Desperate Chances
Page 30
Riley and I shared a look. What was this girl’s deal?
“Yeah, I wasn’t a big fan of their music when I first met them, but it definitely grows on you,” Riley remarked, being uncharacteristically nice.
Sophie gave her a tight smile but didn’t respond as she once again turned her attention to the stage.
We all stood there, not speaking. It became very apparent that Sophie wasn’t planning to resume conversation.
“Are you and Mitch planning to come to the club with us after the show?” Maysie asked.
Please say no, I thought.
Sophie nodded. “Mitch wants to go.”
I wanted to make a face but refrained.
“Oh, that’s great. It should be fun,” Maysie chirped, trying to be polite, which was hard when Sophie wasn’t giving her much to work with.
“She’s a real winner,” Riley muttered in my ear. I covered my mouth so that I wouldn’t laugh.
“Okay guys, let’s drop this down a notch. Let me make you feel oh so good ,” Cole purred into the microphone.
The stage lights dimmed and there were four individual spotlights, each trained on one of the guys. Jordan started slowly beating on his drums and was soon joined by Mitch strumming a low, steady rhythm on his bass.
His dark head was bent forward, hair falling in his face. My throat felt tight as I watched him play the music that I loved.
There was something dizzying about listening to Mitch Abrams play. Something intoxicating about watching his fingers glide along the strings of his well-loved instrument. The passion and joy on his face made my lady parts tremble. And I wasn’t overly prone to trembling lady parts.
But it was more than jittery genitalia that made me stare at him like a crazy stalker.
It was more than sexual attraction. It was more than the memory of amazing sex that we had shared.
It was something deeper. Something indescribable. It was the way he lost himself in his music. How he kept his eyes closed and his head lowered, as though blocking out everything and everyone around him.
Staring up at him on the stage, I felt a painful ache in the center of my chest that was impossible to ignore, no matter how much I wanted to.
It was an agonizing reminder of lost chances.
Once upon a time he would have found me in the crowd, given me his crooked smile, and we would have shared a moment of connection that was only for us. The fans didn’t matter. The crowd would have faded away and we would’ve shared in something that only ever happened when we looked at each other.
I wish I could go back in time and slap the shit out of the old me who had never seen what was right in front of her. She really was a narcissistic jackass.
But most of all I wanted him to look at me like he used to. I wanted to feel the buzz in my blood. I wanted the twist in my belly when his eyes met mine.
How had I been so blind to my feelings for so damn long? How could I think this flutter in my heart was anything but true and honest affection?
And then it happened. Just for a second. Mitch’s eyes flashed in my direction and I went completely still. I felt it all. The buzzing. The twisting. The fluttering.
I started to smile.
It was beautiful. It was amazing. It was perfect.
But then his face darkened and the buzzing died. The twisting faded. And the fluttering became a horrible sort of shattering.
Mitch looked away, finding that connection in the girl he had chosen to be with. The woman who had caught him after I threw him away.
Yuck. What a crappy feeling.
Then Cole started to sing a song that I couldn’t remember hearing before.
One that seemed all too appropriate. Did Mitch hear it too? I stared at him long and hard, willing him to look at me again, but he kept his eyes trained on the rest of the crowd.
On Sophie.
You promised me lies
I swallowed them whole
You said we had a future
It was just a tale to be told.
I gave you my heart
You threw it on the ground,
I screamed your name,
But never made a sound.
I was broken.
You were bleeding.
I was dead.
You were leaving.
You’re my nightmare come true
What can I do?
Love ruins and maims
I knew you’d never stay.
You’re my nightmare!
Who wrote this?
It sounded so angry. So bitter. It wasn’t Jordan or Garrett’s style and they were the ones who usually wrote the Rejects’ music.
Mitch closed his eyes, his mouth pinched as Cole sang the lyrics. His lips moved along with the words and I wished I could hear him sing. I had always loved his voice.
His eyes flashed open and settled on me again and this time he didn’t look away.
But I wished he would. Because the pain I saw there made me want to scream.
It was a pain that I was responsible for.
“This club is so lame!” I yelled into Riley’s ear. I stood beside her trying to dance in time to the beat. It was hard though because the music was bad. As in John Tesh on acid bad.
After the show the nine of us had loaded up the gear into the bus, most of us—minus Mitch and Sophie, who said they’d meet us there—had walked a few blocks away to a small basement club that was teeming with people. I didn’t catch the name as we had paid our cover and gone inside.
It smelled like body odor and weed. The music was of the crappy house variety. Lots of thumping bass and not much else.
People were drunkenly hooking up all around me and I had walked in on three girls going at it in the bathroom just twenty minutes ago.
