From the Heart: A Valentine's Day Anthology Read online

  “Emily?” I heard Rebekah’s voice. “What are you doing out here? I thought you said that you needed to use the bathroom?”

  I shook my head and turned away from her, swiping my hands beneath my eyes while trying to take deep breaths and pretend that I was okay. That everything was okay. That over the past few weeks I hadn’t made the worst mistake of my whole life.

  “Hey!” she placed her hand on my shoulder. “Are you crying?”

  I shook my head, harder this time, but I knew that I wasn’t going to be able to fool her.

  “That girl they’re talking about in there?” I said, my voice strained. “It was me. They’re talking about me.”

  Everything was fine until we came here. I didn’t want to come, but Rebekah insisted.

  As soon as we walked inside Burger Palace, the only thing I could see was him, and the only conversation I could hear was the one he and Matt were having. They were talking about what happened last Friday night. I hurt him, even more than I hurt myself.

  “He replied that night, the same day he didn’t reply? Do you remember? We were in the cafeteria and you sent him that message, but he didn’t reply. Only, he did reply. And I replied back.”

  “What?” her eyes were wide. “You mean you … you and Tyler? You were the one who had sex with Tyler?”

  I nodded, because it was the only thing I could do.

  “Emily, I had no idea,” she sounded upset, but I didn’t blame her. Best friends were supposed to tell each other everything, but I kept it from her. I lied to her, just like I lied to him, just like I lied to myself. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I don’t know,” I shrugged. “It’s such a mess because, before any of this, I didn’t know what I was missing, but now I do. And it h-h-urts. I felt so much that night when I was with him and I’m never going to be able to have that again, am I?”

  “Emily, don’t cry,” Rebekah whispered, rubbing her hand up and down my back, trying to comfort me. “It’ll be okay. If it helps in any way, he likes you. In fact, the way he’s acting back there, I think it’s safe to say that he more than likes you.”

  “No. He doesn’t. Don’t you see? He likes the thought of me. He likes Sofia! But in reality, to him, I’m just Emmy. I will always be just Emmy!” I screamed as I turned around to face her, then instantly froze when I saw Tyler standing directly behind her.

  “It was you?” he asked, his voice flat and his expression unreadable. I stood there, staring at him, not able to speak even a single word. “You’re Sofia?”

  CHAPTER 8

  “Come on,” Rebekah encouraged, taking my hand in hers. “We don’t have to stay for long.”

  I was hoping she was going to say that. The last place I wanted to be was in a room full of loved up couples. I wanted to be at home, crying into my pillow and dwelling over would could have been, not listening to Adele on a constant cycle while having to watch everybody else having a good time.

  “Can we not just go now?” I tried to plead with her, but it was no use. She wanted to be here. Rebekah had been and always would be the life and soul of any party.

  “Here, drink this,” she said, passing me a paper cup. “It’ll make you feel better.”

  I accepted it from her and took a sip, instantly wishing I hadn’t.

  “What is this?” I grimaced, wiping my mouth and hoping the taste would somehow go away.

  “It’s supposed to be non-alcoholic fruit punch,” she answered, then pointed to her purse. “I just so happen to have something in here that takes away the non-part.” She giggled, the sound of her laughter making me feel more at ease. “So, come on. Tell me. How are you doing?”

  “Not great,” I admitted.

  It had been a long week to say the least. The moment Tyler walked away from me when he overheard me and Rebekah talking outside Burger Palace was one of the worst of my life. He didn’t even give me a chance to explain why I did what I did. But the more I thought about it as the week progressed, I didn’t know if I even had any type of explanation to offer him.

  I tricked him, and he hated me for it.

  “Does Matt know yet?”

  I shook my head.

  “No,” I answered her. “I don’t think it’s something Tyler would want getting around, do you?”

  “I feel like I should be the one to blame for this,” she said. “It was my idea to begin with.”

  “But I acted on it. This is all on me.”

  “Don’t look now,” she said, placing her arm around my shoulders and turning me the other way.

  I glanced over my shoulder to see what she was talking about. It was something I always did. If somebody told me to not look, I always looked—and I really wished that I hadn’t.

  “I didn’t think he would show up,” Rebekah whispered, concern filtering inside her eyes. “I’m so sorry. Listen, let’s go. You were right. This wasn’t a good idea.”

  “No,” I told her. “It’s fine. Really.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive,” I tried to reassure her. “I’m just going to go and use the bathroom.”

  She nodded at me and went to grab herself another drink from the refreshment table as I squeezed by her, needing just a couple of minutes alone to calm myself down.

  Just as I reached the end of the hallway, Tyler stepped around the corner, his gaze boring directly into mine.

  “Tyler, I—”

  “Shut up,” he interrupted me. “Just shut up.”

  The next thing I knew; he was kissing me. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me tight against him, plunging his tongue inside mouth while I raked my fingers through his hair and kissed him back.

  “What the fuck?”

  Those words.

  That voice.

