Page 39 of The Heart That Breaks
“Has a good ring to it,” Matt says.
“Wild Getaway it is,” Nathan says with a grin.
I glance at the clock on the wall. It’s five forty-five. My heart leaps in my chest, and reality comes crashing back in. “I have to get home,” I say, trying not to panic at the thought of Lance beating us there.
“I’m on it,” Nathan says, getting up and putting his guitar in its case.
“I gotta go, too,” Matt adds. He grabs his backpack and heads for the door. “See you two at school tomorrow.”
“See ya, Matt,” Nathan says.
“Bye,” I call out, reaching for my own backpack and looking at Nathan, anxious now. “I really have to go.”
“Can I just say one thing?” he asks, putting a hand on my arm.
I meet his gaze, wishing we didn’t have to go yet, but knowing I’m already pushing it on getting home. “Sure,” I say.
“I really want this to work.”
“Me too,” I say, and I can’t deny that I really do.
“Your voice is crazy good,” he says.
“It’s not polished. I have a lot to learn.”
“You’ve got the part that has to be a gift. We can all work hard to get better, but surely you know what kind of voice you’ve got. I mean, you’re like Carrie Underwood good.”
I smile and shake my head. “Now I think you’re stretching it.”
“I’m not,” he says, dead serious.
“I’m glad you think so, but you and Matt are a lot to live up to.”
“We’re gonna make a great band,” he says.
Hearing him say that makes me realize just how much I want this, how much I want to belong to something meaningful, something that has some place to go.
I think about my mom and instantly feel guilty. I know she’s tried to give me things she never had, and maybe I shouldn’t want more. I don’t want it in place of her though. I’d love to be the one to give her more.
“Thank you, Nathan. For asking me. For giving me an opportunity to be a part of this.”
He looks at me for several long seconds, and I can see that he’s struggling with whether or not to say what he wants to say. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and husky. “It doesn’t stand a chance of being much without you, Ann-Elizabeth.”
“I’m not sure I agree with that,” I say.
He reaches out then, touches the back of his hand to my face. “Do you have any idea how much I want to kiss you?”
I try to force words up from my throat, but they won’t come, and I can only stare at him, caught in a web of want and need like nothing I’ve ever felt.
He takes my non-answer as the answer it is, leaning in and softly brushing his lips across mine. My entire body comes alive, as if for the very first time. My eyes slide closed, and I bend toward him, like a newly planted tree to the sun.
His arms slip around my waist, and he pulls me up close against him. I slide my hands up his chest, pressing them to his shoulders and holding on the way I would on an amusement park ride that I know is going to take me somewhere I’ve never been.
I’ve never been kissed before, and I wonder if he can tell, if I seem inept and inexperienced. But he tightens his hold on me and deepens the kiss, and I don’t feel anything from him except that he wants more. I want to give it to him, and I hold onto him as if not doing so means blowing away in a strong gust of wind.
The very last thing in the world I want to do is remind him that I have to get home, but I do have to, and so I pull back, reluctant, my voice not even recognizable to me as I say, “I have to go.”
“I know,” he says, on what sounds like a groan of reluctance. And I love feeling wanted like this, wishing we could explore it more, afraid that letting it go now will mean never knowing it again.
