The whiplash from thinking that Dean is handsome and wanting to kiss him to hearing this song practically gives me bruises and throws me back against the wall. I’d know that piano intro anywhere, from the dead of the night to the middle of the morning.
It’s one of Andy’s songs.
Madeline by Andy McKinney
I think I’ve found you just in time, I’m waiting at your house, you fell asleep, all I can see is your face, I know I’m almost there, almost home, I weep at the sight of you
You told me I could have met you a few times before, maybe in a past life, the last life or the very first, little did we know what was in store. In all my lives I know I’m lucky to have you here
I’m no stranger to forgetting yourself for a while, maybe I should but I could never forget you, no matter how far I go, I’m still thinking of you
I'll never forget you, I know it'll be hard, since there's no one else around, I’m insane enough to think that there's more to life than this (Get a move on now, Madeline)
5
First, I’m frozen in my seat, and I don’t know if I want to laugh or cry. I was saving listening to this song for a special moment, when I was ready. I can’t believe it’s being wasted on a drunk sorority sister slurring her words. This song was supposed to be for me. Not for her. Not for anyone else. This song belongs to me.
But then, the anger bubbles in my stomach and I want to push her off the stage. This is my song. I won’t let anyone else but Andy sing it. I quickly stand up, some of the contents of my bag clattering to the floor. The ibuprofen bottle rolls right to Dean’s foot.
“What are you doing?” Dean hisses, handing me the bottle. “Eat your dinner.”
“That’s—that’s my song. She can’t sing that song,” I hiss back, haphazardly throwing things back in my bag.
“What do you mean? It’s a song!” He’s hovering over the table, like he might stop me from getting up and leaving.
“It’s not just a song!” I shout, drawing the attention of some nearby diners.
Dean’s face twists as the realization that this is one of Andy’s songs hits him. I don’t have a plan for what I’m going to do next,but I start walking towards the stage, and the lively, drunk man leading the growing crowd in front of it.
“Madeline, sit down! Leave them alone!” I look back as Dean whisper-shouts, but I forge ahead. The song isn’t even halfway over and I’ll be damned if this drunken trollop of a woman finishes it. Dean gets up from his spot in the booth, abandoning our plates, trailing behind me.
Once I reach the stage, I inhale a large breath and tap the man’s shoulder. He looks me up and down and coughs right in my face. “Who are you?” He stutters.
“I’m Madeline,” I say, wiping the spit off my brow. “You need to get your lady—” I gesture towards the stage wildly, feeling myself become more unhinged by the second. Only a crazy person does what I’m doing right now.
“My girlfriend.” He interjects.
“You need to get your girlfriend!” I shout over the loudspeakers. We can barely hear each other. “She can’t be singing this song!”
“What?” The man yells. “Why not?”
“Because it’s my song!” I shout, growing fiercely frustrated, my reason doesn’t even make sense, but the fire in my soul is arguing with all rationality right now. I feel Dean towering behind me now, and he places a hand on my shoulder, but I don’t even care.
“You want to sing?” The man asks. He gestures to his girlfriend up on the stage.
“No! I want her tostopsinging!”
“So,youcan sing?” He laughs, clearly drunk and not understanding what I’m asking. “Gina! Come down here!” He calls.
She calls back and walks towards the edge of the stage, the song coming to an end now. I’m so infuriated, I can’t get my words out. Gina hands Mike the microphone, who in turn, handsit directly to me. But all I can do is sigh. This is not exactly what I wanted. Mike and Gina are highly disappointed in me for not singing.
“Sing!” Mike shouts.
“I don’t know any songs,” I reply flatly, the microphone ringing with feedback. Mike yanks the microphone from me, and hands it to Dean instead, who has been hovering over me nervously.
“Sing!” Mike shouts. The music from Andy’s song has ended, and the opening notes to a new one are beginning. It’s not another one of Andy’s songs, thank god. I don’t recognize this song until Dean opens his mouth.
“You think I’m pretty without any makeup on?” It sounds like a question coming from him. It’sTeenage Dreamby Katy Perry. Dean’s voice is deep and melodic, and while he sounds a little confused, he gets the lyrics right without looking at the screen.