  We immediately jumped apart and that’s when I saw Matt standing to the side of us, his eyes bulging wide and his jaw clenched together tight.

  I glanced to Tyler, then back to Matt.

  “I’ll say it again, just so we’re clear,” my brother grinded out. “What. The. Fuck.”

  “Emily?” Tyler grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the exit doors. “I think we should maybe just …” He didn’t finish what he was going to say, he didn’t need to. My brother was still standing in the hallway, staring at the wall now. I think he just needed some time alone so he could come to terms with what he just saw.

  Tyler led me by the hand until we were outside, then took a seat on the bottom step, pulling me down onto his lap. He wrapped his left arm around me and used his right to brush my hair away from my face.

  “Can I apologize now?” I asked.

  He shook his head and reached inside his jacket pocket, pulling out his cell.

  He winced and glanced up at me.

  “Who is it?”

  “Your brother.”

  “Don’t answer it,” I told him, shaking my head, horrified. I knew what would happen if he answered his cell. “I really don’t think answering it is such a good idea.”

  He held his index finger up at me and listened intently to the voice on the other end of the line.

  “Hey Matt …” he spoke and there was a pause, like he was listening to whatever it was that was being said in reply. “Oh, you’re not happy about that, huh?” he looked back to me and smirked. “Well, just so you know, I’m about to do it again.” He ended the call and cocked his head to the side, a quizzical look in his eyes.

  “What?”

  “Isn’t there something you wanted to ask me?” he asked, his lips curling up at the sides. Was there something? I don’t think there was. He pulled me closer and whispered in my ear. “This is the part where you ask me to be your date for the dance.” He chuckled.

  “It is?” I asked, making him laugh even harder. “Tyler? Would you be my date for the dance?”

  “Your brother is so gonna kick my ass on Monday morning,” he said as he lifted me up, only placing me back down on my feet as we reached the top step. He twirled me back
around until I was facing him again. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Emily.”

  “Happy Valentine’s Day, Tyler.”

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Sarah Elizabeth is a British author who writes in the Romantic Suspense, New Adult, and Contemporary Romance genres. She lives and breathes for all things books, be it writing them, reading them, and sometimes even stroking them!

  Her main influences are Rachael Wade, Jennifer Probst and Tina Reber.

  She is a major fan of music with very eclectic taste, listening to Delta Goodrem through to Fightstar, Dvicio through to 3 Doors Down.

  Sarah thrives to add mystery to the romance in all of her projects, spending many evenings and late nights when her four young children are tucked up in bed to let the words pour onto the pages and the characters inside her mind completely take over. She has an extreme fondness of wine and beer, and has a big phobia of deadlines, meaning she never actually sticks to many, if any of them.

  Fly Away

  A short story

  By

  Laura Morgan

  Copyright 2016 © Laura Morgan

  Licence Notes

  This story is licenced for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this story with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this story and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please destroy it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All song lyrics used in this short story are the creation of the author and have neither been influenced nor copied from any other songs. They are copyright protected and must not be taken and used in any other form without consent of the author.

  PLEASE NOTE

  This story depicts explicit sexual relationships between consenting adults. It is not suitable for those under the age of 18.

  Some people spend their entire lives looking for their soulmate, while others can happen upon them when they least expect it. When two people connect and become one, there’s no turning back, no matter how right or wrong it feels. Be it via the touch of a hand, or in the meeting of eyes, true love is a force to be reckoned with. When it happens, they’d better be ready for the world to change profoundly…

  ***

  Aria stood and looked out over the rooftops. The world was huge, and she felt lost in the vastness. Her husband was inside enjoying the exclusive party he’d brought her to, but she was utterly alone. Today was Aria’s birthday, and yet she felt no joy. Happiness felt like it’d given up on trying to find her, regardless of the good she still believed might be out there. Nothing seemed right, no matter how hard she tried to convince herself she was doing fine, or that things might soon change for the better.

  Regardless of her pain, she wouldn’t let herself cry. Aria took a deep breath and strengthened her resolve, but she still trembled despite the warm summer breeze. Her lavishly bejewelled maxi-dress hung heavy on her shoulders, along with everything else she already carried.

  Aria sighed. Her emotions were getting the better of her again, and she hated it. As her thoughts haunted her, tears prickled at her eyes, and she had to force them away. Crying was reserved only for the most extremes of times—like when her grandfather had died a year ago, or when she’d miscarried her baby six months before. She cried when tears were the only thing she felt she had left to give to the world, and now was not that time.

  She stepped up onto the ledge and looked down at the world rushing by below. Aria had no idea how high she was, but guessed a jump from this height would be fatal. After a long time, she stopped staring at the ground. Instead, she gazed across the landscape of buildings that dotted the dark horizon, and looked up into the sky thoughtfully. No matter what, nothing would keep her from fighting, and she climbed back down.

