Holding On To Love (2 page)

I blushed again. Damn cheeks!

"You are so damn sweet," I said before taking another drink of champagne.

"Ally?" He looked serious. "Can I ask you something?"

Uh-oh.

A million thoughts raced through my head and my heart began pounding wildly in my chest, but Daniel interrupted with our dessert. "May I get you anything else, tonight?"

"No. Thank you, Daniel. This will be fine," Andrew replied. I loved the way he always sounded so professional – so in control.

"What were you going to ask, Andrew?" my heart fluttered as I spoke. I didn’t really know where this was headed and didn’t want to delay the inevitable – whatever that was.

"We have had our ups and downs. Been through thick and thin," he paused briefly taking a draw from his glass. "You know I love you more than anything, right?"

Oh. Crap!

"Yes, of course. Is that even a question? Is that what you wanted to ask me? How silly." I responded blankly.

"Ally," he paused again, clearing his throat. All of a sudden he looked nervous. Where was my confident Andrew? What was going on?

"Allyson Monroe," he swallowed and slid from under the table and dropped to one knee.

My heart fluttered. I took an audible gasp of air. "Will you make me the happiest man alive by becoming my wife?"

My breath faltered, my heart raced, right along with my mind.

Is this what I want? I love him. Yes, I love him. Yes, this is what I want! Yes!

Only I hadn't said it out loud and Andrew was still on one knee holding a tiny red velvet box in his hand, which was trembling ever so slightly. The huge diamond sparkled in the dim light. It had to be at least 2 carats. I moved my eyes from the gorgeous ring up to his handsome face. My eyes met his.

"Yes!" I squealed and threw my arms around him. "Yes! Yes, I will marry you, Andrew Raleigh!" I cupped his face with my hands, completely forgetting that we were in a restaurant. He stood, wrapping his arms around my waist and raising me with him. Giving me the biggest smile I had ever seen, he held my gaze and then bent down and gave me the softest, most romantic kiss I had ever experienced. It was like he was promising me a million things with that one act. I hoped he felt my promises back. When I came back down to earth, everyone in restaurant was applauding.

Andrew placed the glistening platinum and diamond solitaire on my left hand and turned to our newfound fan club. "She said YES!", he exclaimed. He took my hand in his and held it up for everyone to see. Yep, I said 'yes' and I meant it.

"Have you talked to your brother lately?" Kennedy, my best friend and roommate asked.

I dropped the curling iron on my vanity and turned to face her. "No. Why?"

She looked like a kid in a candy store, grinning ear to ear. "He's doing a gig at some bar in town," she said, clapping her hands together like a six year old. She raised one perfectly groomed eyebrow. "So, wanna go?"

I smiled at her childlike display, completely unamused. "Wait. What about Bryan? I thought you two were still...uh, together." I knew better than to ask her that question. Kennedy liked to keep her options open since she had a new 'friend with benefits' every month.

She shrugged and replied, "Yeah. He's incredible in bed, don't get me wrong, but I don't see it lasting too much longer." In Kennedy terms— that meant she was getting bored and Bryan would be ancient history by the end of the week.

"So when is it?" I asked, changing the subject quickly.

"Tomorrow night," she squealed, pulling her phone from her back pocket.
"He texted you?" I asked, watching her move her beautifully manicured fingers across the screen as she searched.

She grinned, blushed slightly and added, "Does it bother you that Zac texts me?" There was concern in her voice.

"No, not at all," I replied, jealousy written all over my face. "Are you and Zac sleeping together or something? Because, to be quite honest with you—" I hesitated, not entirely sure how to phrase what I was trying to say. "He's kind of known as being a man-whore, just saying." I picked my curling iron back up, faced the mirror and continued my attempt to tame the long blonde tresses of hair that framed my face and shoulders.

"Oh my God, Ally. No! It's not like that at all," she exclaimed. "We're just friends, you know that." She gave me her best I’m-so-innocent-face, emerald eyes gleaming.

"Uh-huh," I nodded in false agreement, setting the curling iron down again.

"I'm serious, Ally, he only texts me when his band is in town. I swear.” She placed two fingers to her forehead, "Girl Scout's honor."

"Is there even such a thing?" I asked, letting out a snort.

"Probably not, but who gives a shit?" she said, yanking clothes from their hangers in my closet. "Which one?" she asked, holding up two shirts. I barely glanced at the two before returning to the mascara I was diligently applying. "The black one," I said flatly, my mouth in an ‘O’, the way you have to do when applying mascara.

"You always say the black one." she huffed, tossing imaginary locks over her shoulder. In reality, her hair was short, spiky and coal black with indigo highlights. She closely resembled Tinker-Bell, that is if Tinker-Bell had black hair and tattoos.

