We handedover our tickets and got MINOR stamped on our hands in black ink at the door. Mad Dog was there to check our IDs and welcome us with a grimace and grunt toward the stage.
I couldn’t help but smile as we stepped into the smoke filled room. A bar lined one side of the open space, filled with college kids old enough to drink or lucky enough to have a fake ID that didn’t look fake. Half the filthy floor was covered with tall tables and barstools and the other half cleared out so kids could smoosh together in front of the stage. It smelled like sweat, cigarettes and the sticky sweet hint of bud.
Fresh Suicide was already on stage, jamming to one of my favorites. Jake had his guitar strung over his front, shouting into the microphone. The place was going nuts.
We pushed through sweaty bodies in the back, making our way as close to the stage as we could get. Troy leaned down and shouted something in my ear, but it was too crazy loud, I couldn’t hear him.
I turned and shrugged, motioning at my ear. The expression on his face made me falter. He looked wounded… hurt. His eyes were tight with frustration and I could tell he did not want to be here.
I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be here either anymore.
Gina grabbed my hand, unaware of the moment passing between Troy and me, and tugged me along. I let her lead, weaving us through the pressing crowd.
It wasn’t until we’d made it close to the stage that I realized what Troy had yelled. I turned around to look for him, but I already knew he didn’t follow us.
He was going to hang in the back of the room. That’s what he had told me.
For the first time all night, I no longer had to worry about Troy. And I hated it.
Gina threw our hands in the air and screamed for the band. She started jumping along with everyone in the crowd and I no longer had the ability to worry about Troy anymore. It was join them or die.
I threw my other hand in the air and tried to get into the music that I loved so much. I watched Jake and tried to feel the same excited anticipation I always felt when he was around. I tried to lose myself in the crowd and the energy and the night.
But all of it had lost its luster.
The music was too loud, grating on my raw nerves. The crowd was too close, too hot, too aggressive. The band sounded good—they always sounded good, but they couldn’t capture my attention like they used to.
And Jake…
We were close enough that he noticed me. His chin lifted in acknowledgment and there was a twinkle in his eye when he checked me out.
But I felt nothing.
My heart didn’t hammer, my stomach didn’t flip… my mind didn’t swirl with a hundred daydreams about the guy I’d wanted for so long.
Because he wasn’t real.
The man I’d made him into, the idea I’d dreamed up… was just that. An idea.
Troy was real. And interested in me. And frickin’ amazing.
I leaned up on my tippy toes and searched the back of the bar, but I couldn’t find him. There were too many people between me and him.
God, why had it taken so long to see what was right in front of my face this whole time?
The song ended and the crowd went wild. I was forced to turn around and hold my ground before I got trampled under the press of the crowd.
Jake leaned into the mic and shouted, “Make some noise! Show them who you want!”
The crowd screamed louder, stomping their feet and going wild for the band.
“Tell them who you want to win!” Jake screamed into the mic.
I forgot about Troy for a minute and let myself enjoy this moment. No matter how my feelings had changed in the last few hours, Jake was still something to behold. I was happy for him and this night. I didn’t need to hear any of the other bands to know that he had won it. The crowd was totally bonkers for him right now.
Someone started chanting “Fresh Suicide” in the back and soon enough the whole place was yelling it. The walls seemed to shake and the air vibrated with their demands.
Jake strutted around on stage, eating up the attention and glory.
