Chapter 10 Hazel
Hazel
I’d done the dishes, swept and mopped the kitchen floor, vacuumed, and wiped down every surface, window, and mirror in the apartment the next day. And despite all that, my body was still rejecting Lucifer’s existence in every way humanly possible.
Skylar had lost it on me when I came through the door last night.
I thought she was going to kick me out; she was so upset with me.
She was torn between being happy for me and wanting all the juicy details and being utterly livid that I’d kept her up, worrying like an anxious parent.
I knew better than to get in the way of her sleep schedule, and I somehow managed that and deprived her of fresh gossip, all in one fell swoop.
She’d eventually gone to her room in a huff so she could get a couple of hours of sleep in before she had to get up for work.
I sighed as I watched Lucifer sprawl across the middle cushion of the couch, bathing. Right. Where. I. Slept.
I couldn’t help but feel like the universe was somehow punishing me for last night. For being reckless and getting on the back of a stranger’s motorcycle. For kissing a man when I was still very much a married woman. And for loving all of it so goddamn much.
There was some gray area to all of that, sure, but it still felt wrong.
The moment Milton’s lips had touched mine, Devan had evaporated from my thoughts entirely.
Hell, the moment I straddled my legs around him on the back of his bike, I was transported into a world where Devan no longer existed.
Those were the types of things that made you the villain in someone else’s story, and I wasn’t sure I was comfortable accepting that inevitable, new role in Devan’s just yet.
Even though I could think of a dozen different ways he was the villain in mine.
Needing some validation, I pulled out my phone and texted Skylar.
Me: Am I a horrible person for being married and kissing a complete stranger?
It took a moment before my phone vibrated with her response.
Skylar: Babes, no! You’re only married to a shitty little man on a measly piece of paper. It’s a technicality at this point.
Skylar: AND HOLY SHIT! YOU KISSED HIM!?
Me: Yes. And now I’m stress-cleaning your apartment.
Skylar: I take it back. You are a horrible person. Horrible because it’s 1 p.m., and you’re only NOW texting me to tell me this when you’ve had ALL DAY!
Me: Great. Now I’m going to cry AND stress-clean your room.
Skylar had described her personal space as organized chaos.
I tended to think it leaned more heavily on the chaotic side of things and less on the organized, but one thing was certain: she hated when people moved her personal belongings.
I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to work with her in her bakery.
Her employees had to have the patience of saints to work with her in the kitchen all day, wondering where she’d decided the flour or sugar went today.
Skylar: Don’t. You. Dare.
Me: Say you love me.
Skylar: Fine, I give! I love you, and you can do no wrong.
Skylar: Now, for the love of God, tell me how the kiss was! Did he kiss you, or did you kiss him?
Skylar: Was he nice? He’d better have been, or I’ll kick his ass. Was there tongue? How did it happen?
A giggle escaped me. I touched my lips, remembering how Milton’s kiss had felt, and my heart sprang to life in my chest.
Skylar: HAZEL.
Me: I kissed him!
I wasn’t sure why I’d texted that with my defenses up. It wasn’t like she’d judge me for it. She’d be happy. Surprised maybe, but definitely happy.
Skylar: YOU?!
Me: Yeah …
Skylar: And you wanted to, right? You didn’t feel pressured?
Me: No, no. He was wonderful, Sky.
Skylar: Okay … why do I feel like there’s a “but” coming?
Skylar: I mean, c’mon. This guy is a total dreamboat!
Me: Dreamboat???
I giggled to myself, knowing I was only making her more enraged.
Skylar: Yeah, as in HE’S A HOT-AS-FUCK DRUMMER! Now, are you going to tell me how it happened and all the juicy little details or not? I’m losing it over here!
I sighed, mentally reliving it all again, and then started texting. I could feel her waiting on the other end, impatiently watching the three dots appear as I typed the vaguest description of what had really been an indescribable night.
Me: We stopped underneath a bridge after it started raining on us, so we just sat there, somewhat talking and looking at each other.
He was so sweet, Sky! He has these kind blue eyes that I could stare into forever.
And then he started asking me how to sign our names.
I felt safe with him. Calm and excited at the same time.
I don’t know how to explain it or what came over me. I just kissed him.
Skylar: Yeah, you did! Ahhh!
I chuckled at her celebration.
Skylar: I’m so proud of you, babes. When are you seeing him again?
