Saturday, October 29
(Kate)
Coffee. I definitely need coffee. I was out with Keller, Shelly, and Duncan late last night. I didn't drink, but I had trouble sleeping. I'm going to need a big dose of caffeine to jump start my day. Rook's concert is tonight, and they'll be here early afternoon. I need to wake up.
There are a few people in line when I get to Grounds. Romero salutes and smiles at me as he takes money from a man in a suit. Keller's behind the bar with his back to me. I don't think he's noticed me yet when he takes an order from the brunette at the front of the line. She flirts. He doesn't. I laugh quietly to myself. God, I never really noticed it before, but Duncan was right; girls try so hard with him. He catches my eye and winks. It's subtle. If I wouldn't have been staring at him, I wouldn't have noticed. I wasn't the only one who noticed it seems. Someone else is staring. The brunette tosses her hair over her shoulder and scowls at me. And for one moment I feel a primal urge rise within me, a need to claim him somehow. I fight the overwhelming need to leap over the counter and kiss him senseless. But then I remember he isn't mine. The urge passes, and I'm left wondering what the hell just happened.
Finally, it's my turn. Keller pats Romero on the arm. "Can you get Katie's coffee, Rome? Large. Black. I'll be right back." He runs toward the door to his apartment. "And I'll pay for it, don't take her money," he calls back as he opens the door. He's back before Romero has the lid on and waves me to the other end of the counter, then walks around from behind it. He hands me a small envelope. Happy Birthday Katie is written on it. It's messy, boy handwriting. Maybe he should be a doctor instead of a lawyer. "Happy birthday, Katie," Keller says, smiling.
"Keller. What is this, birthday week? This isn't necessary. You took me out for dinner last night, remember?"
He shrugs. "That was from all of us." He smiles sweetly. "This is from me."
I open it. It's a twenty-dollar gift card to Grounds. "Thanks. It's perfect." Thinking back to our conversation a few weeks ago at the flower shop, I add, "Is this blackmail or bribery?"
"Neither. It's insurance."
"Insurance?"
"Yeah. That's twelve cups of coffee. Twelve trips to Grounds. Twelve chances to see you." He's wearing this cute, boyish smile. He's clean shaven again, giving him an irresistibly youthful look.
I hug him, kiss him on the cheek, and whisper in his ear before he lets me go, "Insurance sounds a lot like bribery." Then I pull away so I can look him in the eyes. "You don't need to bribe me, you know? I like hanging out with you. Thank you."
I expect his crooked smile, but his expression is still sweet and sincere. "You're welcome. I like hanging out with you, too, Katie." He gestures to the counter behind him. "Listen, I'd better get back to work, but I'll see you tonight. Can't wait for the concert."
"Rook's gonna kill it tonight." I wink as I walk backward away from him and toward the door. "Prepare yourself appropriately."
He laughs as he salutes. "Will do."
Gus texts a little after two o'clock: I'm here! We're at the venue
Me: Be there in 10 minutes
I grab my bag from my bed, and I'm on a flat-out run for my car. I'm checking my pockets for my car keys as I run down the steps to the parking lot when I see him leaning against the driver's door of my car. I run faster, and the huge grin on his face is infectious. He scoops me up in a hug and spins around, my feet flying high above the ground. I love Gus's hugs. He's so big; I get lost in his arms.
He sets me down and takes my face in his hands. "I can't believe it's really you, Bright Side. Skype is such a half-ass substitute for the real thing."
I agree. I smile and touch his hair. "You look good."
He shakes his head and then nods toward the building behind me. "So, this is your dorm?"
I nod.
"Then, by all means, give me the tour. I need to meet these characters you call friends. I don't have to be back for soundcheck until five o'clock."
We stop by Clay and Pete's room first. Clayton's in Minneapolis with Morris, but Pete's here. He's polite but timid at first until he and Gus talk for a few minutes, at which point he loosens up. Well, as much as Pete can loosen up, anyway. I tell Pete that Gus is in town for the show (and leave out that he is the show). Gus asks him where he's from, what his major is, and how he likes Minnesota. I think Pete's a little surprised by all the questions and by the fact that Gus is actually listening to his answers with interest. When I tell Gus we'd better let Pete go, Gus's eyes fall on a framed photo of Pete and Evelyn on the desk next to him and a wicked gleam flashes in his eyes. I don't like it. I've seen it before too many times. He's up to no good.
