Saving Avery (11 page)

Avery takes a sip of her milkshake from the thick straw. I try to avoid staring at her, but that proves to be extremely difficult. When her plump pink lips wrap around the straw, I feel like I'm going to spontaneously combust. I can still remember how soft those lips were against mine and the way she tasted. I stifle a groan and force my eyes to my plate and try to focus on something other than her mouth.

We're able to finish eating without any combustion on my part, and I pay the check before we head out the door. "The movies are starting in about twenty minutes, so we should probably head there now," I say as we get into the SUV. When I start the engine, Lynyrd Skynyrd's
Free Bird
comes on the radio. I reach for the volume knob at the same time she does, and our fingers bump against each other.

"Sorry," she says quickly.

"I was just going to turn it up."

She grins. "Me too."

I crank the volume and glance over at Avery. She closes her eyes and sways gently to the music. "You don't strike me as a Lynyrd Skynyrd fan," I say as I pull the SUV out of the parking lot and onto the highway.
Although she didn't strike me as a burgers and fries kind of girl either
, I think to myself. She's definitely full of surprises. I'll give her that.

She laughs. It's a breathy, genuine laugh, and it sounds wonderful. "Who couldn't possibly love this band?"

"That's very true." I listen to the lyrics of the song, and it kind of reminds me of Avery. She's like a beautiful, rare bird, and her husband has clipped her wings. He keeps her steeled away in his gilded cage, never allowing her to be free, never allowing others to see her true beauty. I'd love to see her be able to leave him and be free to do whatever she wants to in life. She deserves so much more than she has right now.

Avery softly sings along, and I strain to hear her over the radio. I remember she told me last night that she liked to sing in the shower. Losing herself in the music, she starts to sing a little louder, and I can clearly pick up on her voice. She sounds incredible. "You should do karaoke," I suggest, glancing over at her. I would love to hear her voice secluded with only music in the background.

She laughs again, and it's music to my ears. I can see a slight blush creep onto her cheeks. "That is something I've never tried."

"Really? Never? Well, you should. You'd be very good at it," I say confidently.

Her smile slowly fades. "I would be too embarrassed to be on stage in front of people," she confesses.

"What could you possibly be embarrassed about? You're gorgeous, funny, smart, and you can sing."

She worries her bottom lip between her teeth and stares out the window. I know that's a habit she has whenever she's nervous. Immediately I regret saying what I did. She really has no idea how amazing she is, and her constant self-doubt tugs at my heartstrings. I reach over and pull her hand into mine. My thumb skates over her soft skin, and I'm struck with the realization that she's not wearing her wedding ring. I grin. She's giving this a chance. She's giving us a chance. Even if we haven't spelled it out or put into writing what we're doing, I feel like there is something between us, something more than just friendship. This feels like a real date, and everything else doesn't matter when we're together.

"Have you lived in North Carolina your whole life?" I ask in an attempt to cut through the tension still lingering in the air.

"Yes. Well, I was actually born in California."

"California. Wow." I look over at her and see she's staring at our joined hands as my thumb caresses her skin. When I first took her hand, it was balled into a tight fist; but now she's slowly relaxing. I take that as a sign of trust.

"My mom was actually an actress. Her stage name was Olivia O'Dell, and she met my father while he was on a business trip in Cali. They fell in love, and nine months later I came into the world. They moved to my father's estate in North Carolina when I was only two months old. And a couple years later my sister Allison was born. My mom always wanted to return to Hollywood, but…" Her voice trails off as she returns her gaze to the window. She's instantly in another place, another time.

I give her hand a gentle squeeze, and it seems to bring her back to the present.

"She never got the chance," she says with a small sigh.

"Was she in any big movies that I would know of?" I ask.

"
Live Again
and
One More Time
were her biggest hits. She starred in romantic comedies mostly, so I'm sure you haven't seen them. You don't strike me as the romantic comedy type," she jokes, squeezing my hand playfully.

I chuckle and squeeze back. "I would definitely take a De Niro movie over a romantic comedy any day, but I would love to watch your mom's movies sometime with you."

A huge smile appears on her face, and she says, "I'd like that."

We reach our destination, and I'm actually kind of disappointed that the ride wasn't longer. I love talking to Avery and hearing her throaty laugh and little sighs. Just being around her, in general, makes me happy. It's a scary thought when I think of how miserable I'm going to be after this week is over.

I shake my head, dispelling the thought. I have this entire week with her. I'm really enjoying her company, and I think we get along great. I'm not going to mope around and constantly think about it ending. Instead, I'm going to revel in the time we have together, no matter how short it may be.

When we walk into the theater, there are three movies playing. One is a horror flick, which Avery immediately says no to. I'm totally fine with that since I'm not big on scary movies…although I wouldn't mind her jumping into my arms if she got scared. The other two movies are complete opposites. The one is a total guy's pick with nonstop action, guns and fighting, and the other is a total chick flick.

I glance at the posters. "Well, there's only one way to settle this."

She looks at me with apprehension.

"Rock, paper, scissors," I say deadpan.

She giggles, and it makes me smile. "Best two out of three," she suggests.

After three quick rounds, she wins by covering my rock with her paper. And so I buy the tickets to the romantic comedy. Most guys would probably complain about seeing a chick flick, but I'm just happy to be here with her, no matter what we watch.

"I think you let me win," she says as we walk to the concession stand.

I feign shock, and she laughs.

"Come on, Max. You picked rock three times in a row."

