Choose Me

by Valentina F.

  Leave her be. Don't pressure her. Be patient.

  Sure, but patience never was one of my virtues.

  "You sad?" I sit down next to her, whispering softly in her ear.

  She shakes her head firmly, but she still can't look me in the eye, which prevents me from losing myself in hers, those yellow, cat-like eyes that send me spinning out of control.

  "Then what's wrong? Are you worried?"

  Leave her alone.

  I keep repeating it in my head, but it's not working. Why won't she tell me what's on her mind? Why do people have to complicate things? If you ask me, it's so much easier to open your mouth and speak, rather than keep it all inside. I'd almost prefer a "Look, I have a boyfriend, leave me the fuck alone", to this oppressive silence.

  There are a million questions in my head that quite honestly, I don't want to ask. I have the most important concert of my life tonight and I need to focus my energies on that, I can't hang around here trying to interpret Cat's looks and silences.

  "Now’s not the right moment..." She glances over at our friends and I feel even sadder. My instinct tells me to take her by the hand, pull her away from everyone else, and make her speak. She can't speak in front of them? Fair enough, problem solved.

  But I don't. Mark's right. Not everyone is like me. In fact, as people like to point out a little too often, no one is like me.

  I grab my burger from the tray and unwrap it, my hands shaking nervously. I need to calm down. She doesn't want to talk? Message received, loud and clear. I pull my phone and earbuds from my pocket, lie down on the bench and press play. Right now, going over tonight's songs is more important. Making Caterina talk has to take a back seat.

  20

  The phone call to my dad lasted forty minutes, divided into five minutes of embarrassing silence, fifteen minutes of panic, ten minutes of screaming and shouting, and another ten minutes of advice and reassurances. It went better than I thought, anyway.

  I didn't tell him about how the guy hit me or pulled my shorts down, forcing himself onto me. I also didn't tell him about Ben beating him up, I just told him he slapped him around a couple of times. Basically, I told him a different story.

  I pull on the only pair of jeans I brought with me and tuck in a white tank top, pulling my black belt tight, then slip a black shirt over it. It’s baggy and not very sexy. Shit, the next person who wants to touch me will have to pass over my dead body.

  Ben left soon after lunch and I haven't seen him since. Mark's nervous and Jessica looks so sad it makes me feel even more depressed. Not that I've done much to lighten the mood, but it's the concert this evening and I don't like the idea of them being so down because of me.

  I walk out of the bathroom with a huge grin on my face. My makeup camouflages most of the bruise and I've exaggerated with the eyeliner, hoping it will divert the attention from my cheek. "Ready?" I smile blissfully at Erika.

  She's the only one who wants to relax, but she doesn't have the courage. Her roommate was attacked, which brought back memories of her other roommate’s own attack, Ben's disappeared, Mark's strung as tight as one of his own guitars, Abby and Kris have been locked in their room for hours and Ryan...well, Ryan never speaks anyway, he lives in his own little world, so he doesn't count. "Yup. Are you sure you want to go out?"

  "You bet. We've been like this for too long now, tonight we're going to have fun and I promise I'll only go to the bathroom if someone comes with me." I lean in and hug her. "Will you help me cheer up the others?" I take her by the hand and lead her over to Mark and Ben's room.

  I know Ben's not there, I've been listening out for him all afternoon. I don't like this anxiety between us, I need to explain things, especially after the way I've been behaving since we left the police station, refusing to even make eye contact.

  He was worried about me and I shut him out because I had Mark's words still ringing in my ears.

  I know I'll be leaving soon but, shit, I'll think about that when it happens. I can't deny the way my heart races in my chest when we’re in the same room any longer. If Ben makes me choose, then I'll choose what I feel is right for me.

  I knock loudly on their door. "Oh, Markie!" sounding like a TV ad. Erika giggles.

  He opens the door in his underwear, obviously. "I'm trying to take a nap!"

  I laugh at his sharp tone and push past him into the room. "Yeah, yeah, yeah!" I look around, hoping to see Ben, though I know that's impossible. "Enough with the long faces, we have to get ready for tonight. Why are you half-naked?"

