Riana's Cavatina (Sonata of Love Book 2) Page 2

  As Lexi and I stepped from the car Arman gave a shout. “Woah! Nice ride, Riana!” He dropped his rake and jogged over to us. He kissed Lexi’s forehead then pulled me into his side and gave a loving squeeze.

  “Thanks Dad.” Arman stopped being Arman about three months into mine and Lexi’s friendship. I was practically adopted by Lexi’s family. “Seems it’s a ‘congratulations on being a senior’ gift.” My tone left little for him to decipher and he frowned slightly as he squeezed me again.

  ***

  Lexi and I were laying out in the back yard playing fetch with Kona in an attempt to convince ourselves that the current Indian summer would continue. We basked in the sun while we flipped through magazines filled with superficial “interviews” of all the most popular teenage stars. Of course we only cared about the interviews, articles and mini posters of our favorite guys; Derek, Matt, and Alex.

  “Dang, he has lovely lips, doesn’t he?” I mused as I gazed at a particularly suggestive picture of Matthew. Lexi hummed in agreement. “I bet he’s a great kisser.” I added.

  “Among other things I’m sure.”

  I laughed loudly as I swatted Lexi. “Oh my God, Lex, I can’t believe you just said that!”

  “Come on, you know he is. He probably lost his virginity when he was like, fifteen.” She squirted more lotion into her palm before rubbing it into her legs to deepen her tan—not that she needed any help. Add that to the list of things I was envious of.

  “I would have paid money to be the lucky bitch that got that role with him.” I was only partly joking.

  “Probably a groupie.” Lexi offered. “You don’t want to be a groupie, they’re gross.”

  “They didn’t have groupies when Matt was fifteen, he wasn’t even famous until he was almost eighteen.” I quipped.

  “Fine, then he probably lost his virginity when he was seventeen or something. I still maintain that it was likely a groupie, and that groupies are gross.”

  “Even so, if a groupie got to have sex with Matt, yes, I would like to be a groupie.” I laughed.

  Lexi shook her head at me as she flipped through her magazine. I was often amazed at how she was able to take my outlandish fantasies in such stride. “Hey Lex?”

  “Yes dear?” she urged without looking up from an article focused around Derek, Matt, and Alex’s tour antics. I bit my lip for a moment as I debated how silly I’d look bringing this up.

  When I didn’t immediately continue Lexi flipped her magazine down onto her lap and turned to me. “You and Trent…You’ve, I mean, have you…” Ugh, spit it out Ri. “Have you and Trent—“

  “Had sex?” Lexi finished.

  I gave a short laugh and turned my attention to fixing my ponytail. “Yeah.”

  Lexi’s smile was gentle and understanding. “I wanted to tell you, I just didn’t know if, you know, it was something you’d want to talk about.”

  “Given my only prior experience, yeah, that makes sense.” Damn him to burn in hell for ruining me. “When?”

  “Only like a couple months ago. When his parents went on that cruise.” I nodded and bit my lip again. Lexi was practically a sister, I figured it’d be okay to ask. “It was okay, I mean, I wasn’t really sure what to expect but it wasn’t horrible.” I smiled softly as it seemed she read my mind. “It’s gotten better.”

  I laughed lightly. “So it’s a hobby now?”

  “Practice makes perfect, right?” she winked before laughing with me.

  “Brandon’s been hinting none too subtly.”

  “Ri.” Lexi started. I knew that tone. It was the tone of blended concern and authority. “Don’t let him pressure you into something you don’t want to do.”

  “I know.” My voice held much less authority. “We’ve been together for so long though.”

  “And?” Lexi cut in. “There’s no rule that states that after a certain number of weeks, months, years—whatever, that you have to have sex with someone. You know, Trent didn’t ever ask or imply or pressure me at all. It was just something that naturally progressed. I mean, once we were pretty much there he made sure I wanted to, but he never made me feel like I had to.”

  And another thing to add to my envy list.

