Page 13 of Heart Beats

maria

“Oh my God, you did it. You banged Jagger!” Mya’s voice is so loud, I have to hold the phone out as far as my arm allows.

I wait until I’m sure my sister is done screeching before bringing the phone back to my face. “I didn’t say that.”

“You said he stayed over, which I already knew because I drove by your house twice last night to see if his rental car was still there. One of those times it was after eleven and your house was totally dark. Personally, I would’ve wanted the lights on while banging a tatted-up hottie, but you do you. Or, should I say, you did him!”

“I should’ve let your call go to voicemail,” I say, moving to the full-length mirror in my bedroom. Looking over my shoulder, I gather my sundress up in my hands, then pull down my panties. My ass has lost its pink glow, but I swear it still feels warm.

Nobody has put me over their knee and spanked me like that. None of the men I’ve dated have suggested it, nor did they inspire me to ask for it. Marshall inspires all kinds of desires. He also seems more than happy to indulge them.

I’ve spent most of my life wishing I could be flirty and coy with men, instead of literal and blunt. Most men seem to prefer teasing and games. Marshall doesn’t seem to mind the way I communicate. I’m sure his love of my “candidness” will wane once he realizes I don’t have another mode. Right now, I’m a novelty. A well-sexed, thoroughly satisfied novelty. I can live with that.

“I guess you’re not mad that I gave him your address,” Mya says, pulling me back to our phone conversation.

“Or I’ve already forgiven you.”

“Forgiven me? You banged a freaking rock star! You owe me, girl.” Another maximum-energy whoop blasts my eardrum. “Seriously, though. He was really nice while he was at my store, which is practically empty, by the way. It didn’t seem like an act. I mean, he’s a showman, for sure, but I got the sense that he’s not a total phony. Like there’s a genuine, nice guy just below the rock star veneer.”

“You’re right, he’s genuinely nice. Very likable.”

“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to tell me?” Mya asks after several silent beats. “Aren’t you going to tell meanythingabout last night?”

Part of me wants to share my experiences with her. Mya is the closest thing I have to a best friend, and the only person I trust completely. But my time with Marshall was so intimate… I want to keep it for myself.

“He wrote me a song.” I can’tnottell her this. “He played it for me on my piano.”

“He wrote you a song? Like, already? That’s kind of… wow. But still,that’swhat you did? You had a hella-hot rock star who’s totally into you all to yourself, and the two of you hung out at the piano?”

“Yes, we enjoyed our time at the piano.” Oh, did we enjoy it. I’ll be thinking about fucking Marshall on that piano bench every time I sit there, for the rest of my life. Good thing Mya can’t see me, because my smile would definitely give me away.

“You’re hiding something,” she says. “Just tell me you’re holding back filthy good stuff, and I’ll stop prying. For now.”

“I’m holding back filthy good stuff.”

“You brat! Tellmeeeee!”

I laugh openly while flopping on the bed. I press my face to the pillow where Marshall slept after we sexed ourselves into unconsciousness. His scent is still there, and I inhale until my senses are full.

“Oh my God, I just heard you make a dreamy sigh. Younevermake that sound. The sex was that good?”

“It was, but… never mind.”

“But never mind?Are you kidding? Girl, you’re spilling that tea right now. Spill. It. If you don’t, I’ll be banging on your door in five minutes.”

“People need to stop showing up at my door without an invitation or appointment. It’s rude and invasive.”

She clucks her tongue, and I can practically see her standing with her hand on her hip. “You don’t seem to mind that Jaggerinvadedyou, Miss Dreamy Sigh Girl.”

“His name is actually Marshall. When his agent discovered him on YouTube, he was Marshall Jagerman. They told him it was too soft and not a marketable name for a rock star, and had him change it to Jagger Marsh.”

“Yeah, I think I remember reading that in an article years and years ago. Some teeny-bopper music magazine, back in high school. I assumed he left his former name behind and just went by Jagger now. Did he tell you to use his real name?”

“Yes.”Right before he made me come.

“That’s a big deal.”

“How big, do you think?” I’ve never beenthatgirl. The one who gets swept up in a ridiculous, impossible fantasy. Yet, here I am.

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