He picks up the frame. "This your girl, Pete?"
"Yes, her name's Evelyn," he confirms with a dimpled smile.
Gus sets the frame back down. "Cute couple. Tell me, does she like cowboys, Pete?"
"Cowboys?" His eyebrows pinch together at the odd question.
"Chaps, maybe?" Gus pushes.
Oh shit, he's going there.
Pete shrugs. "I don't know." He's confused.
Gus leans in like he's sharing top-secret information, but he never lowers his voice, "Dude, a word of advice, chicks dig chaps. A little role-playing livens up the bedroom." He raises an eyebrow and smiles like he's just done Pete a favor passing this along. "That's all I'm gonna say."
Pete's face flushes a bright red.
As I physically push Gus out of the room, I mouth, "I'm sorry," to Pete.
Gus calls back loudly over his shoulder, "Food for thought, dude. Food for thought."
Pete's shy smile emerges. "Thanks."
I punch Gus's shoulder as soon as we're safely behind the closed door of my dorm room. "I can't believe you just did that."
"What?" he says innocently. Then he bursts out laughing. "I just did the guy a favor. You saw his face when we left. He's considering it, dude. Evelyn will thank me for it, Bright Side. She'll fucking thank me."
I shake my head. Maybe he's right.
Sugar isn't here, so we can hang out and relax. Gus looks over every inch of the small room with the level of curiosity I've only seen in very small children, cats, and Gustov Hawthorne. He's not nosy or intrusive, but wants to know all the details...intimately. Whether it's a place, an object, or a woman, they command the kind of attention most people aren't capable of or don't take the time to give.
I walk him around campus and show him where all my classes are. He asks tons of questions about each one. If it were anyone else, I would think I was boring them, but not Gus. He's interested in everything in my life as much or more than he is in his own. The road goes both ways. It always has. It's one of the reasons we've been best friends so long.
Our time is drawing to a close, so we walk back to my car. "You want some coffee before we head to the auditorium?"
"Is this the infamous Grounds I always hear about?"
I nod.
"Hell yes. I was so excited to see you today that I didn't sleep much last night. I could use some coffee."
I smile. "Me, too."
The bell thunders on cue as Gus pushes the door open to Grounds. He startles and glares up at it while he holds the door open for me to enter. He ducks down and whispers in my ear, "What the fuck's with the bell?"
I laugh and agree. "Right?"
I do a double-take when I turn my attention toward the counter. It's not Keller or Romero. I've never seen this man. He's got to be in his mid-forties, and he's very handsome. He's tall and looks professional, even distinguished. His dark hair is graying at the temples, and his dark, serious eyes seem out of place here. His greeting is friendly as he smiles at us. "Welcome to Grounds."
And then it hits me. This must be Dan, Romero's partner. "Dan?"
He tentatively answers, "Yes."
I extend my hand as an introduction. "I've heard a lot about you. My name's Kate."
His eyes light up as if he's made an association. "Keller's Katie?"
Gus looks at me as if there's something he's missing and I'm looking equally as confused at Dan. "Um, I'm Keller's friend, yeah."
Dan shakes my hand two or three beats past what would be considered normal. "It's so nice to finally meet you. I've heard a lot about you, too."
I introduce Gus, and I can't help but notice Dan's a little cold to him.
I order my usual large, black coffee and Gus orders the same, and then predictably proceeds to add about a half cup of sugar to it after it's handed to him. It makes my teeth hurt every time I watch him do it.
Gus faces me in the car as we're buckling our seatbelts. "Bright Side, are you seeing someone?"
"No. Keller and I are just friends."
"Does he know that? Because that dude acted like a father meeting his daughter-in-law to be. It was kinda weird."
