14
Valentina
We reach a back hallway with doors on either side. Faint music comes out of them, along with some off-key sounds that make me wince.
“What are we doing?” A screech from the room to my right makes me stumble back. What the hell is this?
“Well, darling.” Huxley pauses for my reaction. I shrug. “We are going to be doing one of your firsts right now.”
“I still don’t get what you mean by firsts.”
Huxley faces me. “Right now, we’re on your first date. Eventually, you’ll have your first kiss and then your first time. But there are so many other firsts out there, and we need to figure out which ones you are going to have.”
Okay. I guess that makes sense. But this back hallway of screeching rooms doesn’t seem like a first I want to experience. Before I can ask what the sounds are coming from these rooms, Huxley pulls me into one of them.
My eyes catch onto the big screen hanging up on one wall, then on the table and chairs lining the back.
“What is this?”
Huxley walks up to the table and grabs a remote. With a click, the screen lights up, and the words Mike’s Karaoke glow in front of me.
Oh my god.
“No. Huxley, no.”
He grabs my shoulders before I can make my escape.
“Relax, baby,” he says in a soft, deep voice, taking my ability to breathe again. My eyes widen, and his hands grip my shoulders a little bit tighter as we stare at each other.
This one simple word shouldn’t have such an effect on me. But no one’s ever called me that before, so this is a normal reaction, right? Everyone loses their breath the first time someone calls them baby. I’m not alone here. Right?
“Do you or do you not like baby, I can’t tell,” Huxley says warily.
I quickly bring myself back to life and nod. “Baby’s fine.” My voice nearly betrays me, coming out softer than I wanted it to.
He nods and drops his hands from my shoulders. When he turns to grab the remote, I pull in a deep breath to regain myself.
Seriously? All this from him calling me baby?
I bring myself back together enough to focus on the remote in Huxley’s hands. “You’re really going to make me sing in front of you?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Why are you so adamant about this?”
I’d understand his dedication to this if I was born into some famous family full of singers, and I was the quiet one who was too shy to sing along. But my parents are doctors. And I know damn sure my brother can’t carry a tune. And he doesn’t even know any of that, so why is he pushing this?
A layer of seriousness takes over his voice as he says, “Because I’d hate for your potential to be wasted.”
I pause, letting his words sink in. “It’s not like I’ll become some famous singer after you hear me.”
He shrugs and starts flipping through songs. “Don’t worry. I’ll go first. That way you can see how it’s done.”
As Huxley sifts through potential songs, I get an idea. While his focus is solely on the screen, I grab the remote from him. His eyes jump from the remote to me.
“Then I’m picking the song,” I say with a smile.
His eyes narrow but fade to a normal expression as he smirks. “Fine. But then I get to pick yours.”
My smile instantly falls. “Don’t pick something hard so I embarrass myself,” I plead.
He raises his right hand. “I swear I won’t.”
I don’t believe him for a second. “Fine,” I groan. “Close your eyes.”
He raises an eyebrow in amusement. “Seriously?”
“Yes. Close your eyes.”
His eyes stay open, staring at me. I huff and reach up to cover them myself. Unfortunately, he’s so tall that the only way I can cover his eyes is to use my right hand as a shield, leaving the rest of my body in an awkward position—halfway turned so I can still see the screen.
I also can’t cover his eyes completely, so he’s currently staring down at me while I try to keep my focus on the screen. My chest heats up from his stare that I try to ignore, but then I freeze. Because I can’t ignore the touch I just felt on my arm. My eyes swing up to his, and he smirks.
“Pick a song for me,” he whispers in a deep voice.
I swallow hard and focus my attention back to the screen. “Right.”
But focusing is very hard to do right now.
Huxley glides his fingers up my arm, then draws a slow circle on my shoulder before moving higher. I try to focus on the songs, but my vision goes hazy as his thumb strokes my neck.
He leans down and whispers, “Your heart’s racing, Valentine.”
