Read Wasted Heart for Free Online Page B

asks, one of his eyebrows arching in question.
    “No. ‘Minimalist’ is my word for the day. Trying to broaden my vocabulary. Large words, combined with my country accent, always throw people off,” I reply, winking at him and biting my bottom lip.
    He laughs, the sound stealing the very air I breathe. My body tightens, and things start waking up. Uh-oh.
    “You’re so crazy…,” he says, smiling at me, “but I love that about you. Let’s eat. I’m starving.” He walks over to the pizza and grabs a slice.
    I feel my eyes go big as saucers as I stand not two feet from him, frozen by his words. Did he just say the “L” word? No, I had to have misunderstood him. We’ve only known each other for three weeks. I need to move my feet before he turns around and finds me stupefied. Wait. I need two seconds to filter what he just said. It could be that he just used it in context of, “I love you like a sister” or “I love cupcakes.” It doesn’t have to mean that he’s saying that he’s “in love” with me. God, Syn. Are you crazy?
    My thoughts spur me into action. Reaching for my own slice of pizza and grabbing a can of soda, we both sit around my tiny table.
    “So, what did you do today?” he asks while picking his pepperonis off and eating them separately, one by one.
    I tell him about my boring day, well boring because I can’t tell him about the vivid daydreams I’ve had about him. With me. Us. Together. He tells me about watching his dad film some music interview and hoping, one day, that it’s him on the other side of the camera. He then talks about helping his grandfather on his horse farm this afternoon, something he enjoys.
    After we both inhale several slices of pizza, I resume my cross-legged position in the middle of my bed, grabbing up my guitar. He stands to open his case and sits back down in the chair with his. If you take away the breathtaking, sexual tension, it’s a comfortable friendship between us. We both tune our guitars in silence.
    “Want to hear what I’ve been working on?” he asks, giving me a shy smile. He strums a couple strings then begins to play, singing in that sexy voice of his. “…pure and sweet as the sunshine in the summer time. That’s my girl. Something worth fighting for.” The warmth of his voice calls to me, whispers to my soul.
    I know, in this instant, he will be famous one day. Tag will command audiences, capturing them with that velvet voice and timid smile of his. He’s the boy next door that every girl will dream about and every guy will want to be. A spike of energy courses through my body, again reminding me that I’ve never felt this way about anyone. It has to mean something. I’ve never felt that I was “saving” my virginity for marriage. What does “saving” myself mean anyway? It’s not like I have a golden patootie, but I’ve always told myself that I would wait for something extraordinarily special. Is this it? How do you know?
    “Earth to, Syn. Come in, Syn,” he taunts, trying to get my attention.
    “What?” I ask, shaking my head to clear my thoughts.
    “You spaced out on me. What do you think of the song? I really like the chord change in the middle, but I’m not sure whether to go back or not. What do you think?” he asks, looking back down to play it again.
    What do I think? I think he should put those pretty little lips right against mine. Quit talking. Stop singing. Make music instead of playing it. Should I make a move? What if he’s not feeling me? What if I have something black in between my teeth from the pizza? I close my mouth and run my tongue over my teeth, not feeling anything. God, my breath. Should I go use my toothbrush? I place my hand in front of my mouth and blow, discreetly trying to smell if it stinks.
    “Syn, look at me,” he says, standing and placing his guitar down then removing his hat. Taking only one step brings him right next to my bed. He sits down, the bed dipping underneath his weight