Music had always gotten Sarabeth through the struggles of her life. When she sat behind a piano, it was her at her purest form. Too many tragedies caused the once overused piano keys to collect dust. She was no longer the singing canary that her father always called her.
Sarabeth didn’t know if she would ever be able to use her voice again, but then came Logan, who sat next to her in their English seminar; the cocky guy with his own fair share of tragedies that he was trying to run away from.
Can these two help each other break free of the scars that imprisoned them, or would they end up like Romeo and Juliet?
“I don’t like when people think I’m weaker or dumber than them.” I placed my pizza down. I looked down because I felt embarrassed by my next statement. I didn’t know why I felt safe saying this to him. “I watched my mom get so used to a man. She never was able to stand on her own two feet. It’s nice to have a partner in crime, but she relied too much on my father.” I tried to keep my anger to a minimum because this was our second conversation. I didn’t want to give him too much of the wrong impression.
“I’m assuming your father left your mother,” he said.
“No, he actually died a little over three years ago,” I answered.
I felt his hand on mine. I turned to look at him. There was a softness in his eyes, and I thought this was the true beauty of Logan’s spirit. “It’s fine.” I didn’t realize that I was crying. I wiped my tear. “Sorry,” I apologized.
I looked away from him. “It’s okay,” he began. “I know what it’s like to be disappointed by your parents. You honestly think they are your heroes, but then you realize they’re your worst nightmare,” he confessed.
I didn’t know why that made me connect with him more. I felt like I haven’t had anyone to talk to about this. It was actually lovely. My mom wanted me to see a therapist after my dad’s death, but the therapist didn’t understand my pain. She could help me cope with death, but she couldn’t tell me how I’m supposed to get used to seeing my mother in a negative light.
I thought she was this strong woman that could, and the last three years, she had turned into someone that I was slightly ashamed of. She pushed me towards Jackson because, god forbid, I was firm on my own.
“I feel like they put the worst attributes of themselves in us,” I added.
He chuckled. I turned to look at him. He looked at me with a smirk. “We don’t know each other, and we’re talking about our problems already.”
“Terrible first date,” I admitted. I regretted it the moment it left my lips. “I mean, obviously, this isn’t a first date. We just met each other, and you saved me from another guy getting handsy –“
He cut my rambling off when he leaned forward and captured my lips with his. When I tell you that I had never had a kiss like this, I mean that with every fiber of my body.
I placed my hand on the side of his face as I deepened the kiss. I didn’t realize how much my soul craved this sensation with him.
He broke the kiss, and I was worried that I had done something wrong. He looked at me with a smile. “As much as I would love to continue this, we’re on the ledge of a rooftop, and you’ve been drinking. I don’t want our first time to be deadly slash trashy.”
“You’re right.” I blushed and looked away.
I felt his lips on my ear. “Plus, I want to take you on a proper first date.” His statement sent shivers down my spine. I didn’t know if it was the rush of new love or the exhilaration of someone actually finding me worthy of romancing me.
I felt the wall come up because I was already giving him some power. He was causing me to be in a good mood, and I didn’t like that he was the one causing this state of my emotions instead of myself. I got off the ledge of the rooftop. “I’ll be waiting for a proper invitation for our first date,” I stated. I leaned forward and gave him a chaste kiss. I walked away from him because I wanted to keep the majesty of this night in my head forever. I touched my lips as I walked down the stairs and closed my eyes. I was conflicted because I loved having someone find me attractive, but the other side hated that about me. I thought of Logan and I’s conversation. Was this the worst attribute I inherited from my mother?Playlist by Zachary Ryan