  “Must be nice.” I sighed as I opened my magazine back up. Lexi left the silence unfilled. A grin tugged at my lips. “So…you think they have applications to be a groupie?”

  ***

  As fall transitioned to winter, my time increasingly became spent at home. Unless one was an avid winter sports enthusiast, which I certainly was not, Minnesota was a wretchedly boring place to be through the months of November to about March. I wasn’t too annoyed by it though, it at least gave me time to sketch and craft. Samantha, my other best friend despite having never actually met, was often online through the winter as well since Canada—where she lived—endured similar winters and she also abhorred winter sports. Sam actually abhorred any season’s sports. Lexi and her family were active in all weather and seasons so my weekends were often spent either in front of my computer screen chatting with Sam or in comfortable solitude.

  I was snuggled into my Papasan chair, burrowed into my favorite velvety throw as I watched D.M.A. host the weekly countdown on Mtv. To my right was a small dish of black and red beads. Matthew had said he liked red on numerous occasions—you know, because that’s what true journalism is—asking a celebrity what their favorite color is. And he always seemed to be alternating endless necklaces so I figured I could make a necklace for him for his upcoming 19th birthday. Lame, right? Oh well, it was mindless busy work as I hid from the plummeting temperatures outside.

  Dear Matt,

  Not to state the obvious, but it must kind of suck to have your birthday so close to Christmas, huh? I can only imagine the endless amounts of “this counts as your birthday AND Christmas present.” I promise to send another package closer to Christmas, I just wanted to be sure that you got this one before your birthday. 19. Dang. Hey! You can legally drink in Canada now.

  I’m sorry that my gift to you is so lame. But y’know, I’ve always felt that a homemade gift always showed more care and thought than just money spent on something that the person could have gotten themselves at a local shop. Eek, it would appear that I’m slightly old-fashioned. Don’t tell anyone, ok, it’ll be our secret.

  Speaking of secrets – Lexi is thinking about breaking up with Trent! I totally didn’t see that one coming, and I’m pretty sure that Trent won’t either. I really feel bad for him. I’m pretty sure he’s in love with Lexi. When I asked her why, she just said that high school isn’t the time to find a life partner. I suppose I can understand, I’m pretty sure I won’t end up with Brandon. Did I tell you that he told me that he’d break up with me if I went to college on the East Coast? Dumb.

  Not that I expect you to answer, but I’m curious – what was the inspiration to the song “Painful Reflections”? It’s freaking beautiful! Dark, and a bit unsettling, but absolutely beautiful. The line of consolidating fate and pain in an illusion of control – seriously Matt, get the hell out of my head! I know we aren’t actually supposed to know about it, and I’m sorry for listening to illegally leaked rough recordings, but I can’t help myself. So, I’m sorry I know about something I’m not supposed to, but I’m not sorry for loving it.

  Okay, well, we know me. If I don’t end this now there’s no way I’ll get it in the mail in time to get to you before the 20th.

  Happy Birthday Matthew. Keep being awesome. XOXO

  Love,

  Riana

  Despite appearances, the holidays always took a tremendous toll on me emotionally. While everyone else spent the holidays surrounded by family, the holidays consistently reminded me of my lack of family. My mother made a big show of the holidays being in public office. We’d have the staff and some press over for a large meal where my mother would give yet another speech about the strength of community. I was expected to be put together well, remain quiet, and smile when appropriate. I
despised it. After the show was over, and the house emptied of our professional visitors, the reality cut even deeper. My mom locked herself in the office with a bottle of gin and I was left to question the point of life.

  I listened for any signs that she’d be coming back out before sneaking back to the formal dining room and taking a bottle of wine for myself. “Fucking cheers.” I grumbled as I uncorked the bottle and skipped the glass all together.

  My phone dinged just as I pulled the bottle from my lips.

  “Ri! Don’t forget DMA is going to be on the Christmas special on NBC!”

  “Yeah right, like I’d forget something like that! I’m on my way downstairs now. WYWH!”

