The Ever After of Ella and Micha

“Hey, where’d you go?” Ella asks me as Brody gives me an uneasy look and then walks away without saying a word.



“To get this,” I reply, holding up my fingers.



She takes my hand and runs her finger over the metal ring. “Did you seriously put an O-ring on your ring finger?”



I dazzle her with my most charming smile, the one I know makes her stomach somersault. “Now everyone knows I’m taken.”



She takes a sip of her drink and then licks her lips. “Such a shame. I was looking forward to kicking all the girls’ asses who hit on you tonight.”



“I bet you were,” I mumble as I lean forward and lick a drop of alcohol off her lip. “Bacardi, huh?”



She shrugs and angles her head back to take a large swallow. “I thought I’d have fun tonight. Get a little drunk.”



I eye her over warily. “I’m not sure I like that. Drunk Ella can sometimes be mean. And horny.”



“Hey.” She restrains a smile as her hand clamps down on my thigh, squeezing hard. “I’m not a mean drunk.”



I waver as I sip my beer. “I can remember a certain tantrum over a lost poker game. One where you drunkenly threw a chip at me.”



She narrows her eyes. “Only because you were being smug.”



“Smug because I won and got to see you naked.”



“Well, maybe I’ll get drunk enough tonight that you can see me naked. Just as long as you quit saying I’m a mean drunk.” She hops off the couch and my arm falls from her shoulder. “And by the way, you can be the same way when you get drunk.”



“What way?”



“Horny and mean.”



I raise my beer up and point a finger at it. “That’s why I’m sticking to these.” I slide my feet off the couch and stand up. “So what song do you want me to play tonight?”



She taps her finger against her lip and there’s a playful look in her green eyes. She’s already buzzed, which means I’m going to have my hands full tonight. “How about the one tattooed on your ribs? The one you said you wrote for me but I’ve never heard you play before?”



I automatically touch the side of my rib where the tattoo of the lyrics is hidden underneath the fabric of my shirt. “I’ve never sung that one out loud for anyone. And I’m not ready to.”



“Why not?”



“Because…” I pick at the damp beer label. “Because I wrote it for you.”



“Okay…” She frowns, confused. “Then play it for me now.”



I glance at the room packed with rowdy and drunk people. “I don’t think I can right now.”



“Why not?”



“Because it’s personal.” Because it means so much to me and the last thing I want to do is sing it to a room full people when I haven’t even sung it to her. Besides, I’m a little nervous to sing it for her because it’s intense.



She gives me the most lost look and I sigh, because I know I’m acting strange. “It’s just that when I wrote it, the lyrics kind of threw me off because it was the first time… that I realized I thought of you… like that.”



“But we both know how you feel now,” she says, looking at the metallic O-ring on my finger.



“I know that.” I stroke her cheekbone with my fingers. “And when I play it for the first time, I want it to be just you and me.”



“Like later tonight,” she asks, hopeful.



“Or maybe on our honeymoon,” I tell her and smile when her jaw drops. “What? Did you think I didn’t have anything planned?”



“But the wedding has been pushed back.” She cranes her neck and looks over her shoulder as more people enter the living room. “So if you had one planned, then how’d you move it?”



“Because I had it planned for a few weeks after yesterday, when we were supposed to get married.” I suddenly realize that if I go on tour my honeymoon plan has gone to shit. And I saved money to book it, skipping out on eating fast food and instead bringing my lunch—shit like that to get extra cash. A three-day cruise, which is a simple, normal kind of honeymoon and perfect for us since we didn’t really do simple or normal for most of our lives.



“So where are we going?” she wonders, intrigued, tucking in her elbow when a guy who I think is named Del walks by wearing a Santa hat and singing “We Wish You a Merry Christmas,” drunk off his ass and completely off key.



“No way. It’s a surprise,” I say, ushering her toward the front of the room when Ethan waves me over. Standing beside him is Jude Taylorsen, a pretty good bass player so I’m guessing they’re ready to roll. “I have to go play now.”



She clutches the cup as she stands in the crowd. It’s getting louder and smokier by the second. I know if it gets too packed in here furniture is going to get broken. I didn’t use to mind, but now I feel guilty and I make a mental note to kick everyone out before it gets to that point.