"No, I don't," I replied, quickly questioning what she'd said. "Do I?" I dropped the mascara back into my makeup bag and turned to look at her.

"As a matter of fact, you do," she bounced, as she held the navy blue v-neck to her chest. "I like this one better, it goes with my new stilettos."

I had no idea which shoes she was referring to. All I know is that Kennedy had about two-hundred pairs in her closet. The girl was obsessed with buying shoes.

"Okay," I muttered, not really paying any attention.

She mumbled something under her breath I couldn't quite make out and skipped off to her room.

I sorted through the heap of clothes on my bed left by Kennedy. I pulled two tops from the pile. A glittery teal tank and a black and white, plaid button down. Holding the two to my chest, I decided the button down was the safe choice for our impromptu bowling night. I pulled on a pair of dark skinny jeans, buttoned my top and rummaged through my closet for a pair of black ballet flats.

"Kennedy! Let's go, we're gonna be late!" I shouted down the hall towards my best friend's room, tugging on the heel of my shoe.

I heard her grunt and let out a sigh, "I'm having a hell of a time getting these jeans over my ass!"

I laughed, picturing her on her back using pliers to get the zipper up. "Do you need some help?"

Another grunt, "Nope! I think I've got it now!"

"Bryan is gonna kill—" Before I could finish my sentence, Kennedy skipped into my room and twirled.

"Whatcha think? Hot, right?" She sang melodically while she spun on her heels.

I giggled, walked over and put my hands on either shoulder to stop her in place. "Yes, very hot, Miss Allen. Now let's go."

Stopping briefly at the front door, I plucked the key chain from it's hook and swung the door open. The blazing summer air filled my lungs and I could already feel sweat beading on my forehead. Kennedy slid past me and sashayed down the concrete pathway in front of our townhouse. I clicked the unlock button as we reached the dark blue SUV. We climbed inside, buckling our seat belts, before I turned the key in the ignition. The engine purred as I reversed the four-door beast on wheels, checking my mirrors and blind spots three or four times, before pulling completely out of the designated parking space.

"You're such a freak sometimes." She said turning in her seat to face me.

"I'm just extra careful. It's not that big a deal." I responded dryly.

We slowly made our way across town, considering the amount of rush hour traffic.

Kennedy flipped on the radio and scanned through the channels until settling on one playing "Madness" by Muse. "Oh yeah, I love this song, his voice is so sexy."

I laughed as she mouthed the lyrics and held her hand like an imaginary microphone.

"So, I totally forgot to tell you what happened to me today at the tattoo shop," Kennedy said flipping the visor mirror down to check her lipstick.

"Please don't tell me it was that old dude coming back to get his 'I heart Mom' tat redone for the umpteenth time,"

"Ha! No, but it was almost as bad," she giggled. "So, I get back from lunch around noon and there's a girl in the waiting room looking through a book of butterfly tattoos. Wren said the girl insisted on having me do her tat, so I agreed and brought her back to my chair. She picked out a simple tribal butterfly and tells me she wants it on her hip. The whole time, I'm thinking that she can't be older than sixteen and when I mentioned it to her, she whipped out an ID, that's clearly a fake."

I nodded, "So what'd you do? I hope you told her to kick rocks."

"Well, no, not exactly. I felt bad for the poor girl. She got kicked out of her parent's place and was living with her brother, which turns out, I've done most of his artwork."

I understood why Kennedy had a soft spot for the girl. It seemed like it was just yesterday, when we ditched our sixth period class during our sophomore year so Kennedy could get her first tattoo. The tattoo artist didn't even card her, but eyed me like I would rat him out for giving a fifteen year old girl a tattoo. She wound up getting a rose entwined with a vine of ivy on her shoulder. I held her hand for two and a half hours, she only winced few times when the gun made it's way over her shoulder blade. She told me later that it "hurt like hell", but kept her cool in the presence of the "smokin' hot tattoo dude". Ever since that day, I guess you could say, she caught tattoo fever. She kept notebooks full of sketches and drawings, and was always getting caught by our teachers for drawing in class. I think she has over twenty tattoos, although most are covered up by clothing and I've only seen a few. I, on the other hand, do not even possess a tattoo. I could barely stand getting my ears pierced when I was ten. I'm not a big fan of pain and have learned over the years that I have a low pain tolerance.  

"Anyway, so she pulls the sob story of the century and of course I give in. I'm halfway through the outline of the butterfly and her brother comes bursting through the door yelling for his sister. The girl freaks out, makes me turn my gun off and asks where she can hide. I showed her to the back office and shut the door. When I came out, the dude is standing there glaring at me like he's gonna kick my ass. And you know, Kennedy don't play that game. He starts yelling at me, grabs my arm and calls me a 'fucking psycho bitch' for tatting up a sixteen year old. He had to have been on drugs or something. The guy was a fucking time-bomb!"

