Mia
The band is great.
Oliver is a talented guitarist and his voice suits the songs they’ve chosen, a little scratchy at times maybe, but that only adds to its character. And when everyone around me starts dancing and screaming, staring up at him on the stage, I can’t believe it’s me who gets to take him home tonight. He isn’t in costume, which is kind of a bummer, but I can’t deny how good he looks in his tight T-shirt and a pair of jeans that shows off his cute butt. Jeans that will be on my bedroom floor in a matter of hours.
‘Isn’t he amazing?’ I say to Jenna when he finally leaves the stage and the DJ’s music flows through the speakers again. Weak compared to Oliver and his band.
‘He’s fine.’ She looks like I’m asking her to pull out her own teeth. ‘I need another drink, you want one?’
‘No, thanks.’
There’s only one thing I want and he’s currently standing at the side of the stage, guitar in hand.
‘And, we’ve lost her,’ Alice says, grabbing Jenna’s hand. ‘We’ll be at the bar if you need us. It was nice knowing you, Mia.’
‘The bar,’ I mumble back, not really listening.
I squeeze through the crowd of bodies to get to Oliver, my towel hanging on for dear life, but when I reach him, I don’t know whatto say. He’s dripping with sweat, his T-shirt almost transparent and clinging to his body, his eyes feverish and bright.
‘Hi.’
I barely make a sound but the other guys in the band look me up and down in a way I do not love.
‘One sec.’ Oliver holds up a hand to hold me back without looking at me. ‘Johnny, you’ve got to stay on the beat,’ he says to the drummer. ‘If you can’t play a fucking Journey cover, how are you going to stay on top of my stuff? It’s a thousand times more complicated.’
‘Ol, I passed grade eight when I was fourteen. I’ve been drumming since I was two. I could hold a pair of sticks before I could walk and you don’t think I can keep time on a cover of “Don’t Stop Believin’”?’ Johnny shakes his head. ‘I don’t know what you were listening to, mate, but it was pretty fucking perfect as far as I’m concerned.’
‘All that tells me is we have very different standards,’ Oliver mutters.
‘Don’t take this the wrong way but do fuck off, Oli,’ the bassist says cheerfully. ‘It’s a bop, we’re a covers band. We’ll worry about your very complicated music when you book us an actual gig.’
Oliver’s top lip flickers into a snarl as the two of them stroll away, Johnny shoving his sticks in his back pocket, leaving the two of us alone. Before I can say anything, he turns to his open guitar case, adjusting the Fender Strat inside before closing it carefully.
‘I thought you sounded great,’ I tell him. ‘Everyone loved the show.’
‘It was shit,’ he replies, still not looking at me.
‘Not even a little bit. Even Jenna said how talented you are.’
His shoulders jerk with a snort. ‘Even Jenna?’
Fine, he’s mad at his bandmates, I get that, but is he going to let it ruin the rest of his night? Our night?
‘They’re probably embarrassed,’ I offer lightly. ‘That’s why they said those shitty things.’
‘Whatever, they’re talentless hacks. I’d rather not be reminded of them.’
He turns around and there’s a pinched, twitchy quality to his features I haven’t seen before and would rather not see again. ‘You’re wearing a towel.’
Looking down at my outfit, I suddenly feel inexplicably stupid. What was I thinking? This isn’t me. I’m not the kind of girl who can pull off something like this.
‘It’s my costume,’ I reply, quietly wishing I could start this conversation over, preferably in my own clothes. ‘I told you about it.’
‘Did you?’ Oliver rubs a hand over his face and heaves out a heavy sigh. ‘Sorry, this isn’t about you. I’m a perfectionist when it comes to the music. Really, I’m sorry. I need a drink.’
‘You stay here, I’ll go to the bar,’ I offer, certain that he’ll feel better in five minutes. He’s disappointed, it makes sense. At least he’s self-aware enough to admit it. ‘Whiskey, right?’
The look that follows brightens up his gloomy face and I exhale for the first time in what feels like several minutes.
