Chapter 17 Kaylee
SEVENTEEN
KAYLEE
“Is that a good sigh, or a bad sigh?” Anya asked.
I raised my head from the fabric I’d been sewing to see Anya peeking through the doorway of my bedroom. Her long black hair fall over her shoulders as she leaned forward and tilted her head at me, a question in her brown eyes.
“Have I been sighing?” I asked.
“I can hear it from downstairs,” she replied, and I made a face at her. “Okay, not really,” she admitted. “But I was walking by and definitely heard a huge sigh coming from in here.” She entered my room and sat next to me. “Are you okay?” she asked softly.
I was sitting crosslegged on my bed, hunched over an old, oversized button down shirt I was trying to turn into a dress. I could handle the cutting and piecing together part, but sewing the buttons back on was turning into a greater chore than I’d thought it would be.
“I’m good.” Thinking back to what had happened with Micah, I couldn’t stop a giddy smile from overtaking my whole face. “I’m great, actually.”
“Ooh, I know that look,” Anya said, perking up. I was one of the few people who got to see her playful side. It meant she was having a good mental health day, which made me happy. “That’s your ‘Micah is so great, Micah is so wonderful, I want Micah to notice me’ look.”
I pursed my lips at her and she laughed, then I shrugged with a coy smile.
“It’s safe to say that Micah has definitely noticed me,” I said.
Anya’s eyes lit up and she bent over to get closer, putting her face next to mine.
“Give me every single filthy detail,” she said, an entirely un-Anya like demand.
“Not a chance!” I protested, lowering my head back down to my sewing project to avoid looking at her.
“Just a few naughty details, then,” she conceded.
“He wants to go slow, I want to go fast, we met somewhere in the middle,” I said matter-of-factly. “How’s that?”
“Not nearly enough, but I’ll take it.” She cocked her head at me. “He wants to go slow?” she repeated.
I nodded, cheeks heating up. “He said he wants to… ah… savor me. To ‘tease out every bit of pleasure that he can.’ And… other stuff,” I finished with a shy grin.
Anya’s eyes went wide. “That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard, and I read a lot of smut. Who knew Micah had that kind of side to him? He’s always so cool and collected.”
“I think it’s his meticulous side shining through,” I replied. “He wants to take his time.”
“Well damn,” Anya said, almost speechless, which was saying something for a person who made a living writing eloquent words. “So what does meeting in the middle look like?”
My thoughts flashed back to the previous night. “Let’s just say, he certainly teased some pleasure out of me.”
Anya fell back onto the bed and clutched her chest. “Stop,” she groaned. “I know I said I want details, but I feel like I’m going to melt into the floor. I don’t know what to do with myself.”
I tossed the remnants of the button down shirt at her face. “That’s all you’re getting. No more living vicariously through me. Go get a rock star boyfriend of your own.”
“I don’t need another one,” Anya said stiffly, and I immediately regretted my words. I opened my mouth to apologize when she sat up.
“I’m just glad you two managed to work things out,” she said, going back to her usual soft-spoken manner, all playfulness gone.
I’d always hated how Anya did that. Every time a conversation threatened to poke at one of her sore points, she’d turn it back around to focus on someone else.
The others didn’t mind her deflecting in public, but I’d always worried about her not being able to open up, even to the band.
Even to me. The only time she opened up was with her lyrics.
I supposed we both had that emotional outlet in common.
“I know it was difficult for you for a while,” Anya continued.
“It was difficult for Micah, too,” I said.
“I suppose it was difficult for all of us,” she said thoughtfully. “But things will be better now. Less tense.” She picked up the pieces of fabric I’d thrown at her. “Are you making something?” she asked.
“Trying to,” I sighed.
“Ah, so the sigh wasn’t about Micah, it was about this,” she noted.
“I suck at buttons,” I complained. “I keep pricking my finger. And the thread keeps slipping out of the needle, and even when I do manage to sew on a button, it always comes loose.”
“Give it here,” she said.
I let Anya take the sewing project from my hands. It took her less than two minutes to sew on the buttons I’d been struggling with for half an hour. She handed me back the fabric. “There you go.”
I threw my arms around her, nearly knocking her over with an oof.
“You’re the best,” I said. “What would I do without you?”
“It’s no problem,” she said. “My mom taught me how to sew before she…” Anya trailed off, her shoulders tensing. “Anyway,” she said after clearing her throat. “You know I’m here for you, whatever you need.”
I squeezed Anya tight, putting all my feelings into the hug, knowing that she wouldn’t want to talk about her mother either, and wishing that she would.
“I appreciate it,” I said. “It’s not the kind of thing my mom would have ever thought to teach me,” I added quietly, huddling down into her arms.
“I know,” she said softly, patting my hair. “I’m glad to help.”
I’d never had a big sister, and as for my mom, well, the less said the better. If I hadn’t met Anya, if I hadn’t had her through my adolescence, I didn’t know what kind of person I’d be today.
I loved Micah, so, so much, but Anya and the others had burrowed just as deep inside my heart.
“Thank you,” I said, pinpricks of tears beginning to sting the backs of my eyes.
“It’s just a button,” Anya said with a smile.
But the both of us knew it was about more than just that.
“Don’t forget you’ve got that interview this afternoon,” Anya said. “That’s what I really came in here to tell you. I can’t make it, but the label is sending a car to pick you up at three.”
“It won’t take me long to get ready,” I said.
Anya took the ends of one of my frizzy curls between two fingers and tweaked it.
“You’re not going to do something about this rat’s nest?” she teased.
“It’s a podcast, I don’t need to look perfect,” I replied.
“This podcast films their interviews so they can put clips online,” she said.
“What!” I yelped, jumping off the bed. “Crap. I need to fix my hair and makeup!”
“That’s what I’m telling you,” Anya laughed lightly. “Go get ready. You’ll want to look hot for Micah,” she added.
She turned to leave, but I stopped her.
“Anya…”
I paused, wanting to put my thoughts into careful words. There was something that had been bugging me all day. I’d thought I’d put the worry away, but every so often it popped up, haunting me.
“Do you think it’s a bad sign that Micah wants to go slow?” I finally asked.
Anya waited a beat.
“Do you?” she asked, turning back on me.
“I didn’t think so at first,” I told her.
“But I keep thinking about it. I know Micah was scared to get into a relationship with me. He had half a dozen excuses, half a dozen worries. I thought he’d gotten over them.
But—” I lifted my eyes to meet Anya’s, seeing concern there.
“What if going slow just means he’s still not sure about the two of us being together? ”
“I think that’s a conversation you need to have with him,” Anya said gently.
I sighed, and this time it was about Micah.
“I will,” I said. “After the interview. I’ll sit down and talk to him about it.”
If Micah was still scared to move forward in our relationship, I would just have to make sure he knew it was safe.