“Ahhhh,” Miranda says, following my line of sight. “I see who you like.”
“I don’t—” I start.
“Kevin’s my favorite too!” squeals Leigh, reaching past Miranda to grab my hand, like we’re united in the exclusive sisterhood of lusting after guitarists. “He’s so laid-back and sensitive and I heard he really cares about the environment—”
“Kevin’s hot, but give me bad boy Shane any day,” Miranda counters. “Or JT. He’s kind of bat-shit crazy, but I like it.” She points at the singer, clearly for my benefit.
Leigh shrugs and screams another “Wooo” at the stage. Kevin walks back out, the singer nods at the drummer, and they start up another song. Both my friends start dancing, and I can’t help but join along.
The music is kind of catchy, even if it’s not normally my thing.
Even if I can’t seem to take my eyes off of Kevin. I don’t know anything about guitar, but his fingers flit nimbly across the strings, and I wonder how long he’s been playing. He seems like he’s really good.
He glances over at me again, and I feel a flush down to my toes.
I nearly get whacked in the head by the girl jumping up and down behind me and screaming “I love you, Kevin!” So maybe he’s not actually looking at me.
Whatever. I’m just here to have fun with my friends.
We’re dancing, and I’m alternating between shaking my head and laughing at Miranda and Leigh’s antics, though I’m preparing myself to physically tackle Leigh if she decides to follow Miranda’s example and toss her own shirt on stage.
“Keep it on!” I yell to her. “You don’t even have a bra on underneath! You’ll be completely miserable taking a topless cab ride home.”
“Eh,” Leigh yells back. “It’s a concert.They sell t-shirts.”
“Still,” I say. It may have been an unseasonably warm day for October, but Denver gets cold at night regardless, which means they’re both going to be freezing. Maybe I should go out to the concession stand and buy a couple Accidental Erotica t-shirts for them, or maybe even hoodies, just in—
A stocky, bearded guy dressed all in black emerges through the squealing cadre of girls next to me. He holds out a few lanyards with what looks like tickets in them and hands them . . . tome.
“For backstage,” he yells over the music. “For you and your friends.”
“I—uh . . . What?” I ask. Because I know what these are, but why he gave them to me—
The guy doesn’t answer because he’s already turned and vanished back into the sea of screaming fans from whence he came. A few of whom are glaring at me like I personally sabotaged their chances to bone Accidental Erotica.
My friends, though . . .
“Oh my god! Oh my god!” Leigh screams, bouncing up and down, while Miranda just stares at the passes in my hand, open-mouthed.
“Holy shit,” she says. “Open the note! What does it say?”
I didn’t even notice there was a note until she said that, but I pull it out of one of the lanyards and open it. My body heats up.
Hope to see you at the party afterward, it reads.
And it’s signed:Kevin.
The concert is over, the band having come out for two full encores—seems excessive, but maybe that’s rock concert standard, I don’t know—and the crowd is filing out around us while we stand there like rocks in a vaguely pot-scented river. My ears are ringing from the sudden absence of music.
“You have to go,” Miranda says as I nervously fiddle with my lanyard. And Kevin’s note.
I chew on my lower lip. “I told you. You guys could go even if I don’t—you have the passes.”
“That’s not the point. Comfort zone, remember?” Miranda gives me a hard look. “You said it, not me.”
I’m not sure I said it with the level of surety she seems to remember, but she’s not wrong. “I’m not sure—this isn’t really my scene, you know?”
Leigh bounces excitedly beside us, though she’s clearly trying to tamp that down on my behalf, which makes her bouncing look more like random jerky motions. “Obviously you don’t have to sleep with him—”
