by Lane, Bayli
She gives me a sympathetic smile, “Sometimes what we think is right, isn’t. Believe me, I know.”
Before I can say anything back, Colton comes up and gives Clarissa a swift kiss on the cheek and then turns to me. He just looks at me for a moment, and I silently beg him to hug me like he did last night. He doesn’t.
“Hey Lilly, glad you could make it.” He looks me up and down. He tries to disguise it by looking over my shoulder pretending like he wasn’t just checking me out, but I notice everything he does. I bite my lip, tasting the sugary pink lip gloss I applied earlier, and rub my neck nervously. Clarissa walks over to the table and takes a seat. I stay standing with Colton across from me.
“So when does your band play?” I ask and shift from my right leg to my left and back to my right.
“Around 10:00. We still have about forty-five minutes.” He turns around, grabs a cup, and pours some beer into it, “Want a drink?”
I lift my hand and show him the “x” on it. He laughs, “Don’t worry about it. I’ve gotten pretty close with the bartenders here. They won’t say anything to you, and if they do just bring up my name.”
“I’m not sure I believe you,” I grin, “but yeah, I’ll take a drink.” He hands me the beer, and I take a sip.
While he pours himself a cup I allow myself to get a good look at him. He looks just as good as he did last night, maybe even better. Usually people get more attractive with the amount of alcohol you take in. However, Colton breaks that rule, too. He looks his best when my head is completely clear, and I can see him for who he really is. He is wearing a loose pair of jeans with rips in the knees and a dark blue shirt that fits tightly across his chest and down his tight stomach. I don’t think it would matter what kind of clothes he has on though. What I really love to look at are his tattoos. They are gorgeous, and I want to see if he has any anywhere else. My mind begins to wander. Do they cover his entire back and chest like they cover his arms? I think they must. I can see a bit of a tattoo peeking out on his neck from underneath his shirts collar, teasing my eyes and my desire to see more. I look at his face and fantasize some more about his lip ring. I’d really like to run my tongue along it.
He turns back around and catches me staring. Don’t let yourself get embarrassed, Lilly. I give him a wicked smile, and he chuckles.
“So I’ve been trying to get information out of Clarissa about your band, but she isn’t being very forthcoming.” I bite my thumbnail and look at him through my lashes.
His eyes get hooded, but he answers, “That’s not surprising. Clarissa likes to leave things as a surprise—even things that don’t need to be a surprise.” He smiles fondly, “What were you wondering?”
“What kind of music do you play? And why didn’t you tell me you sang?” I give him a disapproving look.
He laughs, “Maybe I decided that would have been a good surprise,” he states, and shrugs his shoulders. “We play lots of different styles of music.” He looks around the club, “Did you notice how there isn’t a certain, specific type of crowd here? Lots of people enjoy coming here, and it’s because we play so many different styles. Everyone gets something that they enjoy.”
I guess he wasn’t kidding when he says he listens to more than metal. It’s pretty cool picturing a band that can be that open, but I have a hard time imagining a band that can play multiple genres and do them well. I don’t say this to him, but part of me doubts the ability of his band. Though it shouldn’t shock me if he is wonderful at it, I remind myself. He’s too damn good looking to suck, and this place really is crowded. Maybe there is truth to his words.
“What are you thinking?” he asks and takes a gulp of his beer.
“I’m just trying to picture you guys singing something from The Beatles, and then screaming some metal for the next song.” I laugh.
He grins down at me, “It could happen, though that doesn’t flow very well from one to the other.”
“I guess I’ll just have to wait and see what you guys do, because I honestly can’t see it.” I laugh softly.
“I know. It’s a bit strange.” He looks at me, contemplating, “You should sing with us some time.”
My jaw drops and eyes widen. He starts laughing. I know I must look ridiculous. He has to be kidding. “You’re joking,” I say uncomfortably shifting from one foot to the other.
“Nope. I think it’d be fun, and I think you would do great. The crowd would love you.” He tucks his left thumb into his front pocket casually.
