The three of us made our way through the dry cleaner to the backyard and up an outdoor staircase to the second floor. Through the windows facing the walkway, I spotted guitars, amps, and drums in every room we passed. Nora knocked on the last door at the end of the hall, and a woman who looked almostexactly like her opened it. They had the same ash-blonde hair pulled back with a headband, the same blue jeans, and similar band T-shirts, just from different bands. Only the woman’s pierced ear, darker makeup, and, of course, her face set her apart from Nora.
“You’re on time,” she said, stepping aside to let us in. “I like that.”
Right behind the door was a small communal area with two benches and two empty glass-door fridges. The walls were plastered with posters of both famous and unknown bands, covering nearly every inch and making the room feel dark despite the light coming through the windows. To the left was a hallway with six doors on either side. Each door was covered with a handwritten number and hundreds of stickers that, upon closer inspection, turned out to be the band logos from groups that had practiced there. In one of the back rooms, an acoustic guitar played a soft ballad.
“You’ll be in room four,” the woman said as she led the way. “The band that usually practices there is in L.A. until Tuesday. They left their stuff and said you could use the drums if you need them, but don’t touch anything else.”
“We won’t,” Sebastian replied.
“Good. Because I’ll hold you responsible if anything’s broken or missing.”
“Are there any noise restrictions?” I asked.
“Not really. The rooms are as soundproof as possible. You can make as much noise as you want, any time of day. Just don’t play anything you don’t want the people at the dry cleaner to hear.”
She unlocked the door covered with the most stickers and pushed it open. A musty smell greeted us. The window was covered with a red curtain, letting in just enough light to makeout the outline of a couch on the left, a drum kit in the back, and a PA system mounted on the wall.
“Well, it’s all yours.” The keys jingled as the woman dropped them into Nora’s hands.
“Thanks a bunch,” Nora said.
“Don’t mention it,” she replied, shuffling away as we inspected the room.
Sebastian went straight to the window and pulled open the curtain, revealing the nicest view of another beige wall only three feet away. At least it was reflecting enough sunlight that we didn’t need to turn on the ceiling lights.
“I’m heading out to get some water and snacks for you guys,” Nora said, then darted out the door, taking the key with her.
As soon as we were alone, Sebastian smirked at me, probably thinking about our unfinished business, just like I was.
I laughed and tucked my chin into my shoulder. “You want to pick up where we left off already?”
“I do, of course…” His hands shot toward my face. He ran his thumb over my cheek, hovering his lips before mine for a second, but then pulled away with a smirk. “But I also want to get this right.”
That was one of the things I loved about him. As much as he liked to slack off or sneak away, he never hesitated to prioritize work when it mattered.
“Me too.”
“Sorry to put this on you, especially after the flight and everything.”
“No, let’s practice. This way, it’ll be even more of a reward tonight.”
It took halfan hour before we could get the playback running from my laptop through the PA system. Once that was set, we arranged my keyboard and Sebastian’s guitar, along with two microphones, creating two workstations facing each other. We had both practiced our parts at home, hoping we could piece everything together easily now.
Originally, we had wanted to meet two months earlier for a practice weekend, but we decided against it because of Sebastian’s finals. That was also when we chose not to involve other musicians yet. While having a live set of drums and even a string quartet would’ve certainly elevated everything, it also would’ve complicated things tenfold. For now, the strings and drums could come from my computer while we sang and played keyboard and guitar live. As far as I knew, it wasn’t uncommon for bands to use pre-recorded elements during concerts, so why should we worry more about it than others? Even with the successful crowdfunding, we were still as indie as a band could be. In the end, the most important thing was that we sounded as good as possible.
We spent the rest of the evening going through each song, and to my surprise, playing them live together wasn’t as difficult as I had expected. Sebastian was well prepared. His voice sounded just like it did on the recordings, and he had no trouble playing the guitar at the same time. I had to push past my reluctance to sing into a microphone in front of an audience, but after some encouragement from Seb and Nora, a brief nervous breakdown, and a five-minute hugging session with my boyfriend, I gave it another shot and somehow managed to let go of my fear and enjoy it.
By the end of the day, we weren’t quite ready for a concert, but we were getting closer. As the clock struck eleven, I could feel the fatigue from the flight and the jet lag catching up with me.
Raul picked us up again and drove us back home. It took only five minutes for Seb and me to end up in bed together. As soon as he wrapped his arms around me from behind, though, my eyes dropped shut.
I woke up the next morning to the bed shaking, only then realizing I had fallen asleep before we followed through on our promise to make out. Still a little drowsy, I propped myself up.
Seb sat at the foot of the bed in his underwear.
“Look who’s awake.” He reached under the comforter and caressed my ankles. “You still have a minute before Nora starts banging on the door.”
“I can’t believe it.” I let myself fall back onto the pillow, hiding my face behind my hands. “I missed my chance to make out with you.”
