Page 7 of Warrior

“I can cover half,” I tell him, reaching for the spare cash floating in my purse.

“Lyric,” he says my name and it sounds like a warning. “Don’t even think about it. I got it.”

I slide my hand out of my purse and sit quietly waiting while he throws down some cash. He stands and offers his hand to me. Mine slides into his as if it was always meant to be there, and I follow him out to the truck. We drive farther into town and pull off the main road and find a parking spot. This time I jump out before he can open the door and skip up to the front of the building. Addy’s Malt Shop is a local gem. They serve twenty different flavors of ice cream on any given day, and during holidays, she always makes a special new recipe. It’s never the same twice and that’s part of the charm.

“Hi, Lyric,” Addy calls to me from the register and I wave. I see her do a double take when her eyes land on Colt, only to find our usual trail of friends aren’t with us. A knowing look passes over her eyes. “Hi, Colt! That was some game last night,” she says, while walking over to us.

His head dips and he flashes her a full smile. “Thanks, Add. Glad you and Jeff could make it.”

“We never miss a Wolverine game,” she tells him. “The usual for you two?”

We both nod as we make our way through the line, watching Addy’s magic as she smashes and rolls our ice cream into pretty masterpieces. In no time, she hands me my sundae, beforehanding Colt his waffle cone. This time I get my money out before him and pay. Colt frowns at me and I laugh. “I can treat you, too. Come on.” I gently tug his shirt sleeve, motioning for him to follow me out the door before he gets a crazy idea to argue with me. Addy waves goodbye to us as we head back out the door.

We walk in comfortable silence, eating our treats, and follow the lighted path into the park. I lead Colt to my favorite red bench under my favorite maple tree, the one with the brightest colored leaves this time of year. The sun is almost completely set by now, yet the twinkle lights strung up throughout the park cast a warm, yellow glow. September weather is still pretty warm, with lows in the mid-sixties. With Colt’s body right next to mine, I can’t suppress a shiver.

“Maybe we can see that movie next weekend?” He turns to me.

“I’d like that,” I tell him, smiling.

“I’m sorry we didn’t make it tonight,” he says, before taking another bite of his cone.

“It’s okay.” I shrug. “This is pretty great too.”

“Always looking on the bright side, Taylor,” he says, bumping his shoulder with mine.

We eat again in silence. My stomach starts to dip and swirl when I notice only a few bites remain in my cup. Our date is coming to an end. Disappointment flows in my veins and for some stupid reason, my eyes prick with tears. I don’t understand it. I only know I wish this moment could last forever.

We stand at the same time while I dump my bowl in the trash can nearby. I can’t bring my eyes to look at Colt. I’m overwhelmed with nerves, not sure how to end this date, while also being ready to cry that it is over. Instead of talking, I take a step to move around him in the direction we came from.

“Lyric?” My name on his tongue sends my heart soaring, while the warmth from his fingers sinks into my skin where they are wrapped around my wrist, pulling me to a stop. My feet shuffle until we’re standing chest to chest. I feel his intake of breath when our eyes finally meet.

My head tilts in question, then words die in my mouth. One second Colt’s staring at me like I’m his world and the next his large hands are cupping my face before his lips crush against mine. Kissing him is nothing like I thought it would be. It’s way more, and a thousand times better. I can taste the strawberry from his ice cream on his lips, which are still chilled, while they glide against mine. I breathe in his intoxicating smell of citrus, spice and fresh air, before moving closer into him.

I’ve never been kissed, but suddenly I know what everyone is talking about. Why some people would trade their lives for one more kiss; why others would complete impossible tasks; why songwriters would dedicate whole ballads to commemorate it. I swear there’s a pause in the beat of my heart while my brain screams his name. My blood rushes to my head and every sense I possess goes into overdrive. By the time Colt pulls his lips from mine, I know I’m changed. I know my heart, my soul, and my mind will never be the same again.

Chapter 3

Lyric, age 17

My pulse thumps in my ears the faster I push my legs. I’m late. Colt and I were supposed to meet up twenty minutes ago, but my boss needed extra help at the flower shop. I couldn’t tell her no, as tomorrow is another busy Saturday for weddings. “Crap,” I mutter to myself again after looking at my phone. I’m officially twenty-two minutes late.