I tag along with Gus to Grant's auditorium. After hugs from the other three members of Rook, I sit in on soundcheck. I'm speechless. Playing every night for the past month has been good for them. They sound flawless. When we were all in San Diego, I used to hang out at their band rehearsals a lot. They were always working on new material and refining their sound, but that didn't stop them from messing around with covers. And I always got to sing the covers, because it was like karaoke with a live band. So it makes me happy when Gus asks, "You up for one song, Bright Side?"
I look around at the band, and they're all smiling at me. It feels like just another rehearsal despite the expanse of the empty auditorium we're standing in. With the band, it feels intimate and safe. I can't hide my smile. "What are you playing?"
Franco's twirling his drumstick between his fingers. I don't even think he realizes he does it—it's idle habit. "I vote for 'Sex.'"
"The act or the song?" I tease.
He rubs his chin like he's thinking about it. "Can I say both?"
Gus is adjusting the microphone down for me while I climb up on stage with them. "No, you can't. And we're not playing 'Sex,'" he says.
"Why not?" I ask. "That's a great song. You like The 1975."
Gus smiles and shakes his head before he looks back over his shoulder at Franco. "Because, Bright Side, think about it. Franco's got ulterior motives. You singing that song would be—"
Franco's nodding and grinning ear to ear when he interrupts. "Girl on girl."
Gus shakes his head. "She isn't singing with us just to fuel your fantasies, dickhead."
Franco laughs good-naturedly. He shrugs. "I had to try."
Gus is switching out his guitar. "Let's do 'Panic Switch.'"
He knows I love that song. The whole band does. Like all of Silversun Pickups' best songs, this one is controlled chaos. If you dissect the song and listen to the drums, bass, guitar, and vocals all separately, it sounds like four completely different songs. Put them together and it's genius. "Hell yes, I'm in."
After Gus messes with his effects pedals, he kicks off the song and just like that it's on. It feels good to let loose and sing again. Plus, everyone's into it. I sing and dance around the stage like it's just the five of us in Gus's basement. They sound so good.
I text Keller, Shelly, Clayton, and Pete when we're done to let them know I'll meet them at the show before I squeeze the band into my car and take them to Minneapolis for dinner before the show. The options in Grant are limited. The show starts at nine o'clock so we have plenty of time to eat, drink (I'm the driver, so I stick with water) and catch up on lost time. Things haven't changed a bit. Jamie is still the sweet one; Franco is still the flirtatious, sarcastic one; and Robbie is still the quiet one. Friendship with them, especially Franco, has always come easily. It's natural and comfortable. We respect and support each other.
I take a minute during our drive back to Grant to have them weigh in on a topic of contention. "Guys, I have a question for you. Am I a bad driver?"
Gus's neck snaps to look directly at me from the passenger seat. There's shock in his eyes. But before he can open his mouth it's Franco's voice I hear from behind me. "Define bad."
"I don't know, dude. Dangerous. Do you feel like your life is in peril with me behind the wheel?"
It's Gus's turn. "There's nothing wrong with your driving. Who told you that? I taught you how to drive, remember?"
I wave my finger in the air as I dismiss him. "And that is exactly why you're biased. Zip it, you don't get to answer the question." I glance in my rearview mirror at my three backseat passengers. "Guys?"
Jamie's grinning back at me. "Why are you asking?"
I glance at the road quickly before I lock eyes with him in the mirror again. "Someone may have voiced a fairly strong level of concern after riding with me."
Robbie laughs next to Jamie and says, "What Kate's trying to say is that she scared the hell out of a passenger."
I smile a guilty smile. "Or two."
Gus starts in, "That's bullsh—," but I cut him off by raising my finger in the air between us again. He slumps back against his seat.
Franco bumps the back of my seat with his knee hard enough that I feel it. "Don't sweat it, Kate. They're pussies. You're a fast, aggressive driver. Nothing wrong with that. Next topic please."
I can see Gus smiling out of the corner of my eye. The validation in that smile alone makes me feel better.
(Keller)
I can't lie. I was disappointed when I received the text from Katie saying she'd meet us at the show tonight. We never discussed it, but I'd assumed that we would all hang out before the show and then ride over together. And now I've lost that time with her. I look forward to every minute I get to spend with her. Every minute of every day wouldn't be enough.
