Page 51 of Cherry Beats

Looking back at him, I stared deep into his open, honest, enchanting eyes, and all I saw gazing back at me was a future star. Someone the world needed to see. Someone who belonged far, far away from Hollings Hill, away from this apartment and the same four walls. Someone who shouldn’t be bound by anything or anyone or any commitment.

“I’m really going to go this time,” I found myself whispering.

He gave me a gentle nod of understanding and placed my hand back on the counter before he pulled away.There was nothing more to say. No response would ever be suitable for the speech he’d made.

Slipping into my boots and my jacket, I swallowed all my real emotions to try and keep it together. My throat burned, and my body throbbed from his ownership, taunting me with the memories I was already having to rely on in his absence.

With my bag hooked over my shoulder, I moved around to stand by his side. Presley was wearing loose jogging pants that hung off his slender hips and showed the perfect V creases I’d trailed my tongue over all night long. His arms were now folded over his naked chest, and he was staring straight ahead.

I looked up at him and laid my hand on his arm. He glanced down at me from the corners of his eyes, the muscles in his strong jaw twitching.

“My mum is called Lisa Lisbon. She was twenty when she had me. Blames me for stealing her youth. She’s regimented, bossy, entitled, and cold most of the time. And when she’s warm, it’s fake, offered for the sake of appearances. My father’s name is Seth. He’s always been so desperately in love with Mum, and willing to do anything to please her, meaning he always backs her in any argument. Dad is lazy—off work with a long-term back problem to claim as many benefits as he can. He could work, he just doesn’t want to. Mum doesn’t want him to, either. She likes having him there to gush over her all day. They drink a lot at any time of day, just not enough to be classed as alcoholics, only social losers. They love music, which has always been a good thing for me, and they generally couldn’t give a toss whether I was living with them or on the other side of the world, as long as I’m not interrupting their love affair. Then there’s my brother Freddie.” I paused and sucked in a small breath, my voice quiet when I spoke again. “He’s two years younger. A total waster, too. As lazy as Dad—as entitled as Mum. Handsome, but he knows it and uses it to treat women like shit. After that, there’s just me, and you already know everything you need to know there. The four of us live together like some mismatched, thrown-together family. I grew up around cheap clubs, cheap alcohol, and cheaper attitudes. That’s it—no chat show-worthy issues here. Just a determination to do more and be more than they ever thought I could be. A desire to live.”

Presley’s eyes softened, but he never spoke. An understanding shone from beyond the bright blues staring back at me.

“Thank you for being interested enough to ask about my life.”

His nostrils flared, and he remained silent.

“I know I have no right to say this, but I’m going to anyway.”

Presley blinked, and I took a step closer. My palm curled tighter around his arm.

“You were named after the king of rock ‘n’ roll. Own it, Presley, but don’t become the cliché. Don’t let the booze and the drugs or any of that crap catch up with you. You’re better than that. Remember yourself like this: talented and lovely. So charming and alive. You’re every girl’s dream and more.” I smiled softly and curled my fingers tighter into his skin. “I know I have no right to worry about you, but I’m going to anyway because that’s who I am as a person. I’m moronic, irrational, and when I like someone, I like them with everything I have. So, please, remember this moment right here when you’re at the top of the mountain about to jump. Remember this feeling of being about to embark on the most exciting journey of your life. Don’t forget why you started. Don’t lose yourself to all the other stuff going on around you. Don’t forget what this journey is about: the music, Presley. Always the music.”

The Adam’s apple in his throat sank slowly, and then rose again before he closed his eyes. I chose that moment to rise on my tiptoes and press a last kiss to his lips. He kissed me back, only softly, never once letting his arms drop from his chest or trying to pull me into an embrace.

He’d told me he’d let me go as soon as I told him about my family.

There was a lot of honour in the man behind the drums.

Without giving myself time to change my mind, I turned on my heels, tugged my bag strap farther onto my shoulder, and I walked to the door.

“Cherry?”

My eyes closed tightly, and I paused to glance back at him.

“Can I see you again? Stay in touch? I don’t know.” Presley flared his nostrils and shook his head. “Hire you as my fucking cheerleader or something?”

“I’ve been your cheerleader for years. That won’t change.”

“It’s no good to me if I can’t see you or hear it. You’re full of good. You’re good for me. We could make something work. We could call each other, FaceTime, write or, shit, I don’t know—”

“No, Presley.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve had my night now.”

“That’s it?”

“Forget about me.”

“What if I can’t?”

“Get a grip, okay?” I said with a small huff of laughter. “Stay on track, rock star. You deserve everything you’re about to get.”

“It doesn’t have to be goodbye.”

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