“Love to make fun of me is more like it.” I finish off my beer.
“You should consider it. You could come over to the house and practice with us a few times.”
“That’s not going to happen,” I say rolling my eyes.
“I can be pretty persuasive.” He steps closer and pours more beer into my cup.
I suppress the laughter that’s bubbling up my throat. He can be persuasive, but not in the way he thinks. I wouldn’t mind going to his house and spending some time with him and the band. “I see what you’re doing, Colton.” I smile sweetly, “And you’re right, you’d have to get me extremely drunk to get me up on that stage.”
This banter is easy and fun. I’m finally relaxing and feeling comfortable talking to him like I did last night. I’m still having trouble stopping myself from wondering what his touch feels like, or what his lips taste like, and if his hair is as soft as it looks. But talking to him is much easier now.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says sarcastically.
“Uh huh, sure you don’t.”
“A Deceitful Maze will be up next,” says a raspy female voice through a microphone. I look up to the stage and see a beautiful woman with dark brown hair wearing pounds of make-up but pulling it off. She walks across the stage confidently in her black leather pants and matching black vest that shows off her toned stomach. “So go grab yourselves some drinks before they get started. And can you ladies at least try to keep your damn panties on this time. I’m tired of picking them up after the show.”
The crowd laughs, including a small chuckle from Colton. I lift my eyes back to the stage and watch the brunette saunter off the stage. I wish I moved like that. I can literally see all the men follow her with their eyes. They can’t stop watching her. Not that I can blame them. I’m a girl, and I can’t stop watching her either.
“Looks like I have to go get ready,” Colton says as he takes another swig of his beer and then puts it down on the table.
My mouth slackens. The Deceitful Maze is Colton’s band? The band the crowd was just screaming for, and the band that the pretty brunette just had to ask girls to keep their panties on for? Of freakin’ course it’s their band. It really shouldn’t surprise me that girls have a problem keeping their clothes on with the guys in their band. All of them are attractive.
Colton doesn’t seem to be a bit fazed by the way people reacted to his band coming up next. In fact he seems to have brightened quite a bit. He seems happier, calm and focused, while at the same time his energy is electric. He totally eats this shit up.
“I just learned something new about you,” I whisper before I even realize the words are out of my mouth. Oh well, now you just have to go with it, Lilly.
Colton raises his eyebrows, and the grin on his face reflects mine, “Oh yeah, and what’s that?”
“You love to be the center of attention, don’t you?” I tease. I emphasize the word love with a long, drawn out ‘uhv’ sound.
He gestures to himself, “Babe, I don’t even have to try to be the center. It comes naturally.”
I know he’s teasing, but the fact that he just called me babe does not go unnoticed. I feel my eyes widen, but I look down so he doesn’t see my shocked expression.
Colton continues, “I bet you’d like being the center of attention too, Lilly.”
I shake my head ferociously, “Your plight to get me to sing will never work. In fact, I hate being the center of attention. So there’s anothe
r strike against that idea,” I rattle off the response. Maybe I’m getting a little energetic, too.
A cocky look takes over his face, and he walks over to me, standing close enough that I can feel his breath against my cheek. Holy shit. My eyes flutter, and my breathing gets ragged. One second my breath is heaving out drastically and the next I’m holding a solid gulp of air in my lungs, refusing to let it out. His nearness is not safe. The way I react to him tempts my self-control. I should take a step back. “I’ll find a way to get you up on that stage, even if I have to carry your ass up there,” he says into my ear. Then before I can get control of myself and respond, he steps away. When I next open my eyes, he is walking away towards the stage—never looking back at me. That’s it; I’m so in trouble.
