Let Me Back

Kennedy Brock was beginning to worry, that much was obvious, as he paced the room as best as he could in the limited space. People were surrounding him, asking him questions, sending him smiles he didn’t bother to return. Where is she? Why isn’t she here yet? He had no answers to the questions that formed in his mind, but he wasn’t going to ask anyone else. What if they knew something he didn’t? What if she wasn’t going to show up, what if she wasn’t going to talk to him anymore? Her phone was off, but that didn’t stop him from calling her countless times. He knew he was being irrational, of course she would show up. But if her flight was delayed she would have told him, if she didn’t want to talk to him anymore the message would have been relayed to him somehow, through someone.

He supposed it was his fault, for telling her to go. She gave him the option, she chose for him to choose for her. Had he chosen wrong? He shook his head at the thought, of course he had done the right thing, letting her go off to NYU rather than stay here, attend Arizona State University like all her other friends. That was her dream, after all. Emery Scott simply wanted to break free of her suburb, climb the iron fence covered in leaves that separated her from the rest of the world and be herself. She had it all figured out, going off to NYU and attending Tisch School of the Arts. She wanted to be an actor and star in hit movies alongside people like Brad Pitt. She couldn’t do that here, at Arizona State University, even though she had offered, even though she had put her dream on the line, for him.

So of course he had chosen the choice that seemed best, the choice he knew she wanted most, but would risk just to be with him, to stay close to him. He let her go, hell, he told her to go. Her absence was a small price to pay for her happiness, and that’s all he ever wanted, was for her to be happy. She could never really be happy if she was stuck here in Tempe, Arizona, attending a college that offered nothing of what she was looking for. He did it for her, even if it risked his own happiness.

He couldn’t deny that he was happy; he was living his dream as well, traveling around to do what he loves. Performing was his life, he lived for the rush that being on stage gave him; he lived to see the smiles on kids faces as they tentatively approached him after shows. He loved his band and his career, even if it wouldn’t last a lifetime or provide him with financial stability; he did it because it was what he adored.

But he still missed her, still thought about her every chance he had a moment to himself. Was she as happy as he was? Over the phone she sounds happy, but is she really? He hadn’t spoken to her in so long, not really, anyway. It’s not the same over the phone as it is face to face, her laugh doesn’t sound the same, and he doesn’t get to see a blush form on her cheeks whenever he tells her of the things that aren’t the same in her absence. Because a lot has changed; band practices seem too formal without her sitting on the couch across from them in the Nickelsen’s basement. They have no one to impress with their new songs and no one to make laugh with their stupid jokes and even stupider stunts.

He missed the nights they would spend laying in the middle of his bed, their hands interlocked as they stared up at the ceiling. They used to talk for hours into the night, falling asleep sometime around four in the morning and waking up long past noon, but only because one of the boys had the nerve to enter his room and pull back the curtains, letting the sunlight flow into the room and bounce off the walls and onto the sleeping couple’s faces. He couldn’t do that now, not with the time difference. Sure, it was only a two hour discrepancy, but when he was climbing into bed around one o’clock in the morning, he didn’t want to call her to talk, especially if she had classes early in the morning.

It was weird, waking up in the morning and not having her next to him or wrapped up in his arms. That was what he missed the most, he thought, being able to hold her close to his chest, his arms wound tightly around her petite frame with her head buried in the crook of his neck. He missed the way her arms wound around his neck, holding him just as tightly in her arms as he did the same to her. He missed the little things he used to overlook when she was still here, like the fruity smell of her shampoo or the soft caress of her hand on the base of his neck as they kissed.

Kennedy sighed, running a hand through his unruly hair and reaching for his phone once more. As soon as the device was in his hand he heard an annoyed sigh come from behind him. He turned around to see John—had he been there the whole time?--, a look of sympathy on his face as he slowly slid the Blackberry from the other man’s hands and said,

“She’ll be here, Kenny.”

It was the only reassurance that Kennedy had gotten from anyone all night, but it still wasn’t enough. It still didn’t make the butterflies in his stomach stop fluttering or the worried crease in his forehead to dissipate. He nodded, however, and turned to walk away before John called out,

“And don’t try and call her on the house phone, either.” He could hear the sly smile in John’s voice as the words left his mouth, as if he had just foiled some brilliant plan of Kenny’s. And in truth, he was right, because that’s what he had planned to do, call her on the house phone up in her old bedroom.