He barely touches my earlobe, making me gasp and pull away. “I found your song,” I say, completely out of breath.
Huxley bites his lip to hide the damn smile that wants to form as he looks at the screen. Then that cocky smirk spreads as he looks back at me. “Good choice.”
I look at the screen, unsure of what song I even picked. My eyes widen when I see the name.
Open Arms by Journey.
The song I hummed on the way here.
“I really thought you were going to give me something like Dream On.”
I finally tamp down my racing heart and smile at him. “I’m sure you could hit that note just like Steven Tyler can.”
His eyes widen. “You know who the frontman of Aerosmith is?”
I simply shrug and walk away to grab a microphone for him.
“And you knew it was Aerosmith?” The shock only grows in his voice, making me roll my eyes.
I grab the mic and turn back to him, shoving it into his chest. “Just sing to me, Huxley Adams.”
His shock fades as a smile forms. He takes the mic from me, and I move over to the other side of the room to sit for his performance as he turns the song on.
This song isn’t the typical one you would pick for karaoke, but I’m glad I did. Huxley’s voice is deep and rough, and the contrast with the piano melody is perfect.
I sway slightly as he sings, lost in his voice. There’s something different about it tonight, though. Normally, he sounds too polished, too perfect, too rehearsed. But right now he sounds smooth, easygoing, almost free. There’s no crowds, just me. And he’s never sounded better.
Midway through the song, Huxley holds his hand out to me. I stare at it for a moment before slowly slipping my hand into his. He pulls me up and into his chest as he sings the chorus.
Being serenaded is not something I thought I would enjoy. The idea of being sung to in such an intimate way seemed horrifying. I like being in the back, away from the action. All I want is to hear the song being sung.
But right now, with Huxley staring down at me, singing these words to me, I want to stand here forever. I want to listen to him sing all my favorite songs and hold me while he does.
I feel like I’m in a trance, being swept away to a world where there is only him and I. And he sings to me as if I’m special. As if I’m his.
He turns me around so my back is pressed to his front, his arm wrapping around my chest to keep me close. I hold onto his arm and let his voice seep into my mind, keeping me in my fantasy.
When the chorus comes back, he spins me around again, twirling me while he sings. I can’t help the laugh that escapes me. We dance while he sings, and all my worries fade like they never existed. A stream of happiness creeps into my brain—a foreign feeling ready to take up permanent residence.
As the final notes play out, Huxley pulls me back to him, and I’m suddenly reminded of where I am, of who he is, and just how amazing a singer he really is. And how I just witnessed that so up close and personal.
I stare up at him, unmoving, not saying anything at all, which brings worry to his features as he frowns. “Valentine?”
I blink slowly. “How are you real?”
“What?” he nervously laughs.
“It’s not possible for you to be that amazing. You can’t be real.”
His smile grows, a bit more cocky than normal. “Well, what can I say? I’m simply perfect.” He winks, and I believe him.
You are. You are perfect.
He puts the microphone down before grabbing the remote. “Come on, Love. Your turn.”
I freeze instantly.
This feels different from when he called me baby.
Maybe because I sort of expected that term of endearment to eventually get thrown around.
But Love? I thought he would stray so far from the word that he wouldn’t even ever admit that he liked me, so as not to confuse our situation.
But here we are, and I don’t know how to respond to it.
Do I even want him to call me Love? Will that just hurt my heart more in the end?
Huxley looks at me and notices my motionless state. He takes a step closer to me, lifting my chin. “Take my hand, Love,” he whispers. I shakily lift my hand for him to hold. “So I take it Love is the winner?”
My hand grips his tighter, and I realize that if this is all I get with Huxley Adams, I’m going to let him call me Love just so I can pretend I’m someone he could want.
“Sure,” I whisper back. His new smile, the one I’m starting to love, that’s the one he gives me. And I feel that stream of happiness turn into a wave, crashing into me.
Huxley pulls me to the center of the room and starts to look through songs for me to sing.
