I love this baby. Here's some snippets so you love it, too!
SNEAK PEEK! Shhhhhh....
Just kidding. Tell everyone
"You should see this chick, Alec. Dark, dark hair. Her eyes are huge. She's like a tiny doll in six inch heels, and her voice—"
I nearly choked on my coffee. My hand jerked so violently I spilled half the crap in my cup down the front of my bare chest as I swung toward him. "What about her voice?" I growled, ignoring the pain.
"She sings like an angel."
I swore. Again. "Hang on." I shoved past him, slamming my cup down on the counter as I went. I snatched a towel off the oven and wiped scalding coffee off my chest before I dropped it into the hamper in my room. I wished I didn't know exactly where that picture was. I wished I hadn't looked at it just yesterday. But I did, and now I snatched it out of the bedside table drawer and stormed back in to Bryson. "Is this her?"
He took the picture, looking at me before he turned his attention to it. "Yeah. This is her." He handed it back to me. "Why do you have a picture of the love of my life?"
I snarled, jerking it out of his hands. "Because she was the love of my life, once. When I was young and stupid."
"No way. Are you serious? Are you gonna have a problem with this? Because I can find a new apartment..."
I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck and searching for inner peace. "No. I don't care about her anymore. Go ahead."
He peered at me and I decided he must definitely be drunk. "You sure?"
He gave me a lopsided grin. I'd seen girls swoon over that smile, but it just made him look half-paralyzed to me—I didn't have a clue what girls saw in it. "So, you knew who she was from her singing? Does that mean she used to sing when you were together?"
His words hit me hard and pulled me back to when I'd drive her anywhere or everywhere because she absolutely did not want to learn to drive, and she would sing to every song on the radio. It pulled me back to all the times I'd gone with her to competitions and performances and watched her rock the stage like she owned the world. But my favorite, the memories that hurt the most, where of her sitting on my bed, rubbing my shoulders after football practice, singing nursery rhymes under her breath. "Yeah. She sang when I knew her." She was my own personal angel.