Page 24 of More Than Scars

“I wish you could see the man that I do. You’re so much more than your scars, and though stage make-up may hide them,” one side of his mouth curled up, “yeah, that suggestion wasn’t lost on me, but it’s not necessary. Don’t hide who you are, embrace it. Draw strength from it and continue on the path you’re going down. Become the best man you can be, and who knows, maybesomeday your ability to not hide your scars may help another in a similar mindset find their inner peace.”

Before I was able to make a move, Bowie’s lips were on mine. A bit forceful, but I wouldn’t have had it any other way. The emotions hit him hard, and his reaction surprised both of us. When I nearly fell back from the force of it, he took that as me pulling away.

“S-sorry, but I thought…”

I’d not give him the chance to second-guess my thoughts about this, it was right and everything I’d wished for before coming out here tonight. I pressed my lips to his again. The entire time, my hand remained on his cheek, my thumb softly tracing the scars as my tongue gently nudged his lips until he let me in. Time stood still while our tongues danced, though all too soon, it ended as our lungs fought for air.

“You thought right.” In a brazen move, I pressed my lips to each of the scars on his face and down his neck, not allowing him a second to protest. “You’re beautiful, and I’ll not hear otherwise. No more putting yourself down and no more hiding from me. Understood?” A gentle unsure nod was all I received, and for now, that was fine. “Why don’t you show me what you were working on before I interrupted you?”

That had the desired effect I’d hoped for, and the smile returned to his handsome face as he picked up his guitar. “It’s still rough, but I’ve had the lyrics down for a while now.” His fingers easily slid over the strings as the melody filled the night air. I returned to my seat beside his, head lulled back as I absorbed the kiss, our talk, and his soft song. Not a cloud to be seen, the moonlight lit the sky while the firepit flames cast an ethereal glow over Bowie as he played.

So alluring, so angelic.

The image before me was where heartfelt poems were born from, and hell, lyrics too, for that matter. How many artists wrote of such life-altering moments? Every. Single. One. Of. Them. Times when the feels hit them right in the gut. I couldn’t recall ever experiencing a more perfect night. No expensive date or fancy trinkets given with false hopes behind them. Real. Thiswas so freaking real. Just me, the man winding his way around my heart, a guitar, and, quite blessedly, perfect weather.

I wasn’t foolish enough to believe the future held all fun and games for us, but at least it appeared I may have a shot at sharing it with Bowie.

Fucking hell, how my heart hoped for that.

Chapter Eleven

Bowie

I ached. It was crazy to burn like fire coursed through my veins after a few simple kisses, but it had been three years since anyone had touched me the way he had, let alone kissed me the way he’d kissed me back. For a moment, I’d feared I’d fucked up, slamming our lips together, but I’d been consumed by need and a desperation I’d never felt before, not even the first time I’d fumbled around in the front seat of a car with someone. It wasn’t justthe kiss that had left me aching and needy though, it was the way he’d touched me. Slowly, gently tracing my scars until he’d erased my fear bit by bit, brushed to the wayside by those sweet caresses and the words that accompanied them. That he saw beauty where I only saw wreckage was a struggle to comprehend, but I’d learned young how to look someone in the eyes and take the measure of them, and there had been no lies in those brilliant blue depths, just heat, like he’d been waiting for the chance to put his hands on me.

I’d felt the same but never noticed him harboring the same urges that had plagued me since the day I’d been chosen as the band’s guitarist and almost convinced myself that he’d been flirting with me. I’d almost made an idiot out of myself and tried flirting back too, something I hadn’t done since before my accident. I was pretty sure I was rusty at everything and all points in between. I’d rushed the kiss, nearly tackling him in the process, and I’d failed to use my words to make sure kissing him was okay before I’d done it. I could have blown everything in that single moment that I’d been so desperate to reconnect again. What he’d given me in response…did he even know how much it meant to me that he didn’t want me to hide my face to make myself and the world more comfortable, and what he’d said, about using the music and my presence up on the stage as a way of sending a message to others, to let them know that it was okay to just be themselves, well that resonated with me, especially when there were times when I could have used a dose of that myself.

Now, standing in the shower, thinking about that kiss and the way my body had lit up the moment he’d caressed my face, I found my hand drifting south, circling my length, giving a gentle squeeze and a tug, until I groaned, grateful for the water pouring over my head to help stifle it. So what if I let myself drift completely into fantasy for several minutes? These past three years I hadn’t even allowed myself to dream about someone wanting me, and now, well, my mind was alive with possibilities and images of getting down on my knees for him while his fingers carded through my hair as I sucked his length. Didn’t take much to get me coming, just a few tugs and a very vivid imagination. Panting, I leaned against the wall and took the time to collect myself before I finished my shower.

This time it wasn’t Pressley I ran into while crossing the hallway, it was Tony, who eyed me with the mother hen look he got sometimes when he knew I hadn’t been taking care of myself.

