moving and before I can even debate if I should let this happen when we’re a guest in someone’s backyard, Chris has his big manly drummers hands on my hips and lifts me to completely straddle his lap.

“Fuck…Rebecca,” he rasps against my lips. Oh my God, he’s breathless, for fucks sake. “I’m about to go off in my pants, baby, and that’s not going to be a good look when we get back to the table.”

“Oh,” I tear my mouth away, feeling all sorts of embarrassed and major blue balls. “I’m sorry, we should-,”

“I should slow down, but… I could touch you… if you want…” He’s still panting and his eyes are searching mine, seeking consent and oh fuck would I love to get off right now. Chris’s pheromones are emanating off him, making me drunk on his scent and…

“Yes,” I pant before his lips are on mine again and his strong hand slips against the outside seam of my jeans, the friction of his fingers against the denim between my legs as he keeps his thumb pressing hard in front.

“Ride my hand,” he breathlessly growls as his mouth leaves mine and finds my neck. Oh my god I’ve never been kissed there before, so the newness of Chris’s lips there along with the slick feeling of his tongue lapping at that pulse point and it revs me up even higher, giving my hormones a surge, and just like that, I’m so much closer as I roll my pelvis against his deft hand.

Oh God what Jack and Mayzie must be thinking. I feel like such an asshole, dry humping their friend in their backyard, but right now my vagina can’t seem to care. She’s a selfish bitch in this moment, and I’m a twenty-six year-old virgin who is finally taking a trip to Orgasmville for the first time with a partner that doesn’t require a charging port.

“Come on baby, come on,” Chris urges in my ear, keeping his voice low. The way he’s spurring me on makes my breasts ache, and fuck, with an actual flesh and blood man this is next level. I had not idea the primal intimacy I’d been missing out on all this time.

I feel my orgasm crest and I ride his hand harder, picking up my speed so I can chase it over the hill, shamelessly whimpering into his mouth as I explode against him.