She was reminded of how great Russ Sutton was at concerts. Most peopleweren’tgreat at concerts... They complained or got too drunk or wanted to leave before the encore to beat the rush in the parking lot.
Russ was completely present and engaged. He’d sing along and dance in place. He’d look over at you every few minutes, like,Isn’t this great?He’d get invested in your options at the merch table. How many shows had they dragged Stacia to over the year they were dating? (The year that Stacia and Russ were dating.)
Stacia had always been game for a concert—she was game for most things—but she didn’tlovemusic. She got bored at long concerts, especially if no one was drinking, and she didn’t like situations where everyone pressed against each other. She didn’t like being jostled by strangers. (Jostling was probably more unpleasant for hot girls.) Cherry kind of loved getting lost in a crowd, everyone dancing together like one organism. Sometimes Stacia would leave Russ and Cherry in the thick of it and wait for them at the back of the room or sitting at the bar.
It felt familiar for Cherry to be shoulder to shoulder with Russ Sutton in the dark like this. It felt easy.
“I wish we were closer,” she said between songs. She meant, to the stage.
“We could be closer,” Russ said. He knew what she meant. He shook the back of her chair so it rocked. “Let’s get closer.”
Cherry scrunched up her nose. She didn’t want to give up her seat—but she also didn’t want to spoil Russ’s fun. “You can go.”
“Oh, does Her Majesty not want to leave her throne?”
She made another face. “It’s not me, it’s my lower back.”
“Come on, Cherry. We’re still in our youth. We’reMillennials.”
“And I’m aging like milk.”
The next song started. It was another of Cherry’s favorites. Another one she’d played over and over when she was feeling low. “Unf,?” she groaned. “Ilovethis song.”
Russ’s arm slipped from her chair to her shoulders and squeezed. “Come on. We’re moving up.”
Cherry bit her lips for a second, then hopped down off the chair.
“Attagirl.” He tugged her forward.
She let him lead her through gaps in the crowd. Russ had a way of moving like he was on his way somewhere. People always stepped aside for him.
He kept his arm around Cherry, and she kept close to him, all the way up to the front, just a few people away from the stage. Close enough to read the lead singer’s ironic T-shirt—OMAHA IS FOR LOVERS... of free parking.
Russ looked over at Cherry and raised his eyebrows like,See? I told you this would be great.
She grinned back at him.
He turned to the stage, already swaying and nodding his head to the music. His arm still in place.
Cherry noticed. And didn’t move away. She swayed with him, her shoulder against his chest, letting her head swing back and forth.
They wouldn’t have been standing quitethisclose back in college. Russ wouldn’t have put his arm around her. But he used to dance with Cherry sometimes at concerts—if the beat was right, and if there wasroom. By the time Stacia and Russ broke up, Cherry had learned the basics of East Coast Swing and a little bit of the Lindy Hop.
This was different. Closer. Tighter. Russ’s chin was brushing against Cherry’s hair, and her hip was solidly against his—and he didn’t seem to mind. He didn’t seem worried about anyone seeing them. Maybe this was standard Russ behavior these days.Find a friend. Get cozy. Have a good time.
It wasnotstandard Cherry behavior. It had been a while since she’d felt cozy with anyone.
This was all very irregular for her... Beyond irregular—surreal.
Cherry was currently singing along to a song, about unrequited love, that had been her soundtrack for the second half of senior year. And the boy she’d been thinking of back then? Was holding her now,alsosinging along, completely oblivious to Cherry’s heavy feelings, past or present.
Life was absurd.
If the last year had taught her anything, it was that.
Was the universeactuallytalking to Cherry tonight? Had it sent Russ back across her path as auspiciously as possible? (“Stop saying ‘the universe’ when you mean God,”her sister Honny would say.) Or was this night just anotherthingthat was happening? A coincidence. More chaos.
Cherry’s voice caught on the chorus of the song. Her eyes teared up. She laughed out loud.