  Mark rolls his eyes. "Yeah, sure. If I tell everyone to cheer up, I'm an insensitive asshole, you do it and everyone bursts into song. You want me to get my red nose from my bag?" He looks offended and I laugh even more.

  I rush over and hug him hard. "I love you," I whisper, so no one else can hear.

  "Yeah, well..." He's still pissed but hugs me back.

  "The concert tonight is too important so we're going to shake off this depression and have a good time. How can I help you relax, sir?" I bow reverentially and see a glimmer of excitement in his eyes. "Within reason, obviously..." Erika and I exchange a look of disgust.

  "I just took a shower and need to relax and you girls did offer..."

  Erika laughs and motions for him to lie down on the bed. Then she kneels down at the end of the bed and takes one of his feet in her hands. "Mark, if your feet aren't clean, I swear I'll kick your ass."

  He sniggers and puts his arms behind his head, so he has a better view. "Cat, come on, you, too." He teases with a cheeky wink.

  I go straight to the bathroom and come out with a tube of cheap cream kindly offered by the motel. I squeeze a little onto my palm then rub my hands together, before offering some to Erika, who holds her hand out.

  "Lord Mark..." I say sensually.

  "It's King Mark, if you don't mind…" he interrupts. "From now on, it’s Your Majesty."

  "More like court jester." Erika giggles.

  "Your Majesty, my colleague and I will now give you a four-handed massage. Just relax and free your mind." My hotline operator, sex-kitten voice makes us both laugh. Erika and I grab Mark's warm feet simultaneously and the cold lotion makes him jump.

  "I don't know if that's a good idea…" He lets out a deep groan as Erika and I move our hands delicately over his feet. He throws his head back and closes his eyes and Erika and I look at each other, trying not to laugh. She mouths at me to stroke his foot softly from top to bottom and my shoulders shake with suppressed giggles.

  Our hand movements grow faster and more intense and Mark begins to get excited. We're practically masturbating his feet and it's hilarious...for us, anyway.

  He lasts a minute, probably less. "That’s enough! Stop!" His eyes fly open and he sits up, shoving our hands away.

  "Something wrong, Your Majesty?" Erika crawls toward him and I do the same. "Don't you like it?" She bites her bottom lip provocatively and I have to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. Mark's hair is mussed and his eyes are bloodshot.

  "Erika, don't be an ass! You know what you were doing!" He glares at us and I can't control myself any longer and let out a howl of laughter as we launch ourselves at him.

  "But, Mark, it was such fun!" Erika squeals before I can say anything.

  "You're both assholes! Perverts! You were fucking my feet!"

  We laugh even louder and I have tears in my eyes. Mark grabs us by our waists until we're all tangled up together while he tickles us both. I never realized just how strong he is.

  Obviously, in the least opportune moment, the door opens wide. I don't need to turn around to see who it is, I feel his fiery eyes pierce my back.

  "Shit," I whisper softly and Mark lets go of my arm.

  "Am I disturbing anything?" Ben's icy tone makes us all stop laughing. Why so serious all the time?

  "Depends, are you joining us over here?" Mark teases and I nudge him as I hold back my laughter, turning my head to the wall so Ben can't see my face.


  "Nope, I need a shower." Ben-speak for ‘get the fuck out!’.

  "Let's finish this next door..." Mark gets out of bed, dragging Erika behind him, leaving me on the bed. He winks at me and points his finger, telling me to stay right where I am.

  As soon as Mark and Erika close the door behind them, Ben pulls his shirt off and slips out of his shoes. "I'm about to get undressed, so..." He breaks off and empties the pockets of his jeans. He doesn't look at me but it doesn't take a genius to work out that he's furious with me.

  "I was waiting for you," I say softly, embarrassed all of a sudden.

  "I was with Casey." There isn't a trace of emotion in his voice. He's ice personified.

  "Ah..." My throat is dry as I hurry to get off the bed, but my legs are so wobbly they won't hold me up. He's caught me completely off guard and I can't think of a suitable answer, my mind is a blank. What a total asshole. Is this what I'd be letting myself in for? Each time we have a fight, he runs off to another girl's bed?