A look of disappointment set itself into Kennedy’s face as he walked further away from his friend, weaving through the people gathered in the living room, people that were awaiting Emery’s arrival, just as he was. He walked past the stairs in the front hall and continued through the dining room before he slipped into the bathroom, flicking on the light and softly closing the door behind him, clicking the lock into place. He walked over to the sink, turning the knobs on the back and watching as water flowed into the marble basin. He scooped the clear liquid into his hands, splashing a tiny amount onto his face and shaking his hair out of his eyes. He turned the water off and looked up, wiping his face of remaining water droplets with a towel before staring into the mirror.

His hair was a mess, which was to be expected. He could never tame the mass of light brown tangles atop his head; they seemed to have a mind of their own. And sometimes they did, sticking out in the opposite directions of wherever he had tried to smooth them down. His red and grey flannel shirt had the first few buttons undone, revealing a simple, one-pocket white tank underneath. His black jeans hung low on his hips, revealing the top of his navy blue boxers. He sighed at his reflection, slowly dragging a hand down his face.

Two knocks came from the other side of the door, but Kennedy ignored them as he ran his hands through his hair, picked at his shirt, anything to keep his mind occupied.

“Kennedy Brock, are you going to unlock this door, or do I have to break it down?”

Kennedy’s head snapped to the side at the sound of that voice, his hands still tangled in his hair. He had little time to comprehend what was going on before he heard the lock click, the door swinging open with unnecessary force.

“I never thought that bobby pins could really pick a lock. I guess you learn something new every day.”

A smile came to Kennedy’s face at the sight of the girl in front of him. Her hair was longer than it was the last time he had seen her, hanging in ringlets quite a ways past her shoulders, but it was the only noticeable change in her appearance. She was wearing an oversized Beatles shirt, the thin fabric hanging down over the tops of her cuffed denim shorts. The silver on her sandals matched the words on her shirt and the pin in her hand was identical to the one that clipped back her chocolate-colored bangs. Her pale blue eyes were just as piercing, staring into his own eyes with a depth he hadn’t seen in anyone else, a depth that displayed her thoughts and feelings like open windows.

After taking in her appearance, it wasn’t long before he took her into his arms. He wanted to pick her up and swing her around, but the bathroom provided little space, so he settled for simply holding her close. He buried his head into the crook of her neck, breathing in her familiar scent as he nuzzled his face further into her sun-kissed skin.

She wound her arms around his neck, the familiar sensation causing goosebumps to form on his body. He left feather light kisses across her skin, creating a burning trail up her neck and across her jaw line before kissing her for the first time in months. Their lips moved in sync, and if it were possible, Kennedy pulled her closer to his body.

Emery was the first to pull away, a shy smile on her rosy lips as she looked up at Kenny. Her smile was beautiful, the most amazing he had ever seen. Her perfectly straight rows of teeth seemed to glisten in the light as she pulled back her lips the slightest bit. His eyes lingered on her for a long time, memorizing every inch of skin that covered her high cheek bones and heart shaped face, making a blush form in the apple of her cheeks. Kennedy chuckled at the sight, only making her blush deepen as she buried her head into his chest. Kennedy sighed in content, kissing the top of her head.

Emery felt flushed, heat emanating from every part of her body and pooling in the bottom of her stomach. The way he was looking at her made the ever-persistent butterflies in her stomach flutter even faster. Sure, guys in New York looked at her, but they didn’t really see her, not like Kennedy did. Kennedy looked at her like he could see into her soul, glancing past her physical appearance and going deeper, looking at her likes and dislikes, her hopes and dreams, looking at what she was made of, not just her outer appearance.

“I missed you so much, Em,” he breathed out. He felt the vibrations in her chest as she laughed, it sounded so much better in person than it did over the phone. She let her quiet laughter die down before saying,

“Like I didn’t know, you left me ten messages on my phone.” Kennedy’s mouth formed a pout at her words, his lower lip jutting out childishly.

“I was just making sure you were gonna show up; is that a crime?” he questioned. Emery looked up at him through her lashes, resisting the urge to kiss the pout off of his lips as she ran her hands through the birds nest atop his head.

“Like I would miss the chance to be back in your arms,” she muttered. Kennedy smiled, shaking his bangs out of his eyes before dipping his head lower and catching Emery’s lips in another kiss. He smiled as her hand caressed his neck in a loving way, and his grip around her tightened. He loved the feeling that being in her arms gave him, the tingles it sent throughout his body. It was better than any rush he got from being on stage, from any smile he got from fans. This was better than his dreams or his aspirations because this was real, this was something he didn’t have to reach or aspire for.

This is what falling in love felt like, he was sure, this is what it felt like to be alive.