I loved the game, but my favorite part was Charlie holding onto my arm as he doubled over.
The Celtics lost, but I was grinning as we headed out with the crowd. The lights around the arena illuminated the area as if casting a beacon of hope that the evening was not over.
I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.
“How about a beer?” Charlie shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “I know a good place nearby. Unless you have plans.”
And just like that, Charlie gave me another reason to hug him. I didn’t though. I could behave in public even whilst still hyped by the game. “Beer sounds great. Lead the way.”
Chapter Six
Trent
The bar we entered wasn’t sports themed, which was a blessing considering the crowds at the game. Normally, I prefer hanging out by the long bar to talk to the staff and be open to anyone joining me. But tonight, I was glad we took tall chairs at a tiny table by the window, sitting with two drafts of Sam Adams and a bowl of peanuts.
“I used to love popcorn when we had movie nights as kids.” I pointed at the snacks.
“Yeah, but with pop, not beer.” Charlie chuckled. “That’s what we’ll do next Friday when you come over.”
“Remember when we had a sleepover in your room and your mom thought we were watching a horror flick?” The memory was very vivid in my mind—the two of us curled in sleeping bags on a pile of blankets on the floor, our sleepy eyes glued to the TV.
“Yeah. We cried all night watching The Notebook and promised to never tell anyone.”
“Even your mom.”
We both laughed, the joy of the shared childhood moments like a tether pulling us closer.
“You already played guitar then. You kept plunking that dum dum dum dum song on the top strings. What was it?”
“Oh God, how do you still remember that?” Charlie raked his fingers through his hair, making them stand up even more. “It wasCome as You Areby Nirvana. One of the first songs I taught myself.”
“I played the flute at school, but I wasn’t born for music. That was always clear.”
Charlie snorted a laugh, then took two sips of beer. “You can still play the flute if that’s your thing.”
I kicked him under the table, but his smile grew wider. “Maybe it is. I’m not sure yet.” Holding his gaze, I finished my drink and waved to the bar for another round. “I’d like to watch you play, though. The guitar. When’s your next gig? Or are you planning a concert with your original songs anytime soon?”
“The parties are not regular, but we’re doing a Y2K night next month.” Charlie magic-ed a pick out from his pocket and fiddled with it, as if it was a coin at a casino.
“You don’t sound happy about it.”
“I am. Playing covers lets us vibe with the crowd since they already know and like the songs. We learned the craft on other people’s stuff, but yeah, my dream is to get that energy from people when we’re rocking our own tunes.”
“You don’t usually get that?”
“We do, but only from a handful of people. When we support a small band with our original set, most concert-goers usually skip us and arrive for the headliner, so we’re not breaking through to many people. The handful that know the lyrics are amazing though and give me hope that we don’t suck. Sure, we posted a few singles online, even broke into an abandoned library once to shoot a video, but a few hundred fans from over the country won’t travel to Boston for our gig.”
“I can see how that’s tough. But you’re trying and you have something that glued me to your performance.”
“Thanks. We got a spot to open for a local alternative band with our own set. But that’s in three months. We’re afraid no one will turn up to hear us.”
“I’m sure that won’t be the case. But speaking of—whenwillyou let me listen to your music?”
Charlie grumbled. “I’ll send you a link tomorrow so you won’t abandon me here to listen.”
“Fair. Or maybe you could play for me like you used to?” I folded the napkin into a hat and slid it across the table.
“That could be arranged.” Charlie took my napkin and continued folding it into a boat.