My fingers hovered over the keyboard; I knew she wasn’t going to like my answer.
Me: I’m not.
Skylar: AND WHY THE HELL IS THAT?
Me: I can’t. I’m not ready for all that right now. I don’t even think I was ready last night.
Skylar: You kissed the man. He didn’t kiss you …
Me: I mean, he did … like reeeeally well.
Skylar: What I mean is, YOU initiated it. You honestly think you would’ve done that if you weren’t ready?
Me: I don’t know! I don’t just go around kissing people!
Skylar: You also haven’t been single since you were in high school. You don’t know this version of yourself yet.
Me: Exactly. How do I know if I can trust her?
Skylar: Give yourself some grace, Hazel. Allow yourself to find out what you truly want. A little risk is okay. What are you so afraid of? Really?
Me: Aside from not being officially divorced yet and feeling like I’m cheating? I’m scared of jumping in too soon and breaking someone else’s heart because I was reckless. I don’t want to create similar scars, which I’m still healing from, for someone else.
Skylar: I know you don’t want to hear this, but you don’t have control over whether you do that or not. All you can do is lead with your heart. And it’s a pretty golden one if you ask me.
Me: That was lame. But thank you.
Skylar: Look, I don’t want you to chase after something if your gut is screaming to run the other way. But if you felt something for this man … this extremely hot, sweet, tall, muscular, successful, and talented blue-eyed man … then you deserve to find out if there’s something there.
I read her text three times, letting the words sink in fully before I responded.
Me: Gosh, I love you.
Skylar: I love you too, silly. Let me know what he says. ;)
Me: What?
Skylar: When you text him …
I dropped my head back onto the couch cushion in frustration, realizing this entire conversation had been pointless.
I never gave Milton my number, not that he had asked for it.
Why would he have after the way I reacted to our kiss last night?
Sure, he knew where I lived now, but I wouldn’t expect a freaking famous rock star to show up on my doorstep, hoping to see me again.
I left my and Skylar’s conversation at that, figuring I’d come up with a more reasonable excuse or lie by the time she got home and checked in.
Which I didn’t. Not that I could ever lie to her anyway.
I was just sick of feeling like I was doing so many things wrong, even with something that might not be right to begin with.
After scolding me relentlessly, Skylar immediately put her detective skills to work and scoured the internet for anything she could find on the man.
Milton’s phone number—which, to no surprise, wasn’t leaked anywhere.
His address—as if she thought I was just going to show up at his door like a stalker if we found it.
His social media—which didn’t allow private messages unless you were friends with him.
But I did enjoy scrolling through some of his recent posts.
There were a couple on his motorcycle, several with him and his bandmates, and one of a blurry door behind a set of keys in his hand, captioned: Finders keepers.
My favorite was the picture he had of a darling little girl, wearing his hat that was far too large for her small head, sitting atop his shoulders.
The way he was mid-laughter, looking up at her and her down at him, made my heart melt.
In a last-ditch effort, Skylar checked the band’s tour dates.
The idea of attending one of his shows so I could see him again didn’t seem as creepy as some of her other ideas.
I had enjoyed their music and dancing with my friends.
Though getting his attention for a second time in a massive crowd would be rather difficult.
I doubted the chance of getting to be onstage and needing a rescue from a boob slip would ever happen again.
But, dammit, the sliver of opportunity to see him again piqued my interest enough to stir the butterflies in my stomach as Skylar sifted through their website.
The only problem was that their next shows weren’t until fall and were in Europe.
“I should get to work,” I said, trying not to let the disappointment rattle me. I only had a half day of work ahead of me, but I was looking forward to getting out of the apartment and away from Lucifer.
Skylar’s shoulders slumped as she tucked her phone away. “Don’t give up yet. There are always other chances.”
“He’s a fucking rock star. And it was just a kiss. Maybe this is the universe telling me not to be so unrealistic.”
“No, no, no.” She shook her head. “I don’t like the voice of your universe. It’s pessimistic. I want optimism, please. Positivity!”
“Well, I’m positive I will be late to the shop unless I leave right this second. How’s that?” I tucked my lip in indifference.
Her nostrils flared at me as she watched me gather my bag. “Fine. I’ll do some digging while you’re at work.”
I groaned. “Please don’t.”
With a smug grin, she waved me off and disappeared into her room with Lucifer.