“And play that one song,” she shouts out as I back up toward where Ethan is chatting it up with Jude. “The one you played at the coffeehouse when I first came back from Vegas.”



I smile charmingly at her. “The one where you got all possessive on me?”



She sticks out her tongue. “Kenzie is a skank and a bitch. You should be grateful I saved your ass from that.”



I press my hand to my heart. “You were jealous. Admit it.”



She glares at me, but her lips itch to turn upward. “I was a little bit.”



“I know you were.” I wink and start to turn around.



“And if you want, you can play the cover for that song that was playing in the bathroom earlier,” she says. “I like that song.”



“Like the song?” I question, looking back at her from over my shoulder. “Or like the memory the song’s linked to?”



“Both,” she says simply and throws her head back to down her drink. The curves of her cleavage peek out of the top of her dress and I shake my head, knowing I’m not the only guy in the room staring at her. But then I smile, knowing I’m the only guy in the room who gets to be with her.



She lowers the cup from her mouth and gives me an accusing look, like she knows I was just staring at her breasts. I blink my gaze off her and head over to the microphone. I set my beer down on the floor next to the wall, pick up my guitar, and slide the strap over my shoulder, running my fingers along the initials I carved in the back. I got the guitar when I was thirteen at a yard sale for, like, five bucks. It was my first guitar and even though it took a bit to get the hang of it, I loved playing it. There’s something about music and lyrics that helps me express myself, even when it’s hard.



I was playing the first time I realized I had feelings for Ella, feelings that ran much deeper than just friend feelings. She was in the crowd dancing solo like she did a lot, her hands in the air, her hips rocking to the beat. I couldn’t take my eyes off her and I found myself wishing I was down there with her, touching and kissing every inch of her. It was that night I went home and wrote the lyrics that I eventually got tattooed on my ribs because it was the kind of moment filled with emotion and the lyrics I created about her needed to be marked on me forever.



It was the moment I realized I loved her, even if I wasn’t fully aware of it at the time, but only because I didn’t fully understand love yet. Looking back, though, I know the moment I penned the words there’d never be anyone else.



Ella was my one and only.



Chapter 7



Ella



I refuse to be the sad Ella tonight and dwell on things that aren’t making me happy, like my mom, her dark thoughts and fears—my dark thoughts and fears. I’m not going to think about my future either or the fact that I can’t seem to even get my portfolio started. Tonight it’s about having fun and watching Micha play, one of my favorite things in life. I am not going to sink down into a pit.



Micha starts out with the song he sang in the coffeehouse, just like I asked him to do. Sweaty bodies nearly suffocate me as I sway back and forth to the music. Lila’s standing beside me, gazing at Ethan pounding on the drums like he’s the love of her life. She’s wearing a sleeveless blue shirt and jeans, along with a pair of my boots.



“You look starstruck,” I shout over the music, fanning my face with my hand, my skin already getting damp with sweat. Even though it’s cold as death outside, there’s so many people packed in the small living room, the body heat alone makes it desert hot in the house.



She shrugs, her eyes fastened on the front of the room where the guys are playing. “I think I am.”



I shake my head and then capture her hand, feeling the alcohol smother any amount of anxiety surfacing. Lila laughs as I spin her around, holding my drink in my hand, ignoring the guy who shouts at me when I accidentally ram my elbow into his gut. Lila grasps onto her drink as she twirls around, trying not to spill any. I keep spinning her until the music stops and Micha’s voice flows over the room.



“Okay, this next one was requested by the only person I’ll take requests from.” He winks at me and some girl shouts out that she’ll do whatever he wants if he sings a song for her.



I turn around, scanning the crowd for the culprit and find her at the back of the room. A tall, curvy girl with dark hair, giving me a condescending look as she takes a sip of beer. Kenzie, the waitress from the coffeehouse. Go figure.



“I think someone wants their ass kicked tonight,” I state, targeting her with a look. She went to school with me and knows what I’m capable of. It’s been a while since I’ve gotten into a fight, but it doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten how.



Lila claps her hands and jumps up and down. “Oh my God, we should totally take her on together.” She turns to me with a smile on her face. “I’ll hold her back and you pull her hair.”



I gape at her. “Who are you?”



“Someone who wants to find out what it’s like to get in a fight.” She beams, making fists. “Come on, Ella, be my Mister Miyagi.”