But, I was crushed when I went to Grounds to grab a cup of coffee around six o'clock, and Dan told me that Katie was here earlier. And that she was here with some guy. He couldn't remember his name but said he was tall and muscular with blond hair. The description didn't ring any bells. I pressed him, and he said, "I'm sorry." Good news never starts with "I'm sorry." He said they looked very comfortable with each other. That he had his arm around her when they walked out of Grounds, and he kissed her on the forehead before they got in the car. Shit. Why didn't I just tell her how I felt about her? Now she's with someone else. Or maybe she's been with him all along. I knew I shouldn't have opened up my heart to her. She's going to break me in two. I've known it since the moment I laid eyes on her. She'd never hurt anyone intentionally, but it's inevitable...it will happen. It's my own damn fault. Still, this feeling sucks. And I know it's irrational, but I'm pissed at her, too. There's no way I'm going to that show tonight.
After I make my nightly call home to Chicago, I go straight for the only bottle of liquor we have in the apartment: tequila. Tequila is a fantastic distraction, and it numbs terrifically. I know because by the time Dunc and Shel come by to pick me up at 8:30 pm, the bottle's empty and I'm willingly on my way to the concert I swore a few hours ago I would avoid at all costs.
Shel's been texting Katie the whole time we've been standing in line to get in the auditorium. She relays to Dunc and I that Katie was having dinner with some old friends that are in town for the show. Yeah, I know she with was out with a friend. That's why I'm so fucking wasted right now.
By the time I stagger into the place, the band's taking the stage, and the crowd's going ballistic. After Shel spends some time shouting into her phone to try and locate Katie in the mob, we push our way through hundreds of other college kids to find Katie and a couple of friends of hers. I've met Clayton once before when he came into Grounds with Katie, but I don't recognize anyone else. None of them are tall and blond like Dan described. I exhale the breath I've been holding because at least she's not with him. I don't want to look at her, but I can't help myself. She's just as beautiful as every other time I've seen her. Her hair is down and messy like it always is. Messy like she's just crawled out of bed...after having sex. Shit. She has on one of her homemade T-shirts that would look ridiculous on anyone else but looks perfect on her. It hugs her body in all the right places. This one says I heart San Diego. I don't think I've ever seen it before. She's smiling at me like she's happy to see me. God, how I wish that were true.
Her small hands grip my bicep, and though I'm numb to the physical sensation of most everything else, the contact isn't lost on me. Her hands are cold like they always are, but my skin warms to her touch.
"I'm so glad you're here!" she yells in my ear over the music.
I can't help myself. "Where's your friend?" My words are slurred and angry. They don't sound like my own.
She pulls back to look at me, stunned. "Are you drunk?"
"Thoroughly," I say. "Dan said you were at Grounds this afternoon with a friend." I wrap the word in air quotes and regret it immediately. Why am I being such a dick? It's not like we're together.
She wraps friend in air quotes when she responds, "My friend is here. You guys will meet him after the show." She looks hurt and turns her attention back to the stage. After some shuffling, she ends up sandwiched with Shel on one side and Clayton on the other. I make sure I'm always directly behind her. She never stands still, so it's like aiming for a moving target.
The music is just sound, noise in my ears, for the first several songs. I let it fill me. It numbs like the tequila I'm currently drowning in. I'm not even looking at the stage. I feel like a fucking sicko, but I can't take my eyes off Katie. Her back is to me, only inches away, and the way she moves to the music has me stretching my usual fantasies to extreme levels. Visions of ripping her clothes off and taking her ten different ways right here in front of everyone fill my head.
The songs are running together, but soon the haze lifts a little, and the cacophony turns into words and guitars and drums. My anger begins to burn off with the alcohol. Maybe it's the indecent thoughts I've been having about her, or maybe it's just the fact that it's Katie and I don't think anyone could ever really be mad at her, or maybe it's just that I'm standing so damn close to her that I realize I shouldn't take my time with her for granted.
