“But I like, never see you, Kay. You can’t come to Ottawa and then refuse to go out dancing with me, especially after I very generously gave you somewhere to stay.”

“Lily,” I groan, “don’t guilt me into this. You know I’m going to give in.”

“Exactly. That’s why I’m doing it.”

I’m sprawled on the bed in my friend Lily’s cramped studio apartment, recharging after the Sherbrooke Station show. Lily has lived here since we were in university together, and not much seems to have changed. The walls are covered in mandala tapestries, and the whole place reeks of weed.

My travel allowance from La Gare was so small I had to choose between getting a hotel room and being able to afford to eat. Since I knew Lily would probably be up for hosting, I chose the latter. Plus, she’s right: I like, never see her.

“Oh my god, Kay, first you don’t take me to see Sherbrooke Station, and then you make me spend a perfectly good Friday night shut up in here watching you go over your journalism notes.”

“You can go out,” I tell her. “I don’t mind.”

She pounces on the bed, grabbing hold of my legs. Her long blonde and pink hair tickles the back of my thighs.

“But I want to go out with youuuu.”

“Ugh, fine, but I’m not going to a shitty Ottawa club. We can have a beer at a bar and then I’m going to bed.”

She sits up and pouts at me. “Sigh.”

“Did you just say ‘sigh’ instead of actually sighing?”

“Shut up, Kay.”

I shift myself until I’m sitting up too. “Oh, and no bringing any girls home tonight. Unlike in college, I don’t have my own place to go back to when you bail on your offer to let me crash so you can hook up.”

To say that Lily likes girls is an understatement. The bed I’m currently sitting on has had more women cycle through it than the Playboy mansion. Normally I’d be high-fiving her for the accomplishment. Lily doesn’t take shit from anyone, and confidence surrounds her like some kind of mystical aura.

The only problem is that once said aura has helped her get a hold of a hot girl, she ends up retracting the offer to let me sleep here. During our nights out in university she was always telling me I could stay at her place instead of trying to make it back to my apartment across town. Things rarely worked out that way.

We’re out the door in twenty minutes and make it downtown just before midnight, when things are really starting to pick up. We head into a crowded pub, and it’s not long before Lily’s chatting someone up. I mostly keep to myself for the next hour, sipping on my beer and thinking over the Sherbrooke Station concert.

I could have watched from the press section right in front of the stage, but I asked for a seat near the back. I wanted to gauge the crowd’s reaction and get a chance to interview some audience members during the intermission. Most people there were the screaming fangirls I expected to see. When half the audience spent the opening act with their asses in their seats taking selfies, I settled in to spend the rest of the night as bored as all the boyfriends who got dragged along to the show.

Then nearly all the lights cut out and an eerie, pulsing synth beat started up. I caught myself squeezing the armrests of my chair, not even sure what I was bracing myself for as the whole room went silent and then got so loud with screaming that for a second, my brain was nothing but noise.

A ‘Sherbrooke Station’ sign made to look like a Montreal Metro stop flickered to life in the darkness, and that’s when everyone stood up and absolutely lost it. The entire audience rushed the stage the second the spotlights switched on, painting the band in blue and green lights as they launched right into ‘Split Knuckles.’

I stayed in my seat long after the second encore ended, watching the diehards beg roadies for set lists and guitar picks. I’ve been to enough shows in my life to recognize a rocky performance when I see one; I noticed the scowls the guys were all shooting each other for missing queues, and how JP and Cole kept ducking off stage between songs. For most of the show Sherbrooke Station sounded like four people all stuck inside their own heads, but when they did manage to get their act together, they were a tidal wave of sound. Their music was something unstoppable, a force of nature that leaves you standing there staring in terror and awe as you’re swept up into the current.

Ace worked the room like a hypnotist, drawing every eye and a sea of stretching hands whenever he got close to the crowd, but I couldn’t look away from Matt. He was wild on stage, sweat soaking his hair as he played with a fury I could feel all the way down to my bones.

“That’s her over there, being antisocial.”

I look over my shoulder to see Lily with her arm slung around the waist of a petite brunette girl who looks way too innocent to mess around with the constant disco rave hurricane that is Lily, but she always did go for the bashful type.

“Say hi, Kay!”

I give them a wave and pull out my phone to avoid getting called in to be Lily’s wing-woman. That’s when I notice I have a text from Matt:

You snuck away pretty fast. Didn’t feel like coming to our glamorous, star-studded after party?

I text back, asking if there’s seriously a star-studded after party in Ottawa, one of the most boring capitals known to the world. He answers right away.

Okay, I lied. It’s shit. It’s just us and the crew at a pub downtown. I’m going to bail soon.

Coincidentally, I reply, I’m at a pub downtown too, and also probably going to bail soon.

He asks me what the place is called and it turns out he’s just across the street. I haven’t even typed out another message when he tells me to give him five minutes.

I did just tell you I’m about to bail, I text him, but okay.