“You better not be planning to stay up all night again,” he cautioned me. “And don’t even think about being up early tomorrow, it’s Saturday. We’ve got two days to rest, recharge, and work out a game plan for Monday, with an emphasis on rest. The last thing we need is for you to wind up with a bout of insomnia again, not when the crash puts you out of commission for at least three whole days. We had a deal, remember? Six hours minimum every night, eight on the rare times you skip a night like you did yesterday. It’s past midnight now, I don’t want to see you in the kitchen before nine. Don’t wanna hear you up and moving around either, got it?”

“Yes mom.”

“You know I’ll call her too, don’t even try me,” he warned. “I’ll get Pressley involved too. You heard what he said about keeping him in the loop. You not getting the sleep you need constitutes a concern, so consider last night your one pass, okay? I’m serious about this Bowie, you know how bad your nightmares get when you haven’t slept for a while.”

“I know,” I replied, feeling sufficiently chastised and rightfully so. There wasn’t a goddamned thing he’d said to me that neither my parents nor my doctors hadn’t constantly reminded me of, especially once I’d been able to go back to living on my own again. Hell, I’d practically begged him to keep on my ass about those things after the last run of sleepless nights followed by near endless nightmares, which had driven me closer to the breaking point than I’d ever been. It had taken some prescription-level sleeping pills and adherence to a strict bedtime regime to get myself back on track again. I did not need that happening here, not when an issue like that could lead to a disruption in the practice schedule that had been laid out for us.

He appraised me from head to toe, then nodded.

“He touched my face,” I muttered, meeting Tony’s gaze across the hall. “And not just for a moment either. He caressed my scars and called me beautiful and told me that he didn’t want me to hide anymore. I-I kissed him. I was just so blown away by the whole moment. One minute he was telling methat I didn’t need stage makeup or any other kind of prop, and the next, I was crushing our lips together like an overexcited prom date. I don’t know what came over me. I haven’t been that forward with someone since before the accident. I told him about it too. What happened and all. Guess after he saw the wreckage firsthand the other night and didn’t run screaming, I figured that it would be okay to open up to him.”

“Thank Jupiter for that!” Tony declared. “I was beginning to wonder when you’d get your head out of your ass and see that the only thing he cares about is making sure that you’re settling in here and are mentally prepared for the upcoming practice sessions, which you wouldn’t have been if you’d kept on worrying so much about whether or not those scars were showing. Whether you recognized it or not, that was a huge step you took tonight when you sat down at the table across from Claude instead of waiting to make sure I was going to be sitting across from you. He needed to hear what you had to say to him. You’ve been him, and I know you have regrets about the way you acted. Getting him to nip it in the bud before we get rolling will only help us come together as a band. You’ve got experience in that department. I don’t, and you heard Tibby the other night, he’s never been in a band that lasted more than six months, so we’re going to be looking to you for leadership in Imminent. Our mentors can only do so much.”

He'd hit that nail on the head, and eloquently too. “I know. I think I recognized that at the barbeque this past weekend. He was the best drummer of the lot, not by a large margin, but I could still see it, even if his attitude totally put me off. I could see his passion too, he loves beating away on those skins and takes a lot of pride in his playing. I got the impression, for just a moment, that he’d been hoping for a crumb of praise and was hurt when he didn’t get it.”

“Man, looking at the way Diamond handled things today, I think a guy has to be next level exceptional to get even a good job out of him. Like, seriously, he doesn’t look like much impresses him, though I doubt it takes much to trip his pissed-off button. That glare he shot Claude for crowing like a fuckin’ peacock, that’s not a look I’d ever want directed at me.”

“Dude, if he ever looked at me like that, I’d just start digging my own grave and be done with it,” I admitted. “And would probably try and drag the dirt back over myself too. No need for him to go stomping me down an extra three feet just for annoying the piss out of him.”

We snickered at that, because Diamond had seriously been intimidating, then said goodnight, with plans for nothing but vegging out and strategizing for the weekend to come.

Too bad Monday morning blew in like a hurricane, complete with a bit of an alarm fiasco and a coffee pot disaster to boot. Not only had we abused the snooze buttons on our alarms come morning after a Sunday night jam session where Tony and I shared some of the songs we’d written together with Pressley and Wolf, who’d popped over to enjoy beautifully grilled steaks and baked potatoes with us, but Pressley had also forgotten to turn his coffee mug right-side up and wasted a whole Keurig pod and several cleaning wipes, dispensing his coffee all over the bottom of the mug. Snarly didn’t even begin to describe his mood by the time we’d hurried to get ready and piled into his truck, though me riding in the front seat with him seemed to mellow him out a bit. At least until we hit traffic.

“Where did you get your license, a Cracker Jack box!” Pressley snarled as the car in front of us started with the left turn signal on, then midway out of our lane, switched directions without switching the directional, and shot into the opposite lane, forcing a smaller car to brake and the driver to lay on their horn.

“Probably got it in lieu of a participation trophy just for showing up to drivers ed,” Tony grumbled from the backseat.