Tessa Teevan - Incinerate

“Well?” he asks me, breaking my train of thought. He’s watching me intently, and I have to calm my racing heart before I can even begin to think of responding. Not knowing what to say, I down half my wine in one big gulp.

“That…that was incredible. I had no idea you could sing. Or even play like that,” I tell him, being more than honest.

Grinning sheepishly, he shrugs. “Not many people do.”

“What song was that? I’ve never heard it before and it was beautiful.”

“It’s called “Say Something” by Great Big World. My cousin’s a music blogger and always sent me the up-and-coming music when I was in Afghanistan. Something about that song stuck with me and I just really wanted to learn how to play it,” he says, apparently trying to downplay the meaning behind it.

“I’ll have to check it out on iTunes. I loved it.” I can’t wait to get to my room now to hear the original version, although I’m kicking myself for not stealthily recording Knox’s performance.

“Want to hear something else?” he asks, and I nod.

I have to laugh when he launches into Kip Moore’s “Beer Money”, and the mood completely changes. We spend the next hour or so jamming out—well, he does—and he even takes requests. Cracking me up with his rendition of Boy Named Sue, I can’t help but smile at the fact he remembers that I love that song. Once he finishes, he grins at me before standing up.

“Refill?” he asks, pointing to my wine glass.

“Only if you promise to keep serenading me, Rugged.” He grins at the use of his nickname, something I’ve decided to embrace after Jace spilled the beans. “And I want more new country, even if you claim not to like it!”

Shaking his head, he goes back inside. A few moments later, he comes back out, and I grin when I spot the cowboy hat on his head.

He hands me my wine glass and sets a fresh bottle down in between us. “I figured if I’m going to be singing country I’d better get in character.”

“Oh, I definitely dig it. Now you’re not just Rugged Man, but you’re Rugged Cowboy,” I tease, loving the look on him.

He plays for a while, and I’m dying when he starts singing “Country Girl.” I hope he’ll get up and shake it for me. Not disappointing me, he gets up from his chair, standing in front of me. As soon as he gets to the chorus, he slowly turns around so his ass is practically in my face. He starts moving his hips back and forth, doing some weird sort of gyrating motion, but it honestly just looks like he’s dry humping the air. Poor guy does not know how to shake it without a warm body right in front of him. He stops when I fall into a fit of giggles, doubling over with laughter.

“What?! Isn’t that why you ladies love that Luke Bryan guy? He’s always shaking his ass on those awards shows.”

Trying to contain myself, I stand up beside him. “Yes, Knox, that’s definitely part of the Luke Bryan appeal, but he’s a hip-gyrating professional. That…whatever that was you were just doing…looked more like you were trying to have sex with some invisible person and it was not pretty.”

“Hey, give me some credit. I only use my hips in that way when there’s a hot chick in front of or beneath me.”

“You’re such a perv,” I tell him, smacking him on the arm as I take the guitar out of his hands. Moving around so that I’m behind him, I place my hands on his hips. “Roll,” I order, and he begins moving his hips as if he’s using a hula hoop.

This clearly isn’t going to work, so I move to the front of him, my back to his chest. Taking his hands, I place them on my waist.

“Follow my movements with your hands, okay?” He nods, and I start to move.

Pushing my hip first out to the right and then to left, I slowly gain momentum, rolling my ass and simultaneously circling my hips. It’s no different than if we were dirty dancing at a club, but I’m forcing him to feel the rhythm in my movements.

His fingers are digging into my skin, and I try my hardest not to brush up against his groin and make this something it’s not. But god, I fucking want to, and that part of me wins out.

Pushing back ever so slightly, I barely allow my ass to graze him as I continue to move, but apparently he has a different idea. The hands on my waist pull me into him, and I almost gasp when I feel the hard erection nestle against the thin cotton of my pajama shorts.

He leans in and I feel his lips against my ear. “Show me again, sweetheart. I think I’m a slow learner and definitely need another demonstration.”

Shaking my head, I give in. “Pay attention this time, cowboy.”

His lips are still there, and I can feel the smile that spreads over them. “Don’t you mean Rugged Cowboy?”