"Did I?" I ask, nonchalantly. She's right. I did let her win. I don't really care what movie we see as long as I get to spend time with her.

After we get our drinks, I reach for her hand. It feels so damn good in mine, and I can't stop grinning like an idiot. She leads the way into the theater. We sit in a dark back corner of the theater in what I refer to as the 'make-out seats'. While I wouldn't mind making out with Avery, I'm not going to push my luck. If this is going to work, we're going to have to move at her pace. And at this point, I don't care if her pace is as slow as molasses. Just being around her makes me happy. Anything else that might happen is just the icing on the cake.

We chat quietly through the previews and talk about each movie that looks interesting. I'm quick to find out that Avery and I have pretty much the same taste not only in music, but in movies as well.

"Oh, I want to see this one," she whispers in my ear.

I grin at how close she gets when she wants to whisper to me, and I'm secretly hoping that she talks through the whole damn movie. Another preview comes on. "This one looks good too."

She grabs her drink from the cup holder and says, "We should come see this when it comes out." She catches herself, and the hand bringing the drink up to her mouth halts suddenly. "I mean…I…"

I lean over to her and whisper, "We'll come see it. I promise."

A smile tugs on the corners of her lips. Before she can say anything else, the movie starts. The basic plot is about a woman whose husband is cheating on her, and she falls in love with a guy that she works with.
How fitting.

Avery is completely engrossed in the movie; however, my eyes keep straying from the screen to her face. I love to watch her reactions to different parts of the movie. And when her pink lips part as she gasps, I find myself just wanting to kiss her again.

As if she can sense my eyes on her, she turns her head. Our lips are only inches apart. I can't stop staring at them and thinking about what they felt like pressed up against mine last night. I reach up and gently run my fingertips along her jaw line. My thumb skates over her bottom lip, and I can feel her soft breath on my skin. Her lips gently kiss the pad of my thumb. It's a simple gesture, but it's meaningful and incredibly sexy coming from her.

She smiles a heart-stopping smile that takes my breath away. Then she slides under my arm that's draped over the back of her chair, resting her head on my chest. My nose is in her hair, breathing in her flowery scent. She smells wonderful. I wrap my arm around her, pull her close and run my fingertips casually up and down her arm. She's tense at first, but quickly relaxes. I can feel her sigh with content, and it makes me happy to know she's comfortable with me. She stays in my arms for the rest of the movie. With any other girl, it wouldn't be a big deal. But with Avery, I know she's starting to open up to me and trust me. And I can't help but start falling for her, although I think I already tripped and fell head over heels days ago when we first met.

*

AVERY

Max holds my hand as we walk out of the movie theater. It's as if he's afraid of letting me go. And in all honesty, I don't want him to let me go.

He opens the car door for me, and I climb in. He gets in the driver's seat and navigates us out of the parking lot and down the strip of businesses and neon lights along the stretch of highway.

We're riding in comfortable silence when he says, "Hang on," before suddenly veering off the road. He pulls the SUV into a dirt and gravel parking lot in front of a brick building and parks near the front entrance. I look over at him curiously and see that he's staring straight ahead with a big smile on his face. I follow his gaze. We're in front of a little dive bar. Through the cloud of dust that the SUV stirred up, I see a lighted sign by the front entrance with the words
Karaoke Tonight
.

I turn back to Max and instantly protest. "No. No way."

He smiles and says. "You have to, Avery. It's fate that brought us here. I was telling you earlier how you should do karaoke," he says, sweeping his hand towards the building, "and now here we are."

"I…I can't," I argue.

"Why not?"

I hesitate. I can't really think of a good reason besides the fact that I am completely and utterly terrified. Before I can say another word, he gets out of the vehicle, walks around the front and opens my door. He holds his hand out, but it seems like it's more than just an invitation to get out of the car. It feels like it's an invitation to jump into deep water with him and trust that he won't let me drown.

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath.
Just jump
, I tell myself. I put my hand in his, and he pulls me out of the vehicle with a big goofy grin on his face. I can't resist that grin.

We walk into the bar. A cloud of cigarette smoke floats in the air, and multi-colored lights flash sporadically through it from the stage and DJ booth near the back wall. I grab Max's hand and lead him straight to the bar. The bartender looks at me expectantly. "Two tequila shots," I say with conviction. Max shoots me a look, and I shrug and say, "If I'm going to do this, it's not going to be sober."

He laughs. "So you
are
doing it then?"

I pinch my lips together and stare up at him through my long lashes. He looks so damn happy. How could I ever say no to him? I nod once, and his smile widens.

The bartender brings back the shots. I slap money on the counter and down both of them one after the other. The alcohol burns my throat and leaves a warm sensation trailing down to my stomach. I gasp for air and shake my head at the taste. It's been so long since I've had straight liquor. It definitely hasn't improved in taste.

Max's jaw drops. "And here I thought one was for me," he jokes.

I laugh.

His dark gaze is on me as his fingers gently cup my jaw. "I love to hear that," he says softly. My heart stutters in my chest. "I wish I could make you happy all the time."

I stare into his dark eyes and instantly get lost. He always says the sweetest things to me, and I know he has no idea how much his words mean to me. I lean up on my tiptoes and kiss him. I intended for the kiss to be short, but my lips linger. He's the one that breaks it off first. He has a heated look in his eye, and I know he's trying to restrain himself. I respect that he's not trying to push me, but I don't know how much longer I will want him to hold back.

The bartender returns and asks, "Another?"