The next song is a slow ballad. The rest of the band has left the stage, and the singer has switched out his electric guitar for an acoustic one. I have to admit that this guy is talented. The song is sad, and even though my drunken mind can't make out every word, I know it's about losing someone you care for. It's obvious the song is personal; his voice is stripped down and wounded. It feeds some deep longing in me, and I can't help reaching for physical contact. I rest my hands on Katie's hips, and when she doesn't object, I splay my fingers and slowly slide them across her stomach. The tips of my thumbs brush the underside of her breasts and my pinkies drag along the waistband of her jeans. Her T-shirt is thin; I can feel what she looks like underneath. She leans back into me and lets me hold her. Her palms smooth over my forearms and fire tears a path across my skin.
I must be losing my fucking mind. Everything was simple before I met her. I did everything I was supposed to, when I was supposed to, how I was supposed to. And now? Now I have my arms wrapped around her. And she has a boyfriend. And she's gorgeous. I can't stop obsessing about her and I'm two seconds away from doing something really foolish.
One second...
I can't stop.
I rest my chin gently on top of her head and let my cheek skim down her waves. I inhale deeply. She smells so good. Her body stills, but her arms don't release mine. I take that as permission. I burrow just beneath her ear and run the tip of my nose shamelessly up and down her neck. My heart is pounding and I know she feels it. One of her hands drops and wraps itself around the back of my upper thigh just below my ass. Her head drops slightly to one side allowing me better access. I press my body into her. She presses back. The advanced, physical state of my arousal should be embarrassing in this crowd of people, but I'm too drunk and turned on to care. Besides, we're packed in here like sardines and everyone's focused on the stage. No one else will notice. My lips press against her neck. It's warm and soft and dewy. I could devour her. I release her from my lips and just as the tip of my tongue makes contact, the hottest moment of my life comes to an abrupt end.
The song is over, and the crowd erupts into deafening applause, which puts everyone in motion. We're torn from the moment by simple physics, a chain reaction of movement, one body against the next.
Dunc elbows me, and when I catch his eye, he raises his eyebrows and smiles. The bastard sees everything.
Katie looks back at me. The corner of her bottom lip is captured between her teeth. Her darkened eyes search mine before they settle on my mouth. My heart stutters.
Shel, who's been pounding beers all night and is as drunk as I am, proves to be my buzzkill. She's jumping up and down like a teenager on crack, hugging Katie and slurring something about how much she loves that song and how hot the singer is.
The nail in the coffin comes when the rest of the band takes the stage again, and the singer takes off his sweat-soaked T-shirt while he's swapping out his guitar. Every female in the building screams, except Katie, who's shaking her head and smiling. The heightened energy in the crowd seems to be carrying her further from me.
The singer takes the microphone from the stand and motions for the crowd to quiet down. They do. I have to give the douchebag props; he's owned the crowd all night. He's got them eating out of his hand. "We have one last song for you tonight. Unfortunately, when we perform this song live, it sounds nothing like the version on the album because you're stuck with my shitty voice singing every word." Laughter rumbles through the crowd, and he raises his hands to hush them again. "You see, we have this very talented friend who has the voice of a goddamn angel. She's the one that makes this song so special, but as you can see," he gestures back to his bandmates, "she's not in the band." The crowd is in a frenzy because they know the song he's talking about. So do I. It's "Killing the Sun." They've been playing the hell out of it on the college station, and it's a good song, but he's right; the woman's voice is what makes it. It's the kind of voice you feel in your bones. It's sexy; vulnerable and confident at the same time.
After another pause to quiet the crowd, he continues. "Well, I have some good news for you, Grant." He looks back at the drummer, and though he's not talking into the mic the words are picked up for all of us to hear, "Dude, she's gonna be so fucking pissed at me." And back to the audience, "She's in the building, and I'm really hoping she'll come up and sing with us tonight." The crowd cheers, whistles, stomps.
We're about thirty feet from the stage, and I can't help but notice he's staring in our general direction.
"Come on, Bright Side, don't make me beg." He drops to his knees and clasps his hands in front of his broad, bare, muscled chest. The guy looks like Thor from the movies. "Please...please..." He motions to the crowd to join in his pleas. They do. Everyone in the building is begging now, me included, because with a voice like that I want to see what this woman looks like.
