My Side (8 page)

Then something
magnificent happened.

His voice was soft,
not what I expected from him. He started to move his hips, my eyes followed. It
started soft and then picked up. I came out of my Lochlan haze and noticed
Gerry hitting the drums, and the other guys playing their hearts out. It was
madness, but glorious.
The song was exactly as he’d said
,
it was indie and fun
. People were dancing and swaying
to the song with him. His eyes were closed in the chorus as he swung the guitar
onto his back and grabbed the microphone. He moved like he was against another
person, with his hands sliding up and down her body.

The crowd was going
nuts.

His eyes popped open.
He eye-fucked every person in the crowd but me. It was like he avoided me on
purpose.

I drank back my wine,
watching him swinging. His voice was beautiful, raspy, and soft but able to hit
the high notes. He was the whole package.

Tight tee shirt with
tattoos sticking out the bottoms of his sleeves. Tight jeans with black boots
and a cocky, southern swagger. He didn’t have the country sound though. He was
a mix between pop and indie. He was amazing. They all were.

My glass was taken and
another delivered. I barely registered it.

The song ended. I
swallowed. His eyes caught mine and I was frozen.

He gave me a look. The
other guys started up, sweat was cresting every brow
, the
band’s… the crowd’s…
mine. His mouth moved and I could swear every word
was for me.

It was the strangest
feeling ever.

He ran his hands
through his thick, dark hair and started to move faster in the buildup. When
the chorus broke, he came alive. My heart had never pounded so hard in my
chest. The server was back suddenly. She took my glass and passed me another.
My head spun when I saw the glass on the tray was empty.

The
next song was really upbeat
,
it
was a dance song
. His voice went high and everyone exploded on the dance
floor.

He danced like I never
would have imagined him capable of. I knew nothing. That was clear. Shit, he
was right again.

I finished my glass,
watching him use the entire stage, pointing out at the crowd, working each of
us. He was every woman’s fantasy. He had it. He had the moves, the confidence,
and the voice. The band was as devoted as he was. They pumped out the song with
him.

Everyone in the crowd
moved like a sea, rocking to the beat. He was the wind controlling the waves.

I truly felt like an
idiot.
I drank the last of my glass and knew
,
I was done
.

He had won.

The lights dimmed,
making a sickening fear in my stomach that they were done, but it was worse. A
chair was brought out under the single remaining light, center stage.

He drank from a glass
of beer and cleared his throat, as he sat on the stool with his guitar.

“Uh… I just want to
thank you all for coming out. This has been an awesome couple
weeks
for us here. I’ve been a solo act for a long time and
I just feel really welcomed into the band. So cheers to my new brothers.” The
crowd cheered as he drank a gulp and then held the glass up to the crowd,
“Cheers to y’all out there in the crowd, because Boston has made me feel
welcomed too.” The crowd went wild again as he drank again.

He held his glass out
a final time, “Cheers to my princess from North Dakota.”

The crowd erupted.
They didn’t know why they were cheering. They just ate him up.

I, however, knew.

I couldn’t breathe.

I couldn’t feel
anything but my pounding heart.

“Bastard,” I whispered
to myself.

He’d upped the ante,
hard.

The crowd died down
and he started to play.

His fingers moved so
fast my blurry vision couldn’t keep up. When his voice broke out over top of
the guitar, everyone went nuts. The crowd started singing with him. They knew
the song. I’d never heard it before. He started stomping his boot on the stage,
as he played and sang.

It was like I’d never
seen him. The song wasn’t fast, and yet, the crowd moved with him. His boot
stomp and his odd shout here and there, moved them. Arms went into the air as
they shouted the high notes with him. It sounded like a drinking song of sorts.

The band came in
behind him at the halfway point. The boot stomping got loud and the shouts took
over. Gerry played a weird-looking drum with his hands.

Each member was
covered in sweat and passion. I could taste it in the air.

I got up and left the
bar. The boot stomp and the shouts followed me the entire way from the bar and
onto the street.

My eyes blurred. I’d
drunk too much wine.
I needed home.

I picked up my pace. I
was near home when my phone rang. I pulled it out, seeing a weird number. I
answered, wondering if it was Danny.

“Hello?”

“
Where the hell
are
you
?” It was Lochlan, screaming from the bar.

I walked faster, “I
drank too much. I’m going home.”

“What the fuck, don’t
leave.” It was the second time he’s said that to me.

I laughed, “I have
to.”

“Why?”

“Oh, Lochlan, come on.
I’m out of my league.” I rounded the corner to our house. I started to laugh
harder at the thing I’d just confessed to. I was too drunk and I knew I should
hang up, but I couldn’t stop the things I wanted to say from slipping out. I
walked and shouted, “You want me to want you? Well you win. I want you. I want
you right now. Maybe you should leave that show and come home and show me what
I’m missing, by being the nice girl. I fold. I will give myself to you, freely,
and then move out. Nothing I do is ever going to top you. Nothing is ever going
to compare to you.” I stopped walking, realizing what I was saying. I ran my
hands through my hair. I was hurt and I didn’t even know why, but my words
turned to a whisper. “You’re the real thing. You let me believe you were some
backwater-hillbilly bar singer. You’re a star. You are that incredible and
amazing person you want to be. I am the normal, safe girl. You are fantastical
greatness and I am not.” I whispered, leaning against the brick building. I
caught a glimpse of a guy rounding the corner coming towards me.

He broke his awkward
silence, “Erin, you’re drunk. Jesus, no one puts me on my ass like you do. If
I’m ever going to be great at anything I wan...”

I cut him off, “I
think someone’s following me.”