At exactly the five minute mark, Matt Pearson comes striding into the room.

He seems to glide through the crowd like it’s his superpower. People slide out of the way and watch him from over their shoulders. I don’t think any of them even know who he is; he just seems to move with a rhythm that’s impossible to ignore.

I swallow down the last of my beer and brace myself for Mission Impossible.

Rule Number Two, I chant to myself as he walks up and leans against the wall beside me. Remember Rule Number Two.

“You know when I said I was going to bail, I meant I was going to bed.”

Great. One sentence into the conversation and I bring up the topic of going to bed.

“I did too, but I figured we could at least bail together. Seems less pathetic that way.”

“Are you calling me pathetic?”

“Not directly.” He shifts to face me, bracing one forearm on the wall above his head. “Although, when I see a cute girl standing alone in a corner at a crowded bar with an empty beer, I can’t help getting sympathetic.”

“Maybe I like standing alone in corners.”

I ignore the ‘cute’ comment, and how he’s so close I can feel the heat of him on my skin. That damn eyebrow piercing is doing things to heart rate.

Matt chuckles. “You should hang out with Cole. That’s all he ever does. Where are you staying, anyway? Did La Gare put you up in some fancy suite?”

“Ha,” I bark. “La Gare barely gave me enough money to get here. I’m staying with her.”

I gesture over to where I last saw Lily, and find her with her tongue down the brunette girl’s throat as every guy in a ten-foot radius leers at them. I’m going to have to step in soon if I want a place to sleep tonight.

“It looks like she might have forgotten about that, though,” I mutter.

Matt follows the direction of my gaze.

“That’s disgusting,” he says firmly.

My jaw drops open and I jump away from him. “Excuse me?”

He looks confused for a moment before understanding passes over him and he rushes to explain himself.

“Not them. Jesus, Kay, I’m not a monster.” He points towards the crowd of guys surrounding Lily and her conquest. “I mean all those douchebags swarming around them. I just want to go over and tell them all to get a fucking life.”

His fists clench, and he looks like he’s about ready to go and do just that. I stare at him for a few seconds, feeling a touch of the same awe I did after his speech during my interview this evening.

“Oh, don’t worry,” I tell him, after getting my composure back, “she’s perfectly capable of doing that herself. I am kind of pissed, though.”

I fill him in on Lily’s track record with hosting me. He laughs at my expense and then agrees that it is pretty shitty of her.

“She has good intentions,” I explain. “It’s just when boobs come into the equation, she kind of forgets about them.”

Matt grins and looks away. “Well, I can’t blame her for that.”

I’m trying to think of a comeback when the song filling the bar switches and ‘Bad Habit’ by The Kooks comes on. Matt starts tapping the beat out on the wall, mouthing along with the words.

I give him a once over. “You like The Kooks?”

“Who doesn’t? I’ve seen them play four times.”

“Four? Lucky. I’ve only caught them once, at Osheaga one year.”

We slip into a conversation about the band that leads into one about another band and then another, until eventually we’re discussing the entire current state of indie rock in Britain. Matt turns out to have impeccable taste, and I even enjoy when we disagree over a few groups and fire off insults at each other until we find someone else to discuss. I don’t even notice the time flying by until Lily lurches over with the brunette in tow, both of them giggling.

“Me and Emily are heading out now, Kay.” She leans forwards to whisper to me in a voice that comes out loud enough for everyone around us to hear. “She’s nineteen, Kay! She still lives in a dorm, so we have to go back to mine.”

I lean forward too, mocking her secretive tone. “Actually Lily, you can’t take her back to yours. I have to go back to yours.”

“Oh riiiiight,” she groans. She glances beside us and spots Matt trying to hold in a laugh. “Just go home with him.”

She wiggles her fingers at Matt and he wiggles his back.

“Yeah, Kay, just go home with me,” he whisper-yells.

Lily beams at him and I glare.

“Lily, you’re seriously doing this to me?” I demand, not caring if Emily overhears us anymore.

Matt cuts in. “Actually, Kay, we have two doubles at our hotel. From the looks of things at the pub, I don’t think Ace is coming back tonight, and I don’t mind crashing with JP and Cole, so you could have the other room.”

I don’t hesitate. “I’m not taking your hotel room.”

Lily doesn’t seem to have heard my answer. “Awesome! We’re gonna go now. Have fun, Kay. He’s hot.”

She turns and grabs Emily by the hand, stumbling away before I can give her a firm ‘no.’

“Wait!” I shout. “Lily, get the hell back here! LILY!”

Matt’s having a laugh attack behind me. “She,” he chokes out, “is something.”

“Oh she’s something all right,” I mutter darkly. “I’m going after her.”

“Kay, wait.” He reaches for my elbow. “Why don’t you just take the room? You can yell at her for being a shitty friend tomorrow. I’m pretty sure it’s not going to make much of a difference right now.”

“I’m not taking your hotel room,” I repeat. “I’m not kicking you out and taking an entire double room for myself just because Lily is the worst host ever.”

