One Plus One Ch 01

*Chapter One*

It was a few days before Christmas break of my freshman year of college. I knew I wasn't going home. I hadn't been home for Thanksgiving break either. I couldn't face seeing Ahmad, Tatum, or my father.

The fact that I'd caught the love of my life and my

sister

having sex was not something that I could get past easily, and the heartache that I felt because of my father; that wasn't something I thought I might ever get over. My daddy had been everything to me and the parts that he hadn't filled, Ahmad had.

It was raining. I sat in my dorm room having nothing to do, which had been my life since the past summer. I was tired of thinking about the problems plaguing my life.

I noticed the flyer that sat on my desk by my bed. I picked it up and read it again. Finally, I decided to go to see Peyton's band perform. It had to be better than sitting in silence and endlessly cogitating on thoughts that only caused me pain.

Since I'd met him in my Sociology class on the first day of the semester; I'd known that Peyton was interested in more than simply being

friends

with me, although that's the way he came off.

Peyton was gorgeous and more than that, he absolutely knew it. He was 6ft1 of lightly tanned skin. He had nice eyes. Hazel is probably the best way to describe them. They could appear green, golden, as well as brown. He had short and spiky, black hair and a smile that I'm sure made many panties come right off, all of the time. Some guys had bedroom eyes. Peyton had a bedroom voice. It was deep and raspy. He was from California by way of Tennessee. He had lived a few other places, including New York and New Jersey, but he still managed to keep a southwest tinted accent.

That first day, I noticed how attractive he was, and I also picked up on the fact that he was undoubtedly a pussy hound. With Peyton, it could be sensed. He'd also been entirely too likeable. He'd made me smile, a real smile, for the first time in months, two minutes after he introduced himself to me. I'd thought it was best not to get too familiar with him. In my state of mind, I'd end up doing something I'd no doubt spend the rest of my days regretting.

I'd been telling him that I would come see him since the first time he'd asked me in the second week of classes, but something had always come up, namely my decision to not hang out with Peyton too much.

We studied together sometimes, so I saw him often enough; always in public places, the library, campus hangouts. He always shamelessly flirted with me even though I'd told him when we first started speaking, that I'd had a boyfriend. I didn't,

anymore

. I just told him that. He made me feel uncomfortable in ways that I was not at all used to.

Peyton always had a cluster of women around him vying for his attention, like he was a Rock Star or something. His constant flock of women was probably the most annoying thing about him. That was one thing I had not expected to see attending Princeton, a bunch of airheaded-acting, bimbo- behaving females. One of the first things I'd learned about being at an Ivy League school was how very disillusioning it was to actually attend as opposed to all of the hoopla surrounding the fact that you

actually

got in. Not that I was complaining. Ivy League looked fantastic on job applications and I wanted to go places in life. It was the path to take.

I didn't feel like fighting my way through the throng of them in my current state of mood. Still, I desperately needed to get out of my head and away from sitting in my dorm room with nothing to study, alone with my thoughts, anger, depression; all of it.

I put on a sweater dress and knee high boots that I'd never worn before. Both the dress and the boots had been a gift from my favorite cousin and best friend, Rashida. She along with my best friend Bonet were the only two people I had been keeping in regular contact with since I'd left for school. Rashida was a year older than me. She was a sophomore at Spellman. Bonet and I were the same age. She went into the Air Force right after graduation. She was being stationed in Japan for the next year.

After checking that I looked nice enough; I left my room with my keys, jacket, and the flyer in my hand.

***

Peyton's band played on The Strip. I never hung out there. I didn't really hang out anywhere. I was in New Jersey by way of Atlanta, studying at Princeton University on a full academic scholarship. Everyone I loved or hated as was the case, was in Atlanta or had left shortly after high school. I hadn't become close with anyone from school so far, not even my roommate.

I got into the packed venue with the pass that Peyton had given me when I'd promised to come a few days before.

When Peyton wasn't being flocked by his many female admirers he hung around with the members of his band Sean, Matthew, and Caleb.