I ignore him as I place my hands over his once again and begin to show him just how to shake it. It must be easier for women since we’re always in front anyways. We spend the next few minutes in complete silence, and I’m so glad that the sun has set so his neighbors aren’t getting a show. His hands flex and grip with the various movements I make, and when I try to move away from him, he holds me still, forcing me to grind against him as he tries to follow my movements.

I finally have to pull away from him because if I don’t, I’m going to be begging him to take me right here on the deck. Turning around, I look up at him, fully prepared to make him show me what he’s learned. Instead, I’m quick enough to catch him adjusting himself in his shorts, and I can’t help the small cheer I feel inside me at knowing that I made him hard.

When he catches me watching him, he shrugs and grins at me sheepishly. “Hey, there was a hot ass rubbing up against him. What do you expect?”

Not responding, I sit back down in my chair and pick up my wine glass. Twirling my finger, I motion for him to stand in front of me. “All right, cowboy, show me what you learned.”

Placing his hands on his hips, he first moves to the left then to the right. His movements are so jerky, not fluid or flowing at all, and it’s almost painful to watch. He’s definitely hot, but this guy cannot shake his hips for anything. Knowing how good he felt when he was behind me, I realize that he can only dance well if he has a partner. When he was holding my hips, he was moving his own smoothly, rolling with mine in perfect unison. Now? He just looks like a robot trying to do the hula hoop and it’s not working for him. When he catches me grinning into my wine glass, he stops.

“Laugh it up, sweetheart. Hell, I’m fucking glad I can’t shake it like a male stripper. I’d much rather have a pretty little thing in my arms than twerk it on stage.”

I nearly spit out my wine at his comment. “Did you seriously just say ‘twerk it’? Who are you, Hannah Montana? Please never use that term again in my presence.”

“Billy Ray’s kid? Is that her thing? Okay, scratch that from the record. Seriously, pretend I never said the word twerk.”

“Well, I guess we can take hip-gyrating country singer off your list of potential careers, but still, I’m amazed at your voice, Knox.”

Grinning at me, he picks his guitar back up and strums a few notes. “Thanks, sweetheart. Glad you enjoyed the performance. Any time you want an encore, just let me know.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I tell him, and I’m going to hold him to it.

I can’t help the yawn that surfaces. Even though I’ve been having a great time with him, I’m truly exhausted after the longest week at work. Following me when I head inside, he puts the guitar back where I found it.

“I’m going to head to bed, but thanks for the show, Knox,” I tell him as I rinse my wine glass out.

He comes over to the sink and sets his glass down on the counter. Leaning down, he places a chaste kiss on my cheek.

“Anytime, sweetheart.”

With that, he backs away, walking out of the room and leaving me alone. I grab my wine glass and decide to refill it, taking it back to my room. I immediately get on my computer and search for “Say Something.” When I hear the original version played with only the piano, I’m hooked. I immediately buy it on iTunes and put it on my phone.

Crawling into bed, I can’t help but put the song on repeat. It’s that beautiful. Drifting off to sleep, I hear nothing but Knox’s voice. A tear rolls down my face as I hear him singing these haunting words, wondering who, exactly, he was singing to and why it’s bothering me so much.

Charlie

WHAT THE hell was I thinking? With all the weirdness between Knox and me, I have no idea why I agreed to go on a date with someone I’m not even remotely interested in. I guess I was caught off guard when one of the guys at the gym, Chris, asked me out. It was the day after Megan showed up, and at the time it seemed like a good idea. Go out with someone, get my mind off the person that I really want. And Chris seems like a nice enough guy. He’s in a band I’ve seen play several times, and he’s really talented, so I figured, why not?

But now that I’m sitting in front of my vanity, applying the last bit of makeup before I’m picked up for my date, it seems like a foolish idea. Last night with Knox was amazing, and I feel closer to him after he let his guard down and played for me, showing me a little bit of his vulnerable side.

I’m really hoping I can get out of the house before he comes home. I don’t need him seeing my date, especially since I know they know each other.

The doorbell rings, and I thank the Lord that I’ll be gone before Knox gets home from work. Pinching my cheeks, I stand up and head towards the door, opening it.

Chris fills the doorway, handing me deep red roses. While they’re beautiful, I have to fight the urge to roll my eyes at the most cliché bouquet a girl can get. I know I need to adjust my attitude or I’m going to be a terrible date. Putting a smile on my face, I open the door wide, inviting him to come inside.