  “I wish I was there too Ri”

  Lexi was one of those that did not suffer through the holidays. Have I mentioned my endless list of reasons to envy my best friend? Yeah? Well, add that to it. I tucked my phone back in my pocket, grabbed a plate of leftovers, my bottle of wine and went to settle in front of the TV to watch my favorite band light up a stage. I never missed a televised appearance. Even if they were only one guest among many, and I only got ten minutes of music or discussion—I needed those small moments.

  I anxiously waited for the announcer to let me know D.M.A. was coming up, and I was munching on a turkey sandwich when they finally graced the screen. Alex had just turned fifteen that October, and while clearly in a bit of an awkward stage, still quite lovely. Derek was fully put together in a three piece suit, and I noticed he had cut his hair pretty short. Not a bad look, Derek. My gaze then fell upon Matthew. Dressed in a simple pair of jeans, a button down shirt and a festive scarf; he was an adorable portrayal of the holidays. As they were talking about the upcoming release of their second album I watched as his hand nonchalantly travelled up and traced along his neck. No, not his neck. A necklace. I forced myself to swallow as I tossed my sandwich back on my plate, dropped off the couch onto my knees and scooted closer to the TV.

  My heart leapt to my throat and I coughed around tears, though I wasn’t sure where they came from—joy? Shock? “No way…” I mumbled. I shook my head and squinted, hoping to see it more clearly. “No way. There is no way…” His hand moved just as the camera zoomed in on him. “Holy shit he’s wearing it!”

  There was no mistaking it. I made that thing by hand, I touched every bead, tied the knots at the end onto the silver screw in clasp. I knew that necklace. Knowing my mom was right upstairs and would hate to be torn from her own private pity party I bit my lip against the squeals that were about to burst through. I bounced up and down as tears streamed down my face.

  Somehow seeing something that had touched my hands around his neck created this sense of possibilities. Everything had seemed so out of reach, almost delusional. But now, things just seemed possible. My trembling hand remained over my mouth as I tried to regain focus on what the guys were saying.

  My phone started to ring from deep within the couch cushion as the show went to commercial and I reached blindly behind me. I couldn’t even say hello before her excited voice squealed through the other end, “Riana!! Did you see it!?”

  “How could I not see it? Do you really think it’s the one I sent?”

  “Of course I do! You know as well as I do that’s the necklace you made him.” Her voice was breathless. “I can’t believe it. Oh my God, Ri, this is awesome.”

  “Yep, pretty sure this moment is the only Christmas gift I need this year.” I laughed lightly. “Shh, it’s coming back on. Call me later!”

  I tossed my phone back on the couch and shuffled back up to only inches away from the television, shaking my head against the disbelief that Matthew Sullivan, in all his beautiful, teenage heart-throb glory, was wearing a lame necklace I made him. As time would pass, the most unbelievable aspect would end up being just how long he actual wore it.

  Movement Two

  Two Years Prior

  I don't even know how Stacy convinced me to go to this party. I was not a party girl—never had been and likely never would be. Not only was I not exactly a party girl, Stacy and I weren’t even that good of friends. Not like me and Lexi. And yet, there I was, struggling to get out of her older brother's car without flashing everyone in Jake's front yard my less than modest panties underneath a skirt I had begged Stacy not to put me in.

  I smiled at Stacy's brother as I thanked him for the ride but my lips felt tight as they fought against the thick layers of deep burgundy lipstick she had painted on. Seriously, how did girls wear this every day? Gross.

  As Stacy and I approached the house the deep beat of the music hit my chest. My heart seemed to struggle against the opposing beats of the latest R&B singer to hit the scene. Add the music choice to the list of things that made this more and more not my scene. I couldn't imagine the music getting any more oppressive, but as the screen door swung open I was proven wrong—my head started to pound from the distorted music and my eyes began to water from the burning smoke of cigarettes and marijuana. Stacy wrapped her cool, petite hand in mine and finished pulling me up the stairs and into the house.