“Yeah, I wasn’t a big fan of their music when I first met them, but it definitely grows on you,” Riley remarked, being uncharacteristically nice.
Sophie gave her a tight smile but didn’t respond as she once again turned her attention to the stage.
We all stood there, not speaking. It became very apparent that Sophie wasn’t planning to resume conversation.
“Are you and Mitch planning to come to the club with us after the show?” Maysie asked.
Please say no, I thought.
Sophie nodded. “Mitch wants to go.”
I wanted to make a face but refrained.
“Oh, that’s great. It should be fun,” Maysie chirped, trying to be polite, which was hard when Sophie wasn’t giving her much to work with.
“She’s a real winner,” Riley muttered in my ear. I covered my mouth so that I wouldn’t laugh.
“Okay guys, let’s drop this down a notch. Let me make you feel oh so good ,” Cole purred into the microphone.
The stage lights dimmed and there were four individual spotlights, each trained on one of the guys. Jordan started slowly beating on his drums and was soon joined by Mitch strumming a low, steady rhythm on his bass.
His dark head was bent forward, hair falling in his face. My throat felt tight as I watched him play the music that I loved.
There was something dizzying about listening to Mitch Abrams play. Something intoxicating about watching his fingers glide along the strings of his well-loved instrument. The passion and joy on his face made my lady parts tremble. And I wasn’t overly prone to trembling lady parts.
But it was more than jittery genitalia that made me stare at him like a crazy stalker.
It was more than sexual attraction. It was more than the memory of amazing sex that we had shared.
It was something deeper. Something indescribable. It was the way he lost himself in his music. How he kept his eyes closed and his head lowered, as though blocking out everything and everyone around him.
Staring up at him on the stage, I felt a painful ache in the center of my chest that was impossible to ignore, no matter how much I wanted to.
It was an agonizing reminder of lost chances.
Once upon a time he would have found me in the crowd, given me his crooked smile, and we would have shared a moment of connection that was only for us. The fans didn’t matter. The crowd would have faded away and we would’ve shared in something that only ever happened when we looked at each other.
I wish I could go back in time and slap the shit out of the old me who had never seen what was right in front of her. She really was a narcissistic jackass.
But most of all I wanted him to look at me like he used to. I wanted to feel the buzz in my blood. I wanted the twist in my belly when his eyes met mine.
How had I been so blind to my feelings for so damn long? How could I think this flutter in my heart was anything but true and honest affection?
And then it happened. Just for a second. Mitch’s eyes flashed in my direction and I went completely still. I felt it all. The buzzing. The twisting. The fluttering.
I started to smile.
It was beautiful. It was amazing. It was perfect.
But then his face darkened and the buzzing died. The twisting faded. And the fluttering became a horrible sort of shattering.
Mitch looked away, finding that connection in the girl he had chosen to be with. The woman who had caught him after I threw him away.
Yuck. What a crappy feeling.
Then Cole started to sing a song that I couldn’t remember hearing before.
One that seemed all too appropriate. Did Mitch hear it too? I stared at him long and hard, willing him to look at me again, but he kept his eyes trained on the rest of the crowd.
On Sophie.
You promised me lies
I swallowed them whole
You said we had a future
It was just a tale to be told.
I gave you my heart
You threw it on the ground,
I screamed your name,
But never made a sound.
I was broken.
You were bleeding.
I was dead.
You were leaving.
You’re my nightmare come true
What can I do?
Love ruins and maims
I knew you’d never stay.
You’re my nightmare!
Who wrote this?
It sounded so angry. So bitter. It wasn’t Jordan or Garrett’s style and they were the ones who usually wrote the Rejects’ music.
Mitch closed his eyes, his mouth pinched as Cole sang the lyrics. His lips moved along with the words and I wished I could hear him sing. I had always loved his voice.
His eyes flashed open and settled on me again and this time he didn’t look away.
But I wished he would. Because the pain I saw there made me want to scream.
It was a pain that I was responsible for.
“This club is so lame!” I yelled into Riley’s ear. I stood beside her trying to dance in time to the beat. It was hard though because the music was bad. As in John Tesh on acid bad.
After the show the nine of us had loaded up the gear into the bus, most of us—minus Mitch and Sophie, who said they’d meet us there—had walked a few blocks away to a small basement club that was teeming with people. I didn’t catch the name as we had paid our cover and gone inside.
It smelled like body odor and weed. The music was of the crappy house variety. Lots of thumping bass and not much else.
People were drunkenly hooking up all around me and I had walked in on three girls going at it in the bathroom just twenty minutes ago.