“Princess, I can’t
hear you, please wait for me. Don’t leave the house. Just stay there and wait
for me.”

I ignored him and
tried to whisper louder, “I think there’s someone coming.” I realized I was
exactly like the idiots on the crime shows. I was such a stereotype it wasn’t
even funny, college girl roaming the city drunk and alone. “Shit.”

His voice got
panicked, “Erin, what’s shit? I can’t hear anything else you’re saying. What’s
going on? Why do you sound scared? I don’t care that you just said that stuff.
I just want to have this conversation with you. I want to see you, when I say
the things I wanna say.”

“Shit,” I muttered
again, hurrying to the apartment and ignoring him. I couldn’t hang up; I needed
him to be there still, so I wasn’t alone. I was about to become a skin suit and
the last thing I ever said, was a confession to a guy about being more than me,
even in my own mind.

“What’s happening?” he
asked sounding angry.

My hands shook as I
looked back. The man watched me. Was he really though, or was I just acting so
crazy that he was staring at the display. My hands shook as I opened the door.
I pulled it shut, dropping my phone.

“ERIN!”

I picked up the phone,
“Hello?”

“What are you doing?”

I swallowed, “I
thought a man was following me.”

He shouted again,
“Where the fuck are you?”

I shouted back, “I’m
home!”

“For Christ’s sake,
where’s the guy following you? Is he in the house?”

I moaned, “There is no
guy.”

I could hear him
getting frustrated but I needed water and a bed.

“Princess, I swear to
God, you’re going to be the death of me. What the hell? Is there a guy or not?”

I groaned, “There was.
I thought he was following me. He was just walking.”

“Well, I’ll be at the
house in two minutes.”

I realized suddenly,
he was out of breath and the bar noise was gone.

He was coming home…
After everything I had just said? My
drunk
mind was
whirling until a light bulb came on. It was one of those drunken evil light
bulbs, but it was better than dealing with the shit I’d said ten minutes
before.

I muttered really low
into the phone, “What? I couldn’t hear you. I’m gonna hit the hay.” I hung the
phone up and ran the rest of the stairs to the apartment, jamming the key in
the door and racing inside. I ran to my room, pulled off my shorts and shirt,
and stalked out into the kitchen. I grabbed the Gatorade, he’d just bought,
from the fridge and cracked it open.

He rushed into the
apartment. He was almost heaving and covered in sweat.

I frowned, “Hey! Don’t
you have more show to do?”

He looked homicidal as
he glanced around the house, “So… you’re… fine?” He struggled to get his
breath.

I looked around like
what he was saying was absurd, “Yeah.” I swayed a little bit, while trying to
maintain my cool.

His eyes flickered on
my push up bra and panties. I turned, bending over completely and grabbed the
freezer drawer, placing the Gatorade at the back of the drawer. I stayed there
for an extra second.

When I stood up, I
could see the look in his eyes had worsened. He took a step back, putting his
hand to his mouth, “Oh man. Are those Victoria’s Secret’s Brazilian-butt
underwear?” he moaned.

I held up the piece of
ice, I’d discreetly pulled from the drawer and ran it over my cleavage, “Yeah?
What’s up with you? You’re acting weird.”

He ran his hands
through his hair, backing up farther, “Seriously? I ran like five blocks to get
here, and this was a trap? So all that,
‘Lochlan
you’re the best, I can’t compete with you—OMG a man is following me’
was shit?” He even raised his tone to mimic my voice, but really just sounded
like a cartoon character.

I laughed, shaking my
head. I tossed the ice in the sink and walked up to his chest. I looked up into
his eyes, “How do you boys say that?” I tapped my fingernail against my cheek,
“Oh yeah, don’t hate the player, hate the game?” I blinked a few times and
walked by him to the bathroom.

“You… you cheated
hardcore. You made me think you were in trouble. How could you do that?” He was
mystified, but my lack of clothes seemed to be making him confused enough, the
dark-eyed look didn’t come back.

I looked back at him,
“You let me believe you were some crazy, southern hick who was making an
attempt at being a rock star.” My words slurred a bit, “You didn’t tell me you
were a famous star.”

He walked to me,
towering over me. The furrowed brow were
there
instantly, “Are you fucking dense?
All those people asking me
for my signature?
The fucking cop on the first day we met, asked for it.
You assumed that. What, you can’t
fucking
Google shit?
I thought it was hilarious you didn’t know who I was. In fact, I liked it. You
treated me like shit and yelled at me, like people used to do.”

I flinched and looked
at the door, “You probably should go back to the bar, before the crowd gets
mad.”

His blue/black eyes
bore down on me, “We closed after that song. We only played one set.”

I felt the sobering
feeling of the heat of him standing over my mostly-naked body. He ran a finger
down my jawline, “Princess, you scared me for real. No games when it comes to
that, okay? I can’t handle you not being safe.”

I shook my head, “I… I
didn’t mean to. I really thought he was following me.”

His gaze narrowed,
“You have to tell me what the deal is with you.
Mace,
paranoia, sketchy about leaving the apartment except in the morning, and only
for running with your mace.
What’s up?”

I stepped back, “It’s
nothing.” My back pressed against the wall by the bathroom door. He stepped
closer, putting his arms on either side of me, “It’s safe to tell me.”

I swallowed the vomit
slithering up my throat, as a shudder took control of my body.

He laughed bitterly,
“You’re hanging on by a thread, aren’t you? You’re gong to barf any second? You
drank too much didn’t you?”

I nodded.

He reached for the
bathroom door and opened it, “Go get sick. We can talk tomorrow.”