To Be Your Last

by Rae Kennedy

  When the guys go off for their pre-show stuff I walk down to the corner and get my feminine things. Then I go back to the bus, lie down, and text Logan that I’m not feeling well enough to go to the show.

  I curl into a ball in my bunk and nap.

  I’m woken up by the sound of heavy feet and whispers and rustling bags. When I pop my head out of the curtain, all four of them turn to look at me and ask me how I’m feeling and apologize for waking me. They have an array of snacks. Logan offers me an extra pillow and blanket. Joey even brought me hot broth from the Vietnamese restaurant across the street. It’s all so sweet.

  Then Colin hands me a little bag. “I don’t know what your favorite is, but here.” He looks at me expectantly, his hands in his pockets.

  I look in the bag and there’s a family size bag of peanut butter M&Ms and a bottle of ibuprofen. “Thank you, this is...perfect.”

  He gives me a little nod before going to sit next to Dean on the couch. At first I expect they’re going to leave to do their after party thing, but they don’t leave. They stay on the bus with me all night. I sit between Colin and Dean on the couch while Joey and Logan sit on the floor. When I sit down, