by Elle Bennett
Andrew stopped in the middle of the parking lot, dropped my hand, and furrowed his eyebrows.
“What?” I asked.
He took a cigarette out and lit it.
“Nothing,” he said. He walked towards the car with his guitar in one hand, cigarette in the other.
“It’s obviously not nothing,” I said. “Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry if I ruined the song, Andrew, but you can’t say I didn’t warn you.”
He shook his head and dropped the cigarette on the ground after one single drag, crushing it with the heel of his foot. He took my hand again.
“No, no, no. You were amazing. You are amazing. What we just did in there was incredible. Best performance I’ve ever had at Cranberry. You were strong and talented, and I don’t want you doubting that. It’s just… That Calvin guy.”
He said his name like it was a dirty word.
“What about Calvin? I worked with him for a year there. He’s a friend.”
“He obviously wants to fuck you.”
I burst into laughter.
“Oh, honey. Are you jealous? That’s so cute.”
“It’s not funny. That guy wants you, and you’re sitting in there, with me right next to you, flirting away…”
I scoffed.
“That was not flirting. That was conversation. I was actually all over you, in case you didn’t notice. And trust me, if I wanted in Calvin’s pants and vice versa, that would have happened a long time ago. You have nothing to worry about, you silly, jealous boy.”
Andrew walked the few feet remaining to the car an opened up the back door to put his guitar away. Then he opened the passenger door for me. We both got into the car, and he crossed his arms in frustration.
“He was definitely flirting with you, even if you didn’t flirt back. What was that about, saying he always thought you had a lovely singing voice? Who the fuck says ‘lovely’ anyway?”
“I’m taken, you know,” I pointed out. “By a gorgeous, talented, adorably jealous guy.”
He let out a sigh and leaned over the middle console to kiss me. I took in a sharp breath as his lips touched mine. My lips opened up to his mouth. He softly nipped at my bottom lip. He rested his forehead on mine, his breath heavy.
“Move in with me?” he asked.
I kissed him again before I realized what he said. Then I leaned back in surprise.
“Wait, what?”
“Will you move in with me?” he asked.
“Did you really just go from bitching about me having a sort-of-friend who happens to be a guy to asking me to move in with you?” I asked.
He nodded.
“I just… I love you. And I want to have you around all the time. Plus, we could live closer downtown, and it would be less of a commute than you take now to get to band practices. Not to mention, we would have a place to ourselves. No parents to worry about. We wouldn’t have to be silent when we fuck.”
“Have you ever lived with a girlfriend before? It’s way harder than you’d think,” I said.
“I would get to wake up next to you every day. We can argue over whose turn it is to do dishes and shit,” he said with a hopeful smile. “I’ve thought about it a lot lately, and I think it’d be a good idea. You and me, together, under the same roof. I like the thought of it. I like it a lot.”
“I’ve lived with a boyfriend before. It was a pain in the ass. And really awkward when we broke up,” I said.
“So we won’t break up,” he said.
“Yeah, that’s definitely how it works.”
“Stop being sarcastic. I’m serious.”
I rolled my eyes at him and said, “Seriously, Andrew, living together is going to be hard. You’ll have to put up with everything I do on a daily basis. All my quirks. What if I snore? Never put away any of my CDs?”
“I’m sure about this,” he said.
“It’s a commitment. A big step. Basically a step below getting married, and I’m not sure if I’ll ever want that.”
“I’m in love with you, April O’Connell. I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.” He leaned in and kissed me once more. With his breath on my lips, he whispered, “Move in with me?”
“Okay,” I said.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
You are every kiss
I ever wanted
You make me regret every fuck
I ever wasted
“Spackling,” Peristerophobia
My motivation to get out of my dad’s house multiplied tenfold when Andrew asked me to move in with him. I spent every waking hour searching for something to help me get out from under my dad’s roof and under Andrew instead.
I ended up walking around downtown to see if I could spot any “help wanted” signs. I considered putting in an application at Strung Out, but I knew they always had a stack of applicants and no positions to give them, so that seemed pointless.
As I passed by The Walnut Tree, I stopped. It was a dingy, small venue. I’d been there many times, but that was the first time I’d ever seen a sign that said they were hiring. I walked in and looked around. The door was open, so I assumed it was okay to walk in. No one was around, though. It seemed deserted. I’d never seen it so empty before. Or bright. The sun was shining through overhead windows that I’d never noticed were there before.
A woman walked up to me and asked if I needed something.
“A job, actually,” I replied. “I saw the help wanted sign, and I love this place, so... What’s the job? It’s not behind the bar, is it? I can’t do that for another year, but I’m up for anything else.”
“No, it’s just a general help thing. Mostly you’d be checking tickets at the door, stamping people’s hands as they come in, checking IDs, selling tickets during the day. Answer phones sometimes.”
“Oh, I can definitely handle that. I’m a big concert goer, so I’m pretty familiar with how it works around here.”
“Cool, you’ve come here a lot?”
“At least ten times for Peristerophobia alone,” I said.
“I love those guys. Great music, and they always bring a good crowd.”
“I actually went on tour with them this summer.”
“Damn, how did you manage that?” she asked.
“Um. Well.” My face was red. I was kicking myself for even bringing it up. I didn’t want her to think I was bragging or anything. “I’m dating Andrew Washington, the lead singer? I loved the band before we started dating. But I wasn’t like, a groupie. Things just happened. And. Yeah.”
She shook her head, like her entire opinion on me had changed in an instant.
“Well, that’s cool. Let them know they’re welcome back here anytime. I’m Teresa, by the way.”
“April,” I said.
I followed her to a back room and she had me fill out an application. She read over it, shook my hand, and welcomed me to the Walnut Tree staff.
The moment I left the venue, I rushed over to Andrew’s place to tell him about my new job. I was too excited to keep it to myself for longer than a brief moment.
I walked through the door without knocking, since his family had told me weeks ago to stop knocking, since it wasn’t like I wasn’t there all the time, and found Andrew’s parents and Joan sitting on the couch, watching a movie with some actor who apparently never wore a shirt.
“Hey, Andrew’s in his cave,” Joan said, her eyes not leaving the screen.
“Thanks. Hey, I got a job!” I said. She tore her eyes away from the shirtless guy. “At The Walnut Tree.”
“Oh my god, that’s awesome! Congratulations!” She jumped up from her spot on the couch and tackled me with a hug. I hugged her back and let out a little laugh.
“Thanks! I’m pretty stoked.”
“What’s the job?”
“Basically, a ticket ripper.”
“I’m jealous, that sounds great. Now, go tell my brother and make out with him in front of his friends and make them all uncomfortable.”
I gave her a smile and gave his parents a nod hello before I headed down to the basement. Joan turned back to the TV and I heard her let out a noise of disappointment when she saw that the actor had a shirt on again.
“You’re addicting, never heartbreak, beautiful in the way you smile - I don’t know, I feel like it’s too cheesy,” Andrew said as I walked into the room. He shut up and put down the notebook he was looking at, walked over to me, and gave me a kiss hello.
“Hey, sorry,” I said. I pulled away from him. “I didn’t meant to interrupt practice.”
“You’re not interrupting. You do nothing but enhance every room you walk into,” he said. “Besides I need a break from these lyrics Ken wrote. Seriously, dude. Do we have to have a talk about how we’re a regular rock band, not a boy band?”
“Says the guy who’s written like, a hundred love songs in his life,” Ken replied. He crossed his arms and glared at Andrew. “What was that line in the song you wrote for April? Something about love and flowers in bloom?”
“Fuck you,” Andrew shot back.
“Hey. I have news,” I said. Andrew snapped out of it. Ken let out a groan.
“Ugh, she’s knocked up, isn’t she? Fuck. I knew this would happen.”
I stared at Ken for a moment.
“No, I know how to practice safe sex, thanks,” I said. “The news is awesome, not horrifying. Guess who got a new job?”
“No!” Andrew said with raised eyebrows. He hugged me, lifted me in the air, and squeezed tight. I let out a grunt as my breath was knocked out of me in the best way. He put me back down.
“It’s at The Walnut Tree. I get to listen to live music almost every night, except for the nights that they use it as more of a club and a bar, but whatever. Mostly, free music. It’s part time, but it’s better than nothing!”
“Does this mean we get to go looking for a place soon?” Andrew asked.
“We should probably wait at least a month, make sure my job is solid, see what my money situation is like. Plus that way I can save a little bit more before we try to move in somewhere.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Doug cut in. “A place? Like, for you two? Together? What the fuck, Andrew? Who are you and what did you do with my friend who fucked someone new every time he needed inspiration for a song?”
Andrew rolled his eyes.
“I never did that. At least, I didn’t do it all the time. And people change. They grow up. You know how awesome April is. Why wouldn’t I want to live with her?”
“Plus, he’s super clingy with her. She’s the only girl he ever got us to allow on tour,” Ken pointed out. “It does make sense, even though it’s weird.”
“Hey, do you want to practice ‘Spackling’ with us while you’re here?” Andrew asked.
Considering the concert wasn’t too far away, and I didn’t want to talk to the guys any more about our moving in together, I nodded. I did need to get some practice in. So I warmed up my fingers and voice while the guys took a short break.
The Noir concert approached rapidly. I was proud of Peristerophobia for snagging a gig at a bigger venue than they usually played, that so many people wanted to see them. But I was still terrified.
“You seem nervous,” Andrew said as we stood backstage.
I sat on top of one of the cases that carried Doug’s drum set and jiggled my foot in the air. Of course I was nervous. I had to go out in front of a crowd and sing. I had to play the piano in front of them. Despite the massive amount of times I’d practiced the song with the band, I still didn’t feel ready.
I wasn’t sure if I ever would.
I closed my eyes and listened to the noise coming from the opening band. The music drowned out the noise of the crowd from where we were backstage.
With a quick glance down at my clothes, I started to worry about whether or not I’d dressed properly for the concert. I’d worn a pair of jeans and a tank top with a pair of Converse. I looked so fucking basic. I should have worn an old band shirt or something, like the one from when I saw The Wonder Years a few years ago.
I wasn’t even sure what I was thinking anymore. My brain was turning into mush as I kept thinking and thinking, my thoughts turning into a never ending spinning wheel. I normally wasn’t one to get very anxious about things, but performing was my exception. Honestly, I began to understand why Chad was always wasted. I wondered if he’d be willing to share something from his bag of goodies.
I was going to go out there and sing to a crowd that could definitely boo me if they didn’t like me. I had no power to stop them. The venue had no power to stop them. Not even Andrew could stop them. This wasn’t open mike night at Cranberry. It was real fucking life.
I tugged hard on my necklace, gripping it until I had the imprint of a flower between my fingers. Andrew noticed me holding onto it for dear life and placed his hands on my cheeks, lifted my face to meet his, and kissed me softly. My necklace fell back to my skin and rested gently above my chest.
“Don’t be nervous. You’re going to be great,” he said. “Everyone will love our song.”
“I can’t help but be nervous. I’ve never performed like this before. And what if people don’t like the song? What if they think it’s too repetitive, or they love you and hate me? What if I fuck up?” I asked. My voice was shaking. “What if I fuck up and everything gets ruined and everyone sees through me and they see the talentless hack I really am, and they assume right in that I only earned my spot on stage by letting you get into my pants? What if…”
I tried my hardest to stop the tears that were fighting to fall. Andrew’s face softened and he kissed me once more before whispering, “They’re going to love you, and they will see that your talent is what got you up on that stage. They’ll love everything about you, from your voice to your piano playing, to your face. They’ll see you and see the talented, beautiful woman I fell in love with. You look insanely hot today, by the way. Did I mention that yet? I’m going to need to see you in my bedroom after the show.”
My face went red and I shook my head, looking down at the bland outfit I’d picked out. I didn’t look hot. I looked average. I could be any random person on the street. Just another face in the crowd.
I was supposed to be in the crowd.
“I-” I began to say. Andrew put his finger over my mouth.
“You look amazing,” he said again. He smiled and lifted my chin up slightly with his index finger before moving closer to me, kissing me once more, this time grazing his tongue softly against mine. I sighed into his mouth. He lingered for a moment before he spoke again, his words soft against my lips. “You’ll be incredible out there. In fact, I’m a little concerned that some guy will fall in love with you while you’re on stage, because it’s hard not to fall in love with you while you perform. Wait. Calvin’s not out there, is he?”
I let out a little laugh.
“No, I don’t think he is. And no one could steal me away from you.”
“Not even a bunch of groupies?”
“Nah, I doubt I’ll have groupies. I feel like that’s something I should be worried about when it comes to you, though. You’re so fucking hot. And all those girls in that audience are very aware of it,” I said.
“I only want you. And those girls? They’re not you. You’re the one I write songs for. If I spent the rest of my career only writing songs about you… It would be worth it,” he said. I smiled and he pulled away from me. “The guys are going to need my help setting up in a little bit. Wait for your cue to join us out there when we’re performing.”
I heard them setting up, checking their instruments, tuning them. Finally, I heard Andrew call out, “How the fuck are you?” to the crowd.
The crowd cheered, and from the side of the stage, I watched a smile spread across his lips. I’d only seen that smile twice outside of his concerts. The first time was when we found each other again in Cranberry. The second was the very first time he woke up next to me.
“Wow, loud crowd! Let’s get
started!” he said.
He sang four songs before he spoke to the crowd again, announcing that the next song was unreleased and tonight would be its debut. And that there was a special guest involved.
“She’s not well-known. She’s not known at all! But she’s amazing, and I’m thrilled to have her sing with us tonight. Give it up for April O’Connell!” he said to the crowd.
I took a deep breath and walked out to the stage, wincing as the bright lights hit my eyes. My blood felt electric as it traveled through my veins. It pumped the electricity straight to my brain, causing a slight overload. I froze for a moment, then smiled, thought it felt strange and a little wrong. I walked up to Andrew, towards the piano they had set up for me.
Andrew leaned over and whispered in my ear, “No need to be nervous. Breathe. And say ‘fuck’ instead of ‘frolic.’”
He kissed me quickly on the cheek and I felt something completely different flowing through my veins. Smiling didn’t seem as foreign.
Doug and Ken looked at me expectedly as I stood at the keyboard. Chad gave me a small nod, as if to say “ready when you are.”
With another deep breath, I began the opening chords to the song. The rest of the band joined in on cue, and Andrew began to sing.
“Life without you would be nothing, I’m glad you came along,” he sang.
I tried to ignore the people in the audience as my fingers glided across the keys. I tried not to trip up and play the wrong chords. I concentrated on the black and white keys in front of me and took a slow breath. The music was all I needed to calm myself down. The melody, the sound of our voices blending, the beat of the drums. We were making music together, and it was beautiful. It wasn’t as horrifying as I assumed it would be. It was magical.
I stared down at the keyboard, trying to block out the voices in my head telling me that I was a natural born fuck up, that I wasn’t going to be anything more than that. I blocked out my mom’s voice telling me that my talent could only take me so far, that I would have to fuck my way to the top. I blocked out the look on her face when she told me that I was a piece of shit, that she was glad she’d left me.