She stares at the brick, wonderin’ what that girl in the tub woulda said if she knew this was waitin’ for her on the other side of her tears.
Ain’t no way this’ll happen twice. This feelin’ don’t come back. She knows it ‘fore his hand leaves her. This might be the best she’ll ever feel in her skin. And it ain’t ‘cause of what he did. It’showhe did it. With desire. With how he touched her body like he’d been waitin’ on her for years, and how he’s holdin’ her like she’s the best thing that ever happened to him.
And she knows it in her chest, in her gut that this?
This ain’t just thefirsttime bein’ touched like this.
It might be theonlytime.
“That do it for you, sweetheart?”
She nods, starin’ at the wall, and she’s cryin’ and she don’t know why.
“Good,” he says, kissin’ the back of her shoulder. He gathers her clothes up off the floor and hands ‘em to her, helpin' her hook her bra back on. “Hate leavin’ you here like this, but I gotta get back before Matty fucks up the solo.”
Her chest stutters, her fingers shakin’ now that it’s over.
He fixes her shirt, offerin’ a grin. “I’ll look for you after, aight?”
But she can’t speak.
She’s afraid to meet his eyes, knowin' it’ll break her heart.
All she can do is nod.
Then Andrew Harding leaves her behind, same as the rest of them—grateful and grieving and gone, thinking he’ll find her after the show, but he won’t.
We’ve heard the whispers.
We know he never looks back.
And we follow.
Through the narrow backstage turns.
Past the flyers taped to the wall.
Then he slips into the bathroom.
The door closes behind him, shutting us out.
When it swings open again, two girls are waiting,
shoving him right back inside.
Door’s pulled shut, lock flipping with aclick.
Another ten or fifteen minutes pass.
The girls exit, legs shaking, leaving Andrew inside.
A few more minutes later, the door opens for the third time,
and he’s finally on the move.
He cuts across the floor.
Through the smoke and sweat and drunk-haze of the crowd.