“So don’t kick me out, then.”

I blink. “Are you... Are you sugge—”

“Calm yourself, Kay.” He gives me a look that makes me anything but calm. “I’m suggesting you take one bed and I take the other. Or you take both and I room with JP and Cole—whatever you want. I’m just not leaving you in a bar with nowhere to go.”

“Or I could go to Lily’s place and kick the nineteen year-old out.”

Matt’s already walking away.

“Or you could follow me one block up the street,” he calls, “and have a whole room to yourself. Come on.”

By the time we make it to the hotel and up to the fifth floor, I’m still refusing to take the room. Matt just forges on ahead, swiping his key card at a door down the hall and peering inside.

“Yeah, no sign of Ace. He had a girl in his lap when I left the pub, so I’m pretty sure he’ll be occupied until morning. I’ll text him and tell him I need the room.” He steps back and sweeps his hand towards the doorway. “All yours.”

“Matt...”

I’ve finally caught up to him. We stand on either side of the door. His face is flushed from the cold outside and I know mine must be too. I can hear the blood rushing in my ears as the space between us narrows and the smell of him, sharp and masculine, seems like something solid, wrapping itself around me and pulling me closer.

I break away, turning to step into the room.

“Just take the other fucking bed.”

* * *

It’s past two in the morning when I’m finally settled into one of the double beds, wearing a tank top of Matt’s that fits me like a dress. I’m sitting with my back against the headboard, blankets pulled up to my chest as I wait for him to come out of the bathroom and get into bed.

This was necessary, I tell myself. It was unprofessional, but necessary. I had nowhere else to sleep.

I repeat that over and over again, trying to drown out the fact that I know I could have chased after Lily at the bar and made her keep her promise.

Totally, totally necessary.

Matt steps out of the bathroom, still in his jeans and t-shirt. I pretend to be reading something on my phone as I listen to him unbuckle his belt and drop the jeans on the floor before pulling back the crisp hotel sheets.

“Been wondering what that was.”

I look up and see him sitting up against the headboard like me, pointing over at my shoulder. I follow his gaze to my tattoo, exposed except for the strap of the tank top. A black ink drawing of a round shield covers the front of my shoulder, crossed by a sword whose tip ends just beneath my collar bone.

“It’s nice,” Matt says. “Really well done.”

“I got it in Hamilton,” I tell him. “That’s where I’m from.”

He doesn’t push for any more information about the design.

“Hamilton, eh?” He stretches his arms up in the air, and I make myself look away from the muscles rolling under his own ink. “I’m from Sudbury. Moved to Montreal to go to McGill.”

“And that’s how you met Ace,” I add.

“Yeah,” Matt agrees. “Until he flunked out.”

“And then you travelled Europe together for a summer and realized how much you wanted to start a band. You saw JP perform at an open mic one night and asked him to join you. Ace already knew Cole through friends of friends and offered him a spot as your bassist. Your first gig was a house party. You recorded your debut EP in JP’s uncle’s basement.”

Matt gawks at me and I smirk. “I read your Wikipedia page. It’s kind of my job.”

He recovers himself after a moment and shakes his head. “Pretty good, but you’re missing some details. For example, Ace actually found Cole through his weed dealer, but we like to keep that off Wikipedia.”

I laugh and tilt my head to the side. “Should you really be confiding in a journalist?”

“Maybe not.” He reaches for the lamp on the table between us. “But I have this weird feeling I can trust you.”

I feel my heartbeat quicken. “Guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

The light clicks off and we’re both hidden in shadow. I hear Matt shifting around in bed and lay back on my pillow, after setting my glasses down on the nightstand. I know I should be sleeping like the dead right now, after getting up so early to catch the bus to Ottawa, but my breath seems to be getting faster, not slower, as I lie in the dark next to Matt’s bed. It would be so easy to whisper his name, to pull back the blankets and slip in beside him, let him lift his tank top up over my head...

“Did you like the show?”

I go completely still. I thought he’d be asleep by now.

“I—I did,” I stammer. “I think you already know it wasn’t flawless, but I mean, the energy...The crowd was just...I haven’t felt anything like that in a while.”

For some reason, it’s easier to be honest with the light off.

“You play like it’s everything you have.”

“I told you,” he answers, “it is.”

“It really means that much to you, doesn’t it?”

“I think it means that much to you too, Kay. I read some of your articles”—my heart starts hammering as I wait for him to tell me he knows everything about Last Bastion—“in La Gare.”

I try not to let out a sigh of relief as he continues.

“I wish I could talk about music like you do. You just seem to really get it. The things you say in your articles, I feel them all when I’m playing. Music, it...it has this power, you know? You said something in your article about that Yann Tiersen show. I forget what it was exactly...”

He trails off to think for a moment.

“Music,” I whisper into the darkness, quoting my own article, “is the most beautiful and dangerous kind of seduction.”

Our breathing fills the silence.

“Yeah,” he whispers back, “that was it.”