  My eyes flicked anxiously around the room. Most of the people were upperclassmen, juniors, seniors, and of course the town burnouts; the adults who fought desperately to hang on to the “street cred” they had in high school even though they were early twenties now. I snorted, nothing like buying alcohol for minors to prove how cool you are. The socialites of high school played to these young adult men’s insecurities though, flirting just enough to keep them coming back with more liquor. Stacy had been a bit of an “early bloomer” and often caught the attention of upperclassmen though, which is how we got invited. Well, she got invited, she then dragged me along.

  I was absolutely, and awkwardly, out of place.

  “Riana!” A deep voice called out. I squinted towards the kitchen, my eyes watered as they fought to focus past the smoke screen that filled the house.

  Stacy turned to me, her excitement clear as day. “Oh my God, Riana, Dylan is calling for you!”

  Ah, Dylan. Dreamy, popular, jock, and police chief’s son, Dylan McCray. Despite myself I felt my cheeks warm as Stacy pulled me to the kitchen. She released my hand and made a beeline to the keg as Dylan grabbed my upper arm and slyly pushed me up against the wall. “Riana, you’re looking…” he glanced down, and slowly took in my developing teenage body. I was suddenly quite aware of how the crop top sweater pulled too tightly over my chest. “Good.”

  I cleared my throat and looked beyond him, searching for Stacy. “Um, thanks?”

  “You want a drink?” He flashed me a smile, and while it was beautiful, it seemed to spark a sinking feeling within my gut.

  I opened my mouth to politely decline but he was already pulling me by my upper arm to the backyard. “Yo, Jake! Mix up this fine young thing your special.”

  Jake turned his head toward me and Dylan and gave me a once over before giving Dylan a short nod. My stomach started to flip and I began to search again for Stacy. I really should have just gone camping with Lexi and her family.

  I had known Dylan for a few years though, he was always at city events with his dad once his dad was given the promotion to Chief of Police. My mom always made me tag along as well, saying that it wouldn’t look good for her administration if the mayor’s only daughter wasn’t at every single event. Each event became more painful than the last, I was almost positive I could recite my mother’s speeches without even trying. So, you know, the point was that it wasn’t like it was some strange guy getting me a drink, it was Dylan.

  I thanked him as he handed me my cup and found myself wanting to look anywhere but at him. I lifted the cup to my lips and was quickly overwhelmed by the burning sensation through my sinuses as I took a short breath through my nose before opening my lips to the mixed drink. My nose curled up and I fought to swallow the burning liquid. I gave a short cough and Dylan laughed. I snapped my head towards him and narrowed my eyes.

  “I could, um, get you something a little weaker?
”

  I couldn’t tell if he was being genuine or if he was making fun of my sensitivity to such harsh liquor.

  “Come on Ri.” He said with another chuckle as he draped his muscular arm over my shoulder.

  True to his word, Dylan got me a less oppressive drink, and another—after about three drinks they all seemed to blur together. I had long since forgotten about my quest of finding Stacy to save me from Dylan’s relentless pressuring for me to drink. I was leaned up against the kitchen counter as Dylan was threading his fingers through my hair.

  I looked up at him, then bit my lip against a fit of laughter.

  “What?”

  The laughter burst out of me, “Oh my God, Dylan, can you imagine what my mom would say if she saw me like this?”

  Dylan’s lip curled in amusement. “Like what?”

  “Like what?” I echoed. “Like, fucking wasted!” My mother would be furious. How irresponsible could I be? Fourteen and drunk. Well, almost fifteen, but still—I’d be grounded for life.

  He gave a small laugh. “Yeah, my dad too.”

  I doubted that his dad’s reaction would be anywhere near my mom’s. Dylan was three years older than I was, and while that was still four years from being of legal age to drink, it was more expected of a seventeen year old to be underage drinking than a fourteen year old. In fact, the realization forced me to pause for a moment and wonder why exactly I was so drunk. Unlike me would be an understatement.

  As I attempted to sort out my thoughts against the spinning of the room I noticed that Dylan’s hands had drifted from my hair to my hips and he pulled me closer to him as his face neared mine. Holy hell, he’s going to kiss me.