Guitars, Heartbreak, Love, Big Mistake

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
A guitarist who loves music & a girl who's obsessed with his band find love for each other and realise that life is full of love, friendship, heartache and pain.

Submitted: May 29, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: May 29, 2012




There was something different about tonight. Something that made me hopeful once the set was over, he’d come rushing towards me and never let go of me. I knew it was stupid, but I was hopeful. The sweet guitar music echoed through the crowded bar and I made my way through the many swaying bodies. That’s when I caught a glimpse of him, Dean Lark, the guitarist. Now, I was at the front of the crowd, I tried to meet his deep green eyes. That’s when I saw him, looking towards me. I smiled. The rest of his band was looking straight ahead, but Dean looked straight at me. I felt a hot flush come over me, the room spiralling around my head and-

“Hold that.” It was Dean’s voice, I knew. When I moved my head to get a closer look, it hurt.  I placed the cold press to my head, dazed. I looked around; the room (whatever room I was in) was full of posters. Posters of Grey Avenue, Dean’s band, scattered around the room. “Wow.” Charlie Permian, the  drummer, said. “I knew girls would like us. Not enough to faint.” I froze, I had fainted. And they all saw me faint, Dean Lark saw me faint at his concert. I smirked slightly. I was backstage, I knew, because I saw Dean’s Mum walk in. She was carrying a tray stacked with Cokes and she passed them around. “You’re the girl who fainted?” she asked. Dean shot her a look. “My names Carmen. Carmen Long.” I replied. Dean’s Mother smiled widely, her aged face wrinkling with passion “I told you girls would love you..” she said to Dean, slowly heading out. I just watched them, talking to each other, and I felt so happy. Like I belonged here, with Dean.

Just a stupid crush, I said with a laugh. It wasn’t a crush, I knew, because I blushed every time I saw him. And when he brushed past my arm to take a Coke, I was breathless. Just as I settled into the blue couch, Dean jumped up, his cherry guitar slung over his shoulder, and said “Shall I talk you home?” I wasn’t going to say no, but I was apprehensive. It was dark outside and cold, too. I knew because I shivered, regretting that I had chosen a printed white vest over my Mother’s choice of a purple turtleneck. Completely clique, I knew, Dean pulled his coat over my arms. I smiled at him, a simple smile. When we made it to my house, he looked straight at me, slipped a note in my pocket, and walked away.

Had a great night, please call. 098765465409. I looked at the piece of paper, crumpled it into my pocket. When I stepped inside, the house was pleasant and quiet. The only person, or thing, in the house was my scruffy mutt Sam. He came bounding towards me, kissing me with his silky pink tongue. I laughed, lightly pushing him aside as I made my way towards the living room. I sunk straight down into the leather couch, grateful for its warmth. And then, just as my eyes began to close, I heard my phone ringing. I froze, because it was Dean. He was calling me. “Hey.” His voice was soft, not a whisper, but a mumble. I felt my face go hot and I laughed. “I’m sorry I couldn’t talk, the band was here. I didn’t want them to hear. I’m really glad you came tonight.” He explained. “I’m glad I came tonight, too.” I whispered this, as if I didn’t want anyone else to hear.


I went to every concert since then, standing at the front, and I made my way backstage every time. Dean looked at me, and I looked at him. “It’s been two weeks, sure you’re not sick of this?” he said, mockingly. “I’m a big fan of yours,” I said, looking straight at him. “Of course I’m not sick of this.” Doug, the bass guitarist, looked at us. He wasn’t the smartest person ever, but he made up for it with his looks. “She’s came to every concert, surely it’s officially. She’s your biggest fan. And you’re hers.” He looked apprehensive, and so did I. He agreed, of course. And then, his hand in mine, he kissed me. Straight on the lips, passionate and true. The rest of the band whooped and cheered. We walked home together, our hands linked. “You’re beautiful.” He said, looking at me. He was beautiful. He was wearing a black bowler hat that covered his mousy hair, and his green jersey complimented his eyes. I was wearing  a white dress, that hugged my sides and comfortable pumps that were simple but elegant. The night was cold, casting a shadow on us. When I stopped at my house, I was reluctant to pull away from his grip, but I did. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He said, kissing me on the cheek.


I hated school, the sound of the loud bell catching into my conversation, but today was going to be a great day. The whole of Grey Avenue attended my school, including Dean. When I saw him by the lockers, I glanced straight at him. “Good morning.” He said. I smiled, unable to speak. “We’re rehearsing tonight, do you want to come?” he asked. I blinked at him. “Are you sure you don’t mind? I’m not getting in the way, am I?” He looked straight at me, his eyes perfect and true and he said “No, you’re not getting in the way at all.” We walked to class together, parting once we reached our classes. “I’ll see you at lunch.” He said, and then he kissed me. And I kissed him back, like I’d been wanting to for a long time. I sunk straight into my desk, pleasantly.  “Carmen,” I heard from behind me. “Carmen.” The voice repeated. I turned around to see my best friend, Vanessa Nichols, shifting in her seat. “You had those  flirty eyes.” she said, dramatically. Vanessa was an avid member of the school’s drama club, every situation was a shock to her. I watched her eyes widen as she said “Who is this mystery man?” I  bit my lip. “It’s Dean Lark.” I watched her happy expression change, a scowl met her lip. “Oh.