He shakes his head and laughs. "Okay, you asked for it. You can come up here on your own or I'm coming out to get you. It's your choice." His crosses his massive arms over his chest and pauses a few seconds. "I warned you." Without hesitation, he drops the microphone and jumps down off the stage, climbs over the railing holding back the masses, and makes his way through the crowd. Of course, every woman wants to touch him, so his progress is slow, but when he finally stops, he's standing in front of Clayton, who looks like he's about to pass out. That's when I notice that Katie is crouched down behind Clayton, as if trying to hide. He reaches around Clayton and taps Katie on the shoulder. When she looks up, he's crooking his finger at her.
She shakes her head. "Not gonna happen, dude," she yells.
"Come on, Bright Side. I really don't wanna make a scene."
She straightens and squares off against him. "It's a little fucking late for that, don't you think?"
He looks around. Every eye in the place is on him. He shrugs. "Probably." The words are no sooner out of his mouth than he's reached around Clayton and thrown her over his shoulder like she weighs nothing. Her body goes limp as she concedes defeat.
What.
The.
Hell?
I look around, and everyone in Katie's group of friends is confused. At least I'm not the only one. She sings? How did this never come up? She's on the fucking radio! Why didn't she tell us?
By now, he's lifting her up on the stage and climbing up behind her. The bass player walks up and puts his arm around her while the singer adjusts his microphone down to her level. When he's done, she approaches and looks out at the crowd. The mic picks up what she thinks is a private conversation. "Oh. Shit. Would you look at all these people?"
The drummer calls out, "Don't fuck this up, Kate."
She flips him off without turning around to face him. He laughs. She's got attitude—I love that about her.
The singer slings his guitar strap across him and takes his place at a microphone a few feet from her. He's grinning at her like he's enjoying the hell out of this. She scowls back, but there's a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "I'm gonna fucking kill you. You know that, right?"
The audience laughs and cheers, waiting to see what happens. As the singer strums the first chords of the song, he says, "Just wait until after the song, Bright Side, then I'm all yours."
Maybe it's all the alcohol in my system, but what follows is like a surrealistic dream. As the music builds, Katie looks so small, yet so powerful up there. Every time she opens her mouth her eyes flutter closed, and she brings forth this unbelievably massive wave of sound that washes over me. It's the sonic equivalent of great sex. The song is about living and loving in an infinite moment. Treating this night as if it's your last and you can make it last forever. You can chase away the morning, the end, by killing the sun. It's an anthem. The crowd is jumping, moshing, singing. The energy in this place is insane. Thousands of people are living through the song, through its words.
And each and every one of them is in love with Katie. She's given herself over to them. She's lost in it. After she sings her last verse, she backs away from the microphone stand, trying to take the attention away from herself I'm sure. She kind of bounces in place to the beat. She's watching the rest of the band with an open-mouthed smile, like she doesn't want to miss a second of what's happening around her. That's one of the best things about Katie; she never takes anything for granted. She appreciates it all.
The drummer and bass player join in to sing the last few lines of the song with the lead singer. The harmony is right on, and Katie's smile widens as she watches them.
The moment the song is lost to silence, the singer's shouting into the microphone, "Let's hear it for my girl!" He runs over, shifting his guitar to his back and lifts her into a hug, swinging her around. She holds on tight. She's laughing. It feels wrong to watch them—too personal—too private. But I can't look anywhere else.
My heart sinks again. Of course, this is the guy she was at Grounds with. A fucking rock star. How am I supposed to compete with that? The anger and hurt creep back in again. I hate it, but I'm jealous as hell.
The band shouts out words of thanks and leaves the stage, and when the masses are satisfied that there will be no encore, they begin to disperse. Katie is standing on the floor in front of the stage, but behind the barricade, waiting for us. Two big security guards are standing in front of her and won't let the crowd near her.
