Whispers ricochet across the crowd.
Eyes are probably staring at me,
but I'm not sure.
I'm too busy staring at Andrew.
Every muscle in him's screaming,
teeth clenched, breath fraying.
He’s about to lose it.
Both Nico and Mikey are grinning to the floor.
Jay’s fingers hover over the strings, waiting,
like he’s buffering.
Jake rakes his gaze down me,
then bumps Wes's shoulder.
“Let’s bounce.”
Andrew sets the mic back into the stand,
points his pick into the crowd.
“Next hand that lands on her?
“I break every bone in it.”
He strums the guitar once?—
“Back. The fuck. Up.”
Then there goes my heart,
off beat, off leash, doing things it shouldn’t.
Andrew holds up his hand,
snatching up the crowd’s attention.
The drumsslam, then it’s fucking unhinged.
Every body's moving in sync?—
sweat, heat, breath, bass?—
the beat shoving itself down their throats
and puppeting their bones.
The lights flash. The crowd roars.
But, Andrew…