Tearing down the sidewalk, I’m thankful at least it is late enough that it isn’t congested with people. Today is our one-year dating anniversary. Three hundred and sixty-five days have passed since Colt gave me my first kiss then asked me to be his girlfriend. It had been his idea to meet up at our bench, the same one we sat at on our first date with our ice cream. I want to kick myself for almost ruining what should be a romantic moment. I did text him saying I’d be late, but I never heard back from him. I hope he isn’t mad. Colt and I barely ever fight. Our biggest argument was after he gave Jackson Pruitt a black eye for grabbing my butt at a party. I didn’t like the grab, but the last thing Colt needed was to get in trouble for fighting or worse, for the football coach to find out.

Colt is making a name for himself as the Wolverine’s youngest team captain. Despite being a junior, everyone on the team looks up to him and thrives under his leadership. He is versatile and can play both sides of the ball. He is already sitting at over one thousand rushing yards to go with his ten touchdowns, 250 receiving yards in seventeen passes, and he also has fifty tackles. His coach and several bigwigs in the community are already saying it is only a matter of time before colleges start scouting him seriously. Everyone is talking about Colt having an NFL career. Of course this only makes Colt work harder. He wants to play at Alabama then on a pro team. He’d never say it out loud, fear of what his dad thinks stands in his way of voicing what he wants; plus, he is beyond modest. He is the guy who is always first to praise his teammate or jump in to offer help when someone’s struggling. He accepts praise with a slight head nod and a practiced smile. No one but me, and maybe his best friend Zane, know how much Colt hates the hero worship. He shows up each week to play his favorite game and if that leads to an NFL career, then he’ll cross that bridge when, and if, he gets there.

Colt treats every part of his life with the same optimism as he does the game of football. When we disagree, he is the first to try and look at it from my perspective, which often humbles me and forces me to open up to him. After our first date, Colt and I became even more inseparable. It helped that we started out as friends and had the same friend group, so no one felt like we were leaving them out. It just became a thing that we arrived together and left together, holding hands and often sharing some PDA. I still get butterflies every time I see him, and each time we kiss and go maybe a little too far in the back of his blue pickup, I only fall for him more. He’s my addiction. The one person I think of before I drift off to sleep and whose face I want to see when I wake up in the morning.

By the time my feet hit the paved walkway, beads of perspiration are forming on my forehead, and my cheeks have been kissed with windburn. My neck is damp with sweat while my eyes swing around, trying to catch a glimpse of him. When our bench comes into view, my smile falls instantly. He isn’t waiting like I expected.

“Shit,” I mumble, taking my phone out of my jacket pocket and dialing his number. Of course it goes right to voicemail, so I shoot him a text message next. My heart drops to my stomach. It’s our anniversary and I stood him up. My body turns in a circle and I crank my head down other paths to see if he’s just walking around. The wind kicks up, instantly brushing my exposed skin with goosebumps. Shivering, I shove my hands in my pockets, then kick a nearby rock in pure frustration.

“I’m sorry, Colt,” I whisper into the air, wishing he could hear me, wishing he was standing with me. Tears burn my eyes and nose, causing me to sniffle.

“You know, it’s a good thing I’m a patient man.” His voice jars me into action. My body jerks around as he steps out from behind the large maple tree.

“You were here the entire time?” I ask, my brow quirking. I try to give him an irritated look but can’t. I’m just so happy he didn’t leave.

Colt watches me, his eyes sliding from my messy ponytail to the work uniform I still have on, since I ran right here instead of heading home to change. I fidget under the intensity of his gaze. It’s new, the way he’s looking at me, and it makes my stomach stir with emotions I can’t quite place. My skin heats, and my mouth suddenly forgets how to make words. “Come here. I want to show you something.” He motions for me to take his hand. I easily slide my chilled fingers into his warm grip. Colt leads me over the curb and behind the bench. I glance over my shoulder,making sure no one else is around, before following Colt around the maple tree.

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