I caught up with Vanessa quickly, linking arms with her. “What’s wrong with Dean?”  She looked hesitantly around as if she didn’t say anything. “I dated him, last year.” She sighed. I gasped “What happened?” I asked. “He left for a tour, and he left me alone. Forgot about me, you know?” He’s not going to forget me, I thought. She smirked at me. “You really love him, don’t you?” She asked. I shrugged, slightly hesitant and then said “Yes.” Vanessa turned her head towards me, looking me straight in the eyes “Well if you truly love him, you need to know that your heart will be broken.” I groaned. I watched Vanessa saunter away, and rolled my eyes. Her face was red with anger, and I knew that she was jealous.  Dean caught up with me, thankfully. He looked happy, his guitar slung over his body. He leaned in to kiss me, and I resisted. “What’s wrong?” He looked at me, my head bowed. He looked out to see his ex’s face, and sighed. “She told you something, right?” I nodded. He put his arms around me, and kissed my cheek.  I smiled, I felt like the luckiest girl in the world.

His voice sounded excited on the phone. “We got a record deal!” he shrieked, sounding more like a girl. I laughed at him. He sighed heavily and said “It’s in America.” I gulped heavily, trying to swallow my tears. I was choked up, but I didn’t want him to go. He was pursuing his dream, but I wasn’t happy. “I’m so happy for you. Really, I am.” I tried to say. “Carmen, I’m sorry. I’ll visit, and you can come to the concerts and-“ I cut off the phone call, tossing it angrily off my bed. I hated him, hated that he wasn’t going to ask me first. I didn’t want to talk, my heart ached.

I knew I couldn’t hate him, not for as long as I thought anyway. He was stood at my door, flowers and gifts in his hands. I fell straight into his arms, sobbing and wailing. “My flight leaves tomorrow.” He said, tears in his eyes. He stroked my hair, and I sighed with pleasure. We headed straight for my bedroom, slamming the door shut. It was a risk, I knew, but 4 months without him would be awful. He sat on the bed, his body stretched carefully out. He patted the empty spot, and I planted myself firmly down. He showered me with kisses, sweet kisses and ran his fingers up and down my cheek. I was carried away, throwing his t-shirt straight on the floor. He had rippling muscles, and I touched them to see if they were real. He looked down at my blouse, untying the ribbon. I felt so violated, but it felt so right. Our bodies were touching, the heat running through my body,  the  sensation tingling inside of me. His soft lips pressed against mine and we kissed a long, lustful kiss. I was reluctant to pull away, our breathing the only sound to hear. “I love you.” I said, my tears dripping on his chest. He smiled, his fingers catching my tears. “I love you too. I’ll call you. Every day. I’m sorry.” I looked straight at him. “You don’t need to apologise, this is your dream.” He smiled.

The airport was crowded with people, but I felt like we were the only people there. I said goodbye to the band, wished them luck. I hugged him tight. “Goodbye, Dean. I love you so much.” He laughed. When he pulled away, his lips came towards mine. “I love you too.” Our kiss lasted long, and it felt like the best kiss ever. I watched them leave, calling “Goodbye” after them. I caught him smiling, and shed a tear.

I opened my eyes like a shot, feeling sick to my stomach. I hoped it was because I was sick without him, and not any other sickness. I rushed to the toilet to throw up, falling to the ground in tears, oh no, oh no, oh no. It had only been 2 months, but I’d missed my scheduled period and I was worried. I was pacing, through the living room, Sam’s eyes staring at me. I stroked him, as he licked away my salty tears.  I didn’t want to look at it, because I didn’t want to believe it was true. I didn’t want to be pregnant, especially not when Dean’s on tour…

I was 10 weeks pregnant, and the scan’s looked healthy, but my heart still ached for him. I longed to hear his voice, feel his touch. I didn’t want his tour to be cut short, but I needed him. More than anything. I dialled his number, unable to cope anymore. “Dean?” I asked, my voice shaking. “Yes, babe, what’s wrong?” he sounded concerned, and I broke down. “I- I don’t know what to do.” I wailed. “I’m 10 weeks pregnant with your baby.” Dean didn’t speak, I didn’t blame him. “Right,” he said. “I’m booking a return flight, you need me.” He cut the line off before I could say anything.

I looked around the airport, waiting for him to arrive. I saw him, cherry guitar slung over his shoulder, come towards me. He hugged me tightly, letting go quickly. “I’m-I’m sorry, did I?” he clutched the bump. I shook my head, tears suddenly flowing from my eyes. “I love you!” I proclaimed.

Dean sung to the baby, he did everything for the baby. I was grateful for him. Dean bought a house, which we quickly filled with baby clothes and furniture. I was bursting with excitement, and I counted down the days. The next morning I woke up, and I saw my worst fear. I looked over at Dean, who was sleeping soundly, and I hit him. He quickly awoke, looking at my tear streaked face. “There’s…there’s blood.” I said. He rushed out of bed. We made our way to the hospital, and I didn’t want to listen to the results. The doctor looked up at us, his face looking concerned, and said “You had a miscarriage, I’m sorry.” He said. I fell into Dean’s arms, tears falling from my eyes. I couldn’t believe after how perfect live had been, it all started crashing down beneath us.

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