“What about you?” I ask, still on a high from him calling me Love.
“Hmm?” He continues flipping through songs, keeping his focus there.
“What do I call you then?”
He smiles the easy smile, tilting his head to look down at me. “Just keep calling me Huxley, Love. That’s enough for me.”
My happiness fades as quickly as it comes, pulling me under from the brutal force. He doesn’t want me to call him anything? Not even something simple like baby? He doesn’t want any of that?
My heart sinks at the fact that he’s able to have some strong effect on me, and he knows it too, but I’m not allowed to call him anything.
It’s not real. None of this is.
My eyes fall to the floor, then glance toward the door. Would it be wrong to leave right now? To just walk out of this room and never look back.
I swallow the lump in my throat and softly ask, “Why can’t I call you anything?”
I lift my head, but Huxley keeps his attention on the screen.
He shrugs. “When a guy uses a term of endearment on a girl, it’s romantic and sweet. When a girl uses one on a guy?” He shrugs again. “I don’t know. It just seems a little embarrassing.”
“You’re embarrassed to be in a relationship?”
That makes him finally look at me. “That’s not what I mean,” he says calmly, evenly, like he’s trying not to upset me. But the pieces fall into places I don’t want them to.
“So you’re embarrassed of me?” My voice comes out quiet, nearly breaking. I’m embarrassed of me right now. I thought things were going better. Now I feel like a fool for getting happy over him singing to me.
Huxley turns to me, reaching up to touch my face. “Val.”
I step back from him.
He looks down at the bigger space between us, his hand still in the air.
My eyes start to burn, and I’m seconds away from letting my tears fall and booking it out of here.
“If you’re that embarrassed of me, then what are we even doing here?” I snap with the same intensity as a baby turtle.
Huxley’s eyes jump to mine, and I blink rapidly to stop my tears from falling. Though right now it feels like a losing battle.
“I’m not embarrassed by you, Valentina.” His voice sounds calm, but there’s a hint of frustration coming through in the way he calls me Valentina instead of Valentine, but it doesn’t mask the concern in his voice.
Huxley steps towards me again, and this time I don’t move. He brings both his hands up to my face, lifting it so he can stare down at me. “Look,” he sighs. “We’re both new to all this. No one’s ever called me those names before.” I open my mouth to say something, but he continues.
“And I know you feel the same way. But I’m just not ready for you to call me those names. And if that’s how you feel, then I’ll stop. I just want us both to be comfortable and not do things we aren’t ready for. Like your first kiss.”
His thumb brushes over my lips, buckling my knees. “I know you aren’t ready for that step yet. So just be patient with me, and I’ll be patient with you.” His eyes look back and forth over mine. “Is that okay?”
Yeah, it is. It really is.
“Will you…” I stop, trying to collect the right words without screwing this up more than I already have.
“Will you at least tell me when you do become embarrassed by me?” I manage to ask. “That way I can fix myself before I become unbearable.”
His eyebrows crease in worry, and his hands tighten in my hair. “Valentina,” he softly breathes out. “Baby, you don’t have to worry about that. I’m not, nor will I ever be, embarrassed by you.”
“You don’t know that,” I whisper, tears forming again.
His shoulders slump, a deep breath leaving him. Then he shrugs. “Fine. Then tell me the same thing.”
I shake my head, trying to keep all the words that want to come out inside.
You’re so much better than me. You always will be. You’re the one who will grow tired of me.
“So we agree this won’t be an issue?” Huxley says off my silence. I nod even though I don’t agree one bit. I’ll become something he has to deal with, not something he wants around. But I’ll never get tired of him. I already know. I already feel my heart breaking into a million pieces.
“Good.” He suddenly spins me around and covers my eyes with his hand, pressing my back into his chest. I grab his hand, gasping at the sudden situation I’m in. His lips gently touch my ear as he whispers, “Now close your eyes, Love.”
Jesus Christ. I set myself up for this one.