They were all very handsome guys, but Caleb, Peyton's best friend, was probably the most beautiful male I'd ever seen. He was even more gorgeous to me than Peyton, and that was saying a lot. Caleb was slightly taller than Peyton. He had cornflower blue eyes that only showed shades of grey if you were close enough to him to be able to see them clearly. I'd seen them clearly the first time I'd looked at him. He'd sat a seat over from me on the opposite side of Peyton the first day of class.

Caleb wore his overly long and curly hair down around his shoulders. It hung all over the place, like he didn't care about it, but it was obvious that he did. It was shiny and very healthy looking; a very light shade of blonde. I could smell his shampoo from where I sat. It somehow complimented the cologne that he wore. He had these classically chiseled features you'd expect to see on an actor in those old Hollywood films. James Dean definitely came to mind. Caleb had a very arrogant, standoffish, could-care- less, air about him. He'd spoken politely to me, barely glancing in my direction. Not that I'd expected or wanted him to.

I'd thought that maybe from the way that he was dressed, and his behavior that he was some snobby, super-rich guy with a superiority complex. I was told that he'd come from some of the oldest money in America. Judging by the way he dressed and the car he drove, the way that he carried himself as if everyone was beneath his notice, I believed it.

There was something about Caleb though, that had little to do with his good looks that made me want to get to know him better. Once we started talking we became immediate friends. We had nothing in common on the surface, but I felt like with him I could completely be myself.

After we all started studying together; I realized that Caleb was as serious a student as he seemed to be, but not nearly as self-aggrandizing as I'd assumed he would be. He was nice, at least to me. He left the ego-trips to Peyton, who had enough for the both of them.

Caleb was the drummer in their band. He also wrote music. He didn't like to put it on display but in the last few years he had written some of the most popular songs, some of which had made it to number one on the billboards. He also produced music. He knew and worked closely with quite a few artists and musicians.

***

Their band was just about set up on stage when I entered the packed venue. Peyton had gotten me a fake I.D, which I'd never used before.

Peyton was the lead singer in the band as well as lead guitarist. He was sound checking his guitar at the moment. He wore rip torn jeans and a t-shirt that made him look grunge-y, as usual. My eyes wouldn't allow me to lie. When I saw him I was as captivated as every other girl in the place seemed to be. I just didn't want to be.

I sat in a corner of the room at a small table, but where I could clearly see the stage. Too many groupies had started crowding the small space. Peyton's voice rang out across the room.

"This was written for someone who I keep hoping will fucking show up, but then she never does. Fuck it. I'll sing it anyway." He frowned into the crowd as if he were angry or frustrated. I was suddenly jealous as hell of this unknown

she

.

When I heard the first chords to his song my heart constricted in my chest. My eyelids lowered; they were suddenly very heavy. My ears fell in love with Peyton's voice. It was beautiful, perfect. I couldn't move after that. I sat and watched and listened.

They were deep into their set when a commotion disrupted the room. The music stopped and Peyton gave a huge smile as Kyd-Ro walked into the room. A spotlight followed the Rocker up onto the stage next to Peyton. Kyd-Ro was a real bad-ass in the music industry. I'd always loved his music. I had been playing guitar, both electric and acoustic since I was old enough to hold one; one of the many things that my dad and I shared. I'd taught myself how to play the songs of Kyd's that I liked.

As I'd sat there listening to Peyton; I wanted to learn his music as well. For an amateur band they were awesome.

The energy was crazy as Kyd-Ro walked up on the stage. Kyd was so damn sexy to me and millions of other women, no doubt. I was feeling like I wanted to throw my panties on the stage. I did a quick mental check and was happy that I had worn my black lace ones,

in case I just went with the feeling.

I think the few drinks that I'd consumed had me feeling as uninhibited as I was. I didn't drink often.

Kyd hugged Peyton like they were really good friends. Peyton then spoke into the microphone.

"You know what time it is ladies and what were looking for. Which lovely lady is going to be brave "and talented," Caleb chimed in, with a little drum roll,

"Right! And talented enough to join our band? We need you to come up here and cover a song with me by this man right here." He pointed at Kyd.

So many people screamed. It was almost deafening while I got a real rush for the first time in months. I felt something other than the pain or numbness that constantly threatened to fill me up. This was like something of a dream of mine. I'd always wanted to show off my musical talents in a room full of people who would then be blown away. I'd always been too uncertain of myself in high school. I knew I had a good voice, but I wasn't the most popular kid in my class, even though my best friend and cousin were. I'd worn glasses, ponytails, jeans, pullovers or t-shirts, and sneakers. I hadn't been very noticeable. Not much about my appearance had changed since I'd started college.

I felt like the Long Island iced teas that I'd been consuming were speaking to me. It told me to move toward the stage so that Peyton could see me. I was inebriated enough that I was listening.

I was going to go for it, but then I couldn't get through the crowd.

After the second girl got seriously booed off the stage and a third was chosen I got an idea to text Peyton. I saw him look down at the cell attached to his hip, and then he started grinning. He looked out around the room until he found me waving my cell phone through the air.

A smile lit his face. I didn't know what it was. At that point, I just allowed myself for the first time, to bask in the way it made me feel when he smiled at me.

I hadn't even thought about being nauseous and nervous until he called me up onto the stage. I began to make my way through the crowd. Eyes seemed to be on me from every direction.

You've done this a million and one times,

I told myself, but then thought,

yeah at home in front of my mirror while only pretending to be in front of lots of people.

Peyton's right eyebrow was raised as he looked at me, when I stood next to him. He seemed so much taller on that stage somehow.

"So you want to sing with me?" he asked me.

I simply nodded at him.

"Well don't be shy, tell everyone who you are," he said in that teasing tone that he liked to take with me. It was infuriating because it always made me blush like crazy. He made me feel like I was a twelve year old with my first crush.

I cleared my throat." I'm Nicole," I spoke into the mic.

"Okay Nic, I'm just warning you. If you get booed, well you saw what just happened with that pretty little brunette," he told me.

I nodded. I got it. He was going to kick me off the stage and he didn't want me to take it personally.

"Do you mind if I take my jacket off?" I asked him.

"By all means," he answered, sounding so sexy.

I could feel his eyes on me as I turned around to hand Caleb my jacket. He was holding out his hands for it as he stood up from behind his drum set. When I turned back around I caught Peyton staring at my ass. He turned away but not quickly enough.

"It's okay you can look," I told him, and inadvertently the entire room. That's when I knew I was lit.

He laughed. It sounded half embarrassed, half aroused to my ears. I really didn't know where I'd gotten the balls from.

Sean came over to stand next to me with a beautiful acoustic guitar in his hands.

"May I?" I asked him.

He looked at me skeptically as if to say, '

it's your funeral

', but he smiled like he thought I was ballsy.

***

We began to perform the song. I closed my eyes as Peyton's beautiful voice vibrated through my body. It was enough to intoxicate me all on its own.

I started to sing when I was supposed to but, I couldn't look at Peyton. I felt like I was in a zone or something as I just sang my heart out. It felt better than every other self-help technique aka therapy I'd been trying for months.

I barely heard the loud applause I was receiving from the crowd.

I finally risked a glance at Peyton. When our eyes connected it was like this larger than life spark ignited between us. I'd felt little tiny ones before but this one was something entirely different. I could hardly look away from him, and his eyes seemed to be glued to me.

When the song ended, we were both still looking at each other. I broke away from the stare first, after realizing that it's was what I was doing. It was like the crowd had gone away and he was all that there was. I hadn't even recalled finishing the song.

I smiled a little tightly feeling completely out of my element, and then I moved to give Sean his guitar back.

"Wait, where are you going?" Peyton asked me as I got ready to exit the stage. "Do you know any Fleetwood Mac songs?"

"A few," I answered.

"Alright then, how about we do Silver Springs?"

Anything but that one I thought, already feeling a tightness in my chest. I'd been listening to Silver Springs too much as it was lately. The song reminded me of my feelings for Ahmad so deeply, and even before what happened with him the song had always pulled at my heart strings. Like maybe my heart had always known I'd end up hurt like that one day.

I nodded my head at Peyton that I knew the song.

"Sing it for me," he said into the mic.

"Blow me away and I might let you take me home tonight," he growled, as the crowd hooted and hollered.