Now that we can all hear each other, introductions are made back and forth between the friends Katie has gathered. I'm polite, but so pissed I can't remember their names two seconds after I hear them. After everyone agrees Katie stole the show and that they had no idea she had this secret identity, we head over as a group to congratulate her. Well, the rest of group congratulates her. I'm pissed, and horny, and drunk, and completely in awe; it's a bad combination. I can't look at her.
We all show our VIP tickets and are cleared through security to follow her backstage. She has no idea where she's going, but Shel is hell-bent on meeting the guy I would love to punch in the goddamn face.
We run into the drummer. His head is shaved bald, and his arms are covered in tattoos. The guy would look threatening if he wasn't constantly smiling. He hugs Katie. "Kate, you sounded like shit. Thanks for ruining the whole fucking show."
She smiles devilishly. "And your beats sucked ass, dude. Clearly this playing every night thing isn't working for you."
He laughs. "I miss having you around, girl." He plants a kiss on top of her head before he releases her.
She introduces us to him. His name's Frank or Fred, I don't know. I'm too drunk and pissed to care.
He gestures to a door down the hall when she asks where the rest of the band is. The door leads outside behind the auditorium. There's a tour bus parked with its engine running. The douchebag is leaning up against a wall smoking a cigarette. When he sees Katie, his fucking face lights up like it's Christmas. He drops the cigarette, steps on it, and walks our way.
What happens next is a blur of emotion, alcohol, and disregard. In no particular order:
Introductions. He's her best friend, Gus. The guy she's known her whole life. The guy she told me she fucking slept with before she moved here. I really hate him now.
Photos and autographs for the others.
Shel projectile vomits next to the bus.
Clayton and his friend and the other guy and girl leave.
Gus wraps his arms around Katie. (It should be me with my arms around her.)
He tells her how amazing she was tonight. (It should be me.)
He tells her how proud he is of her. (It should be me.)
He tells her how much he misses her. (I miss her, and she's standing five feet from me.)
The driver opens the door of the bus and hollers, "Gustov, train's leaving in two minutes."
She's wearing a sad smile. She doesn't want him to leave. Seeing that smile is killing me.
He squeezes her tight and kisses her forehead. "Thanks, Bright Side. I'll talk to you tomorrow. I love you."
When she answers, "I love you, too, Gus," I come undone.
"Why didn't you tell me you were with him?" My voice sounds strangled and desperate. Is this really me?
"What?" She's confused. "Gus and I aren't together."
He releases her.
I step toward her. "You are such a terrible liar," I say, too loudly.
She's jerked from sight, and I'm suddenly chin-to-chest with him. "No one fucking talks to her like that." It's a threat if I've ever heard one.
I want him to punch me. Put me out of my misery. So, I narrow my eyes and taunt, "I wasn't talking to you, bro." I can be such a prick when I'm drunk.
His patience with me is wearing thin; I can feel it. "You don't know me. Don't fucking bro me."
And there's my in. "Blow me."
My shirt is now balled up in his fist. "What the fuck did you just say?"
Before I can answer, someone's restraining me from behind. It's not until I hear Dunc's loud, steady voice in my ear, "That's enough, Banks," that I make the correlation between the vise-like hold on my biceps and the fact that I'm being backed away from this disaster my mouth started. My T-shirt splits down the center when I'm yanked free of Gus's grasp. All the while Dunc continues trying to talk some sense into me. "Chill out, man. You're done here."
Katie's in front of me again. "He's my best friend, Keller. What's the problem?" She's not mad, but she looks hurt.
I cough out a crazed laugh. "What's the problem?" I lower my voice so only she can hear me. "The problem is I don't fuck my best friends." Her face drops. I have her attention, and I know I should shut up, but my mouth keeps spewing, "Kinda blurs the lines, doesn't it?" Dunc's dragging me away, and I'm not fighting him anymore. I point at him. "You win, bro." My voice sounds choked. I repeat myself. "You win." The anger rises in me again as I admit defeat. "She's all yours."
The next thing I know, I'm in the Green Machine. Shel's passed out on a beanbag in the back. Dunc reams me out the entire drive home. I'm in no mood to hear it.
That's about all I remember before I pass out in my bed, but not before puking all over it.