  I’m at the door but he reaches out and wraps a hand around my wrist, blocking me. "I wasn't with Casey." He lets out a long breath and turns me around to face him. "I was at the beach. I said that to make you angry."

  "Why?" I gasp. Why say something like that if it's not true?

  "Because I'm an asshole with a filthy temper, that's why. I'm sorry."

  I stand here, staring at him. His rapid breathing betrays all his frustration and I can't stand it any longer. I leap on him, kissing him so hard he staggers back a little. He picks me up and turns me around and puts me on a small desk in the corner of the room. I didn't have this in mind when, an hour ago, I decided we had to do something to make ourselves feel better. Who cares? It's the end results that count, right?

  He grabs the back of my neck and devours my lips, taking my breath away, then runs a hand down my back as far as my bottom, pushing his hips against mine. He's so excited I can't resist the urge to touch him. I slide my hand down his back, stroking him vigorously, while, with my other hand entwined in his hair, I push my mouth against his, until we're practically breathing through each other's mouth and it feels wonderful.

  Breathlessly, he pulls away from my mouth and leans his forehead close to mine. "Blondie, I don't understand anything anymore,” he breathes slowly.

  His voice is sheer torture and makes my head spin. He brushes his lips against mine again and I nip his bottom lip with my teeth.

  No talking, I want to shout, just kissing.

  "I know, I'm sorry." I take a long pause before kissing him again, but I can tell his heart's not in it. He's waiting for an answer I can't give. "Just give me a little time, please..." I rub my cheek against his and softly stroke his toned, muscular back. "Just a little..."

  He takes my face in his hands and tilts my head back so our eyes meet. "You'll choose me in the end, anyway." He smiles confidently and I roll my eyes.

  "Oh, yes? You're sure of that?" I run my index finger over his moist lips and he nibbles them softly.

  He leans forward, making sure I feel just how excited he is, and whispers softly in my ear. "Yes, because I'll turn your life upside down so much you won’t know what’s happening. I'll wipe that snobbish look off your face and make you lose your head. I'll fuck you so hard you won’t be able to live without me."

  It sounds more like a threat than the simple truth and I know he'll do anything to prove it.

  My breath catches in my throat and I need his lips to breathe again. I cling to him and kiss him again, all too aware that I'm crossing the line.

  His hand slides down to the waistband of my jeans and his fingers try to work their way under my shirt. He smiles and rubs his nose against my cheeks. "Rape-proof. At least you're listening to me now."

  21

  I wrap a hand around her waist and pull her against my chest. She made herself very clear: she needs more time and doesn't want the others to see us being intimate. She has a boyfriend who, apparently, doesn't deserve to be treated like an idiot.

  I could have given her more time, but instead I gave her till Christmas, when she's going to have to go back to Italy and end it with him. I don't care that he's decent, nice and oh, so freakin’ sweet. She's mine and I refuse to share her with anyone else.

  Taking advantage of the fact that the guys are all several yards ahead of us, making for the area behind the stage, I hold her tight, sinking my face into her hair. She always smells so good. She's perfect.

  She giggles and pushes me away but I manage to give her a sneaky kiss on the head anyway. When I hold her in my arms she's so small I could hold her there forever and never let go.

  "Are you nervous?" she asks, adjusting her shirt and walking beside me at a safe distance.

  I'm not only nervous, I'm fucking terrified. If we make it to the top five tonight I’m happy. "A little." I smile. It's so easy talking with her. "When we're done I'd like to take you some place, is that okay?"

  She nods, her eyes fixed straight ahead. I feel her stiffen as we get closer to the stage and the crowd below it. Her eyes flit continuously from one side to the other. She's toughing it out but I know what happened last night upset her more than she's letting on. But I can't think about that or I'll lose control again.

  I lean in close and whisper, "Nothing's going to happen to you, I promise." If I'm sure of one thing, it's that I'm never going to take my eyes off her. No one's going to lay a finger on her again.