"Holy shit, really?"

"Yeah, and it gets better. He threatens to call the cops and have me arrested. So, Wren steps in and tells him to leave or she'll have Gage escort him. And, well, you know Gage, he's just a big teddy bear that would never hurt a fly. But he can seriously scare the shit out of anyone with just one look."

"He is pretty intimidating," I agreed, remembering the first time I met Gage.

He's massive, about six-four, maybe three hundred pounds or more, and every inch of his body is covered in tattoos, even his face and bald head. Kennedy started working for Gage four years ago as a receptionist while she attended art school. After months of pestering, Gage finally agreed to teach her the fine art of tattooing and she dropped out of school to pursue what she loved most. She only works three days a week and is consistently booked solid. 

She continued, blotting her lips on a tissue and flipping the mirror back into place, "Gage comes around the corner as soon as he heard Wren, grabs the guy by the neck and shoves him out the front door. I'm pretty sure the kid pissed his pants, the look on his face was classic." She said, laughing. "So, I go back to the office and the girl looks completely mortified. She apologizes profusely and promises to leave, but I couldn't let her go with half a butterfly outline, so I ended up finishing it and—" she paused, rummaging through her purse. "she gave me these." Holding up three hundred dollar bills.

"Whoa!" I said eying the money.

"I know, right? Pretty awesome day, minus the drama of course." She said fanning herself with the crisp bills.

I nodded in agreement. I worried for Kennedy sometimes. She's always been so outgoing, the kind of girl who would actually jump off a bridge if I asked her to. We've been best friends since our freshman year in high school. We only lost touch for a few years when I moved to Colorado for college. But my life had other plans for me and I needed my best friend's shoulder to cry on, so I moved back to Arizona and we've been inseparable since. Kennedy is my rock, without her, I'm sure I wouldn't be here today. 

We laughed and sang our hearts out during the remainder of our drive and finally reached the bowling alley's parking lot. We made our way row by row until I settled on a parking space at the outer edge of the lot. This did not please Kennedy, who was wearing three and a half inch navy blue and white, polka-dot stilettos. She could have passed as a fifties pin-up girl tonight. 

"I can't believe you're gonna make me hoof it all the way to the door from bum fuck Egypt." She whined, adjusting her purse on her shoulder.

"It's not that far. Don't be such a wuss." I said, turning toward her while locking the SUV's doors.

It turned out to be about a hundred feet to the blacked-out double doors that adorn the front of the massive concrete building.

We walked through the bowling alley's doors and were instantly greeted by a whoosh of cool air and the mixture of beer and stale cigarettes. The familiar sound of the wooden pins crashing against the back of the pin deck filled the low ceiling.

Every lane was occupied. Mostly teenagers, but I did notice a few brave older couples who seemed to ignore the constant chatter from the scantily clad high school girls that surrounded them.

Kennedy eyed Bryan who was waving his arms over his head as if we were an incoming plane. "There's Bryan," she squeaked, mimicking his gesture.

I followed her gaze and spotted a smiling Bryan and what I assumed was his friend, who was sitting at the scoring kiosk with his gazed glued on the screen in front of him. Kennedy wrapped her arm around my waist, pulling me forward towards the two men.

"Hello ladies," Bryan said in a mock sexy voice as he grabbed Kennedy by the waist and kissed her deeply.

I blushed at their clear public display of affection.

"Uh...Hey...You must be Allyson." The extraordinarily tall, yet slender guy stood with his hand stretched in greeting.

Whoa, he must be at least six foot five, maybe more.

"My friends call me, Ally," I replied taking his hand in mine. "It's nice to meet you...uh—" I paused, realizing we hadn't been formally introduced yet.

A wide smile stretched across his face causing his amber eyes to squint behind his thick black framed glasses. "Seth," he said, as if he knew what I was thinking.

"Nice to meet you, Seth." I said with a forced smile.

Oh. I'm gonna kill Kennedy. Clever girl, I see right through you.

I decided small talk was my best remedy for keeping my cool until I could get Kennedy alone. "So, Seth. How do you and Bryan know each other?" I asked, staring daggers at Kennedy who was standing behind Seth with her arms around Bryan's neck, smiling at me.

I scrunched my face and motioned, using my index finger, a slice across my neck, before running my hand through my hair. My blood boiled as her smile grew wider. Thankfully, Seth had been pre-occupied with his ramblings and hadn't seen my gesture towards Kennedy.