Colton takes his place on stage and starts talking to the other band members, tweaking his guitar. I turn and face the table where everyone is sitting. Clarissa is looking at me strangely, but I can’t figure out why. I’m not even going to ask what that look is about. I don’t want to know. Well, okay, I kind of do. She raises an eyebrow, and one side of her lip quirks up into a half smile. Uh oh. She knows that Colton is affecting me more than I’d like to admit. I mouth “No” to her, but she just smiles more and gestures to the empty seat next to her. I look around the table hoping to find another empty seat. I’m afraid Clarissa is going to push me too far on the subject that is Colton. But all the seats are taken except the one next to her. When I look back to her she’s laughing at me. How the hell can she read me so easily? I walk over and sit in the empty seat.
“Can you hand me another beer?” I mutter before she can say anything. She takes the pitcher and pours into my cup until it’s full to the brim.
“You and Colton seem to be good friends,” she says. I recognize her tone of voice, but I refuse to acknowledge what she’s trying to say.
I throw a quick glare at her before turning towards the stage as a guitar starts playing. It’s Oliver. His hands deftly move from string to string, starting their first song. Then, Jake starts in with the base. Chris starts hitting the drums softly. The deep sounds exiting from the loud speakers cause the hairs on my arms to tingle. They are playing “Run” by Snow Patrol, another one of my favorite songs. But it’s the voice that starts humming gently into the mic that makes me freeze. My eyes dart quickly to Colton. I watch his fingers strum across his guitar, up and back down the neck of it. His arm muscles are twisting, turning, flexing. Then I watch as his eyes close and his lips part slightly for him to hum a bit louder. The drummer, Chris, starts beating on the drums faster and stronger—picking up the tempo. The guitars join in, and sounds from a full ensemble of instruments take over the entire club. And then Colton starts to sing. His voice is deep, husky, and romantic. Try as I might to look around, I can’t tear my eyes away from him. He sings and looks around the room until finally he looks over at our table. He’s trying to see us even though there’s a bright light shining in his eyes.
He squints a bit, and then finally seems to find what he’s looking for. He’s looking at me. I’m looking at him. And as much as I know I should, I still can’t turn away. I’m completely mesmerized, stuck in place. He continues to sing; his voice dipping and rising in a most beautiful, melodic pattern. The lyrics he sings fits my feelings of not wanting to look away, not wanting to say goodbye. I know my jaw is hitting the floor. I know my cheeks are tinged pink. I know I look unequivocally shocked. I can feel Clarissa’s eyes burning into the side of my face, but I can’t look at her. I can’t look away from this perfect man singing to me about never leaving my side. Finally, Colton smiles at me as he continues to sing. I swoon, and start to feel a little dizzy. The lights seem to get brighter on his face as my pupils dilate even further. His dimple caves into his cheek, and I squirm in my chair. That cocky look he from earlier resurfaces on his face and replaces the intense staring contest we were just having. I sigh with relief. It’s a shaky sound, but at least I can breathe. I smile back at him.
The song ends, and he’s forced to look away from me when Jake starts announcing the next song they will be playing. I take deep breath and turn back towards the table. Clarissa is staring at me knowingly.
“Holy shit,” she mutters.
“Yeah…” I say breathlessly. It’s all that I can say.
The Deceitful Maze plays song after song, each perfect in its own way. Colton wasn’t lying. They really do play a multitude of different styles of music. My favorite is still the first one when Colton’s eyes latched onto mine. Snow Patrol has always been a favorite band of mine. Colton singing a Snow Patrol song—even better.
Colton still looked my way throughout his performance, but he eventually got swept away by the screaming, cheering crowd. By the end of the night, I gave up on trying to locate him to tell him just how amazing I thought he was, and his band. Clarissa said that the guys would be busy and impossible to get to so we might as well leave. I wasn’t happy about leaving without saying goodbye to the band but didn’t want to push the subject.
Clarissa and I make our way out of the club. I am still slightly buzzed, but she is completely sober.
The drive home is silent until we park in front of my dorm. We both turn towards each other. I try to hold a serious look on my face but am feeling way to giddy. Clarissa covers her mouth and then we both busts into a fit of laugher.
“Lilly and Colton sexing in a club… S-E-X-I-N-G,” Clarissa sings to the tune of the childhood song.