  “Chicken,” Aria mumbled to herself, and she wrapped her arms around her body tightly. She stepped away, backing up until she leaned against a wall on the far side of the terrace, where she slumped and continued to stare out at the sky. From the shadows, she then watched as the door to the rooftop courtyard opened and someone joined her on the moonlit patio. It was a man. He closed the door and locked it shut behind him, sealing them out of the raucous party below. Aria’s heart pounded in her chest, fear creeping up her spine, and she observed him in absolute silence. She chose to remain hidden in case she had something to be scared of, but was quickly assured that he was only a danger to himself and not her.

  “No, no, NO!” the man called out into the world, his words seemingly aimed at no one in particular, but everyone. She watched in fascination as he climbed up onto the same ledge she too had just stood, and stared down at the ground below. “I can’t do this. I can’t be this person any longer,” he continued, swaying slightly, but he didn’t seem drunk. “I don’t want to live a lie anymore. This isn’t what I signed up for.”

  Aria was frozen, mesmerised by him, and she saw in him her own pain and suffering mirrored back at her. “Go to hell, all of you!” he then shouted out at the city around them, and kicked a beer can that lay empty on the wall beside him, watching as it plummeted and rattled seconds later on the cold ground below.

  Aria stepped out from within her shadowed solace, and peered up at the lost and angry man.

  “Don’t do it,” she whispered softly, reaching up her hand to offer him some support—whether he wanted it or not. She couldn’t let him fall, no matter how scared she’d been to reveal herself. There was no way she could walk away and let him do something foolish, so she found her strength and stepped closer. Oddly, she didn’t feel afraid any longer, only desperate to save a fellow, lost, kindred spirit.

  “What’re you doing here?” he demanded, shaking his head and rubbing at his eyes in an attempt to hide his tears.

  “You invaded my moment of self-loathing,” she told him matter-of-factly. “I was just standing exactly where you are, looking out at the world, and hating everything in it.” He seemed surprised.

  “But you didn’t jump?” the man asked.

  “No, because even as I stood there I knew I didn’t want to die,” she replied, smiling up at him in the moonlight. He twisted around and stared right back at her, and his beauty took her aback. He had a young face, but his eyes showed his age, and right now they were full of so much pain she wanted to weep for him. His dark hair was swept back from his face in a stylish quiff, and she could tell without asking that all of his clothes were made by expensive designers—like hers. He seemed to be fighting the same gilded cage she was, and Aria felt connected to him, but not by money or class. She knew his pain and felt his torment as though it were her own. Their souls seemed bonded on a deeper level, and she needed him to keep on breathing, otherwise she was somehow sure she wouldn’t be able to carry on either.

  “Then you’re lucky, because I don’t know whether I want one or the other,” he whispered in response, and his voice was gravelly with his suppressed emotion. “My whole life is a joke. A fake, horrid joke, and I’m just waiting for it to screw me over. None of this is real, so how can I feel like I’m still real?” He turned his frail gaze on her again, and she had to force herself not to cry for him.

  “You need to hold on to something that keeps you grounded. If you don’t already have it, then go out there and find it.”

  After watching her for a few seconds, the man finally took Aria’s offered hand and climbed down, and he didn’t take his eyes off her the whole time.

  “What’s yours?” he asked. “The thing that keeps you grounded?” She got the feeling he truly was as lost as he’d said, and hoped her honesty might help the man realise there were others out there exactly like him, and in fact one was standing opposite
him.

  “I’m still looking for what’ll keep me from throwing it all away, but until then I’ll just stand on rooftops and dream.”

  “Dream of what?” His insistence was intense, but it empowered her, whereas normally she’d shy away.

  “Not of death. That’s a cruel and miserable burden I cannot bear to bring on myself. I dream of…” she paused, feeling foolish, but his pleading look spurred her on. “I dream of growing wings and just flying away. I look out at the world and want to see it all in its real beauty, not the fake version I’ve been forced to endure for far too long. I want to feel the sun on my face and the wind at my back, and not to be beholden to anyone.” She felt her cheeks blush. Aria had never told anyone that, ever.

  “I don’t want to be locked in a cage any more either,” he mumbled, and looked up at the stars overhead. “Maybe we can both fly away?” he added, and Aria laughed.

  “Maybe,” she agreed with a sigh.

  The pair of misfits sat down on the hard floor, their backs to the small wall they’d both been standing on, and talked for a while. Each of them opened up for the first time ever about how lost and alone they felt, and Aria felt good sharing some of her secrets. The experience was surreal. It was freeing to reveal all to someone, albeit a complete stranger, but at the same time it felt right.

  The man, who Aria had soon found out was called Dexter, was a singer in a popular boy-band called Another Way. He told her how he and his band mates had been offered a contract with Aria’s husband’s agency the year before, only to then be stripped of their instruments and leather jackets when they’d accepted. Middle-aged songwriters that apparently knew the market trends better than they did, replaced their rock inspired tracks with soppy love songs. Their indie-vibe and emo branding was remodelled, and their ripped jeans were replaced with designer gear.

  “What I’d give to be on stage with just an acoustic guitar and my mic. Anyone could do my job. None of what I do is about talent.”