  "I can't breathe." She wipes a hand over her forehead as she pants for breath.

  I stand in front of her and block her shoulders with my hands. "Look at me. Breathe slowly."

  Her eyes fill with tears and her face is a mask of pure terror. "There are too many people, I can't breathe."

  I gently brush my lips against hers. Not even an hour and I'm already breaking our deal. Cat doesn't move, she lets my lips caress hers and her breathing gradually returns to normal, as if she were sucking air from my lungs. "I'll be six feet away from you, nothing's going to happen, I swear."

  She pulls away from my face and runs a hand through her hair then tucks a wayward strand behind her ear. Her smile is uncertain but her breathing is calmer. Her eyes are yellower than usual, almost fluorescent, in stark contrast to the green flecks of her iris. She's so beautiful I'm having trouble breathing myself.

  I grab her hand and pull her along behind me, letting go of her only when we reach our friends so they don't notice.

  They're not stupid and Jessica has already given me the third degree, warning me to stay away. Thank God she likes Cat, or she'd be breathing down my neck constantly, so she just reminded me that Cat has a boyfriend and that she'll be gone in a few months.

  I wish everyone would stop telling me that. I do know, I'm not a total idiot. However, she's here now and I'll do anything I can to make her stay. I go over to one of the organizers and we start talking about the concert but my eyes are on her all the time. She's all covered up and probably dying in this heat, which makes me smile smugly. The less flesh she shows, the less likely I am to lose control.

  Jessica takes her by the arm and leads her to the stage.

  The guys gather around and we discuss tonight's songs. The rules are that we have to play the same songs as the first night. We drink our beers in silence, lost in our thoughts. I slip my headphones on and go over the lyrics. I need to block out everything that's going on around me and stop my hands from shaking. The knuckles of my right hand are sore and lying to the guys wasn't easy. I clench and unclench my fist a couple of times to loosen it up but I'm still not sure how I'm going to play.

  Mark snaps his fingers in front of me to get my attention. "We're on in five."

  As usual, a feeling of nausea shakes my stomach. When I'm about to go on stage, I'm hit by a powerful adrenaline rush and those first few minutes while I check my guitar cables are hooked up and the mic is working are the most exciting. I hold my breath for five seconds so I don't throw up, but as soon as the music starts and the crowd starts clapping
, everything disappears: it's just me, the band, and the music.

  I stand at the mic stand, my head down, adjusting its height and checking the guys are ready.

  Luckily, Mark always introduces us. I envy his swagger, he knows exactly what to say to get the crowd going, while my throat dries up at the thought. I look up, searching for Blondie in the crowd, and see her, sandwiched between Jess and Erika, smiling blissfully. Instead of giving me a buzz, it fills me with anxiety. How stupid is this? Trying to impress her with my music rather than the rest of the public. As if her opinion were more important than the public's. I wink and she gives me a tight smile, trying not to laugh. God, she's beautiful.

  I let my fingers caress the strings of my guitar, Kris starts with the drums and the sound of the sticks on the cymbals hits me straight in the throat. Here we go. Two seconds to think, then I start singing...

  Nobody on the road

  Nobody on the beach

  I feel it in the air

  The summer's out of reach…

  My eyes are glued to Cat. I focus on her, forgetting all about the pain in my hand. It's the first time I've ever seen her singing along and I wouldn't be surprised if she'd learned the words by heart.

  There’s fire in my veins. Mark comes over and we play our guitars, one in front of the other, in perfect harmony.

  All three of the guys are giving their best. Kris is playing the drums so hard, the hi-hat is almost exploding. Mark is so focused on his playing he doesn't get one step wrong and Ryan's playing the keyboards with understated class, without ever exaggerating, without missing a single note. He arranges all our songs and deserves to be part of a serious band, where he can make a career from his talent.

  I have another dream, however, and it's not to walk on the moon, like Mark always jokes, but it's certainly not being a professional singer. Like I didn't want to play the piano and go to the piano conservatory, much to my mother's disappointment. I love music, but it's always been a pleasure and I'd hate to see it become a chore.