“Sexing?” I laugh harder. “Really? You’ve lost your mind.”
Clarissa shakes her head snickering, “See ya later, girl!”
I close her car door behind me, grinning and giggling all the way to my dorm.
It’s Saturday. Yesterday I watched Colton’s band, and they were fantastic. He was right; they really don’t have a certain “style.” They played just about everything. I heard country transition into a homebrew mix of country and pop and then into rock. At some points in their performance they broke out some serious, hard-core rock. I didn’t have a favorite either; it was all spectacular. The crowd loved them, and I can’t blame them. They amazed me—Colton amazed me.
But now that I’m sitting in my dorm waiting for Sander to come over and “talk,” I realize just how stupid I was acting. I was letting myself get carried away just because an attractive guy was talking to me. Sure, he can sing. And he has that bad boy look going for him. He’s been nothing but sweet to me. He’s cocky in the best kind of way. His confidence radiates from him all the time and when he’s on stage it’s palpable. He gave me his cherry from his shake. But still, he’s just being a friend.
The fact that I was getting all “high school crush” on him is just me being dumb. I have a serious and loving boyfriend (though the loving part has been questionable recently). I don’t need to get all giddy over some guy I just met. Colton is cool. He’s fun. I enjoy hanging around him—but that’s it. I just have to get used to that connection between us. Crushes fade, but love lasts, I love Sander.
I need to focus on how to fix this mess with Sander. He’ll be here shortly, and I still don’t know what to say to him. I’m tired of being angry with him. I’m tempted to just let the entire situation go and forget any of it ever happened, because I just want us to be happy like we were before we moved to college. He’d probably be overjoyed if I would just let it go. It might be for the best.
If something happens again—I’ll make sure we talk about it. But, I doubt anything else will happen. He loves me. He knows he hurt my feelings. Now he won’t do it again.
I look around Lauren’s and my dorm room and notice how messy it’s gotten. And it’s not me making the mess. Lauren has rarely been home since Thursday, but when she is, she makes a horrid mess and doesn’t pick it up. Dirty paper plates litter the floor next to Lauren’s bed. A nauseating smell is coming from a bowl that once held cereal and milk. Used cups sit on random crevices of the room. It’s irritating, but I haven’t had a minute alone with Lauren to tal
k about the problem. I’m fed up with living in this wreck, and it’s only been a few days. I decide that instead of waiting on Lauren to pick up her stuff, I’ll have to pick it up for a couple reasons: 1. I don’t know when Lauren will be home next. 2. It’s gross in here. If I plan on surviving in this small space, I need to actually be able to breathe.
I pick up a trash bag and start shoveling her trash into it when I hear knocking on my door.
I look through the peephole before opening the door. Sander is here. I take a deep breath, remind myself that just letting all of this drama go is the best thing I can do right now, and open the door. Sander looks good—really good. He’s freshly showered so his short black hair is still damp. He smells like his soap that he always uses. It’s a comforting smell—reminding me that Sander is still my Sander.
He stands on the other side of my door, and I quietly take him in. My stomach flutters with both butterflies and nervousness to correct the bad karma in our relationship. My arms can’t stay contained by my sides because they want to wrap around him, where they belong. Before I even invite him inside, I dive into his arms. I’ve missed him so much. Arguing with him is one of the worst feelings that I have ever had. He freezes for a moment and then seems to relax underneath my arms. He wraps his arms protectively around my waist and squeezes me into him. He rubs a hand up and down my back soothingly as I choke on a sob.
“Baby girl, let’s go inside okay?” he says gently and pushes me backward into my room. I refuse to let go of him.
“I missed you,” I mumble into his shirt that is now wet from my tears.
I relinquish the death-hold I have on him. He lifts his face so he can look at me. He tucks a piece of my hair, which has fallen in my face, behind my ear. He kisses my cheek and wipes a tear from the side of my eye. “I’m so sorry about everything,” he says quietly and kisses my other cheek.