Romantically Entangled

Chapter 5

Bey

I went to bed early. I really need a decent night's sleep.

But half an hour later, I'm still staring up at the ceiling, sweating, and cursing Kelly's stepfather.

Even with his step daughter living in the house, the son of a bitch won't spring for decent air conditioning or do anything much to make the house livable.

Then again, maybe it's precisely because Kelly lives here that her stepdad is such a cheap ass.

The two of them seem to despise each other.

Not that I have any business judging.

I sit up and switch on the lamp next to my bed, then grab the guitar leaning against the nightstand.

The instrument's dinged wood has almost as many battle scars as I do.

This guitar kept me sane, or at least saner than I would have been without it. No doubt in my mind about that.

Plus, it was the last communication I'll ever have from my old man, his peace offering. And I never even thanked him for it.

I figured I'd have plenty of time to do that later, after I'd let him suffer a little longer for all he put me through.

But we both ran out of time.

Sweat runs down my back, and suddenly, I can't stand to sit here any longer.

I jump off the bed and head out to the front porch, still holding the guitar. I'm only wearing a sports bra and boxers, but it's not like anyone is going to see me.

I'm thinking I'll play for a while, out here where it's cooler. Maybe that will soothe my brain enough that I can get some sleep.

I slump into the squeaking porch swing and bring the guitar to rest on my lap, ready to play.

But a screeching army of cicadas shatters my plans before I even start. It's too damn noisy out here to be able to focus on the music.

I swing back and forth for a few minutes, trying to empty my mind. Trying not to think about anything that will make sleep impossible for tonight.

Then I realize I'm hearing noises above me.

Still holding the guitar, I step off the porch and look up toward Nicki's room.

And there she is, sitting on the roof near her bedroom window. It looks like she's writing something.

"Hey," I call up to her, "you discovered the best spot in the whole house."

There's a long pause. She closes the notebook she was writing in.

"Hey," she finally responds. She doesn't sound all that thrilled to have been interrupted.

"Feel like some company?" I hadn't planned to say that. It just popped out.

Another long pause.

"Sure," she eventually drawls, again sounding less than enthusiastic.

Ouch. I guess I should take the hint.

But I would like to get to know her better. We're going to be living together, after all.

And it doesn't look like I'm going to be getting any sleep for a while.

I turn toward the tree and jump up into the lowest branches, the guitar still on my back.

I should just take the stairs to her room like a normal person. But Beyonce-to-the-Rescue always likes to make a big entrance.

The guys in my unit nicknamed me that after I helped a group of Afghan civilians stranded in their flooded village.

And that's what I thought I was doing later, coming to the rescue, when everything went so wrong over there.

I was just trying to help.

I've told myself that a zillion times. But I doubt anyone else would see it that way.

I keep climbing, trying to chase away the memories.

"What are you doing?" Nicki asks, sounding shocked.

But also, she sounds a little excited. Maybe.

Or maybe I'm just imagining that. But it's what I'm going with.

I grin up at her as I reach for another branch. "Coming to see you."