That made me smile briefly. I walked back over to the microphone.

When he began to play; I focused on a point beyond the crowd and nothing else as I began to sing.

The tears that had begun to slip unbidden from my eyes, were the first real tears I'd allowed myself to release over Ahmad and my father, Tatum; my broken fucking heart.

I knew this song like the back of my hand, and that's what must have gotten me through it so rawly, but so purely. I wasn't even aware that I was singing; the words flowed right through me. I felt each one like a stab to the heart. I knew the pain that Nicks must have been in to write something so heartbreaking.

When we finished the song I left the stage, not in a hurry, but fast enough. I was still crying as I made my way through the crowd towards the entrance.

On my way out, I saw that Kyd was sitting right next to Lindsey, The Lindsey. My eyes widened momentarily in my stun, but I kept moving.

It wasn't until I got outside into the cold air that I remembered my jacket, my keys, and cell phone had still been inside. My heart was still bleeding from performing that song and I didn't want to go back. I wanted to stop the tears on my face from falling, but they wouldn't.

I was both relieved and uncertain when Peyton came towards me with my jacket in his hands. I took it from him then apologized for my hasty exit as I tried to stem the flow of tears on my face.

I thanked him for bringing my jacket and then turned to leave. I wasn't good at being vulnerable. I'd grown up around my father, my uncles, and my grandfather, before he'd died. My cousin Rashida and I had been the only girls in the family. She'd gotten the role of princess so that left me to be the little the tomboy, because apparently there could only be one princess per family.

"I didn't mean to upset you," Peyton said, before I could walk away.

"Not your fault," I managed to tell him, still thinking about how everything I'd ever done had been about someone other than me. I'd been everything my father expected and wanted, my family, Ahmad even, and where had it gotten me, but alone. My father had married Tatum's mother again and they were this big happy family now, which left me on my own. Tatum had even taken Ahmad from me.

I was looking down at the ground as I pulled on my jacket when Peyton walked closer to me.

"Look at me," he commanded, and for some reason I did look up at him.

I could see the emotion in his eyes as I did. I wondered where it came from.

"He's not the only fucking guy in the world. If he left you, that's his loss, but if you think I'm going to allow you to go home and cry yourself to sleep tonight over the douche, then you're dead wrong," he told me heatedly.

"I'm coming over tonight after I finish in there." He leaned down and took my mouth in a powerful and strong kiss. I let him. I even kissed him back. His mouth felt really good pressed against mine.

We were both breathing hard when he pulled away. "Give me an hour Nic, and then I'm going to come to get you."

His words rang with more than one meaning to me.

***

While I waited in my dorm room I bounced back and forth between allowing myself to feel what I had denied feeling for Peyton for a while and what that would mean, versus keeping on the path that I was on; being half dead, zombie-like, so that I didn't have to feel anything and wouldn't hurt. I'd gotten used to feeling numb.

When Peyton came to pick me up; I went with him to his place. I'd never been to his apartment before. It was the epitome of a bachelor pad. I was surprised to find it clean and empty.

"You stay here all by yourself?" I asked following him through the spacious apartment to his bedroom which was huge. The room was clean and smelled nice. He asked me to have a seat and whether or not I wanted anything to eat or drink. I told him I was good.

He told me to feel free to watch TV. or listen to music or whatever and then went to take a shower. He told me that he hadn't taken one before because he didn't want to make me wait too long for him.

I explored his room a little while he was gone. He had a vast CD collection. I was surprised to find a lot of the music that I did, like Prince, who was one of my all-time favorite artists. I chose one of his CD's and put it on. All the while I kept eyeing my overnight bag that I'd brought along. Peyton had noticed it when he came to pick me up, but he ignored it, thankfully.

I'd brought it for a reason. I planned to spend the night or at least need to change clothes after—after. I didn't want to play games with myself. I'd decided what I wanted from Peyton and I decided to be a big girl about it.

With Raspberry Beret playing, I undressed to my underwear, and then pulled one of his clean t-shirts on over me. And then, I took a seat on his bed to wait for him. I was nervous, but certain of what I wanted to happen.