Read Online Alluring Turmoil by Skye Turner - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Skye Turner
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warm up.
I can’t take my eyes off of Jude. This is his element. He grabs the microphone stand and moves his head from side to side to stretch his neck, before dropping down into a few squats to limber up his legs. This causes his jeans to tighten over his strong thighs and his perfect ass. I can’t move my eyes.
It’s as if my eyes are lasers and his ass is the target. He looks over his shoulder and catches me staring. He winks and jumps up on his toes a few times.
Jessie calls out, “Hey, we doing the normal warm up?” with his brows raised in question.
Jude looks at me and calls back, “Yes. Stick with it. Best range coverage that way, so yeah, usual warm-up.” Our eyes are still locked, and as the first strains of Jessie’s bass float out, Jude starts to sing. His body is facing the empty arena, but his head is facing me and his eyes are interlocked with mine.
My brain suddenly wraps around the song choice.
This is the usual warm up song? He’s still looking at me as the first verse of My Heart Was Red streams through the empty arena strong and clear.
This is my song… This is the first song Jude ever wrote for me. His gravelly voice reaches straight into my heart and reclaims its ownership.
My knees go weak and I feel lightheaded. Just then, the roadie returns with a chair and I gratefully sink into it. As my rear touches the seat, Jude smiles and turns to face the sound tech on the floor as he continues to sing.
I lay my head back and close my eyes, just taking his voice in.
“I walked alone; all alone,
always alone, like I was made of stone
even in a crowd I was always alone
alive but not living
until the day broke and my heart was red.”
Hearing the chorus brings me back to the first time he sang it for me…
Lexi
9 years ago
It’s hot tonight. It’s 11:30 and it’s still at least eighty five degrees out here.
It’s August in Louisiana, so the temperature is not unusual. But the humidity is making it feel like it’s the middle of the day.
A bunch of us are at a bonfire behind the levee trying to get in a few more carefree days before school starts in a couple of weeks. We’re a mix of those still attending high school and those who recently graduated, but haven’t started college yet. We’re on the river, but there’s no breeze.
It’s really too hot for a fire, but without it, it would be too dark to see. There are no lights out here. It’s just the levee, the river, the trees, and an occasional barge passing by.
Someone has their truck door open and the radio on, so we have music. People are spread out everywhere on tailgates, blankets, fallen trees, or just in the grass or sand.
Most people are drinking. Wine coolers, beer, and Boone’s cheap wine are the most popular choices.
I’ve had two wine coolers and a glass of Boone’s Strawberry Hill; add that to the oppressive heat, and I’m pretty buzzed.
The temperature is really getting to everyone, so people start to clear out around midnight. By 12:30, the only people left are Erik, Jude, and me.
Jude has been playing his guitar and singing all night. A few girls have tried to talk to him, but he’s been in a strange mood the past month or so, and he didn’t take anyone up on their offers to keep him company. This pleases me.
In two weeks, I’ll be a senior. Hunter was accepted to UCLA, and has already moved to California to get settled before the semester starts. We both agreed that the long distance thing wasn’t in the cards for us, so we ended on good terms back in June.
Erik is going into business management at LSU. Jude has decided that college is not for him and he wants to focus on his music. So he’s recorded a few demos and has sent them off to various music producers.
He’s good. No, he’s great. His voice is both gravelly and smooth like butter at the same time. It’s amazing. He’s amazing.
Erik is tired and asks me if I’m ready to go since I rode here with him, but I’m buzzed and not
I can’t take my eyes off of Jude. This is his element. He grabs the microphone stand and moves his head from side to side to stretch his neck, before dropping down into a few squats to limber up his legs. This causes his jeans to tighten over his strong thighs and his perfect ass. I can’t move my eyes.
It’s as if my eyes are lasers and his ass is the target. He looks over his shoulder and catches me staring. He winks and jumps up on his toes a few times.
Jessie calls out, “Hey, we doing the normal warm up?” with his brows raised in question.
Jude looks at me and calls back, “Yes. Stick with it. Best range coverage that way, so yeah, usual warm-up.” Our eyes are still locked, and as the first strains of Jessie’s bass float out, Jude starts to sing. His body is facing the empty arena, but his head is facing me and his eyes are interlocked with mine.
My brain suddenly wraps around the song choice.
This is the usual warm up song? He’s still looking at me as the first verse of My Heart Was Red streams through the empty arena strong and clear.
This is my song… This is the first song Jude ever wrote for me. His gravelly voice reaches straight into my heart and reclaims its ownership.
My knees go weak and I feel lightheaded. Just then, the roadie returns with a chair and I gratefully sink into it. As my rear touches the seat, Jude smiles and turns to face the sound tech on the floor as he continues to sing.
I lay my head back and close my eyes, just taking his voice in.
“I walked alone; all alone,
always alone, like I was made of stone
even in a crowd I was always alone
alive but not living
until the day broke and my heart was red.”
Hearing the chorus brings me back to the first time he sang it for me…
Lexi
9 years ago
It’s hot tonight. It’s 11:30 and it’s still at least eighty five degrees out here.
It’s August in Louisiana, so the temperature is not unusual. But the humidity is making it feel like it’s the middle of the day.
A bunch of us are at a bonfire behind the levee trying to get in a few more carefree days before school starts in a couple of weeks. We’re a mix of those still attending high school and those who recently graduated, but haven’t started college yet. We’re on the river, but there’s no breeze.
It’s really too hot for a fire, but without it, it would be too dark to see. There are no lights out here. It’s just the levee, the river, the trees, and an occasional barge passing by.
Someone has their truck door open and the radio on, so we have music. People are spread out everywhere on tailgates, blankets, fallen trees, or just in the grass or sand.
Most people are drinking. Wine coolers, beer, and Boone’s cheap wine are the most popular choices.
I’ve had two wine coolers and a glass of Boone’s Strawberry Hill; add that to the oppressive heat, and I’m pretty buzzed.
The temperature is really getting to everyone, so people start to clear out around midnight. By 12:30, the only people left are Erik, Jude, and me.
Jude has been playing his guitar and singing all night. A few girls have tried to talk to him, but he’s been in a strange mood the past month or so, and he didn’t take anyone up on their offers to keep him company. This pleases me.
In two weeks, I’ll be a senior. Hunter was accepted to UCLA, and has already moved to California to get settled before the semester starts. We both agreed that the long distance thing wasn’t in the cards for us, so we ended on good terms back in June.
Erik is going into business management at LSU. Jude has decided that college is not for him and he wants to focus on his music. So he’s recorded a few demos and has sent them off to various music producers.
He’s good. No, he’s great. His voice is both gravelly and smooth like butter at the same time. It’s amazing. He’s amazing.
Erik is tired and asks me if I’m ready to go since I rode here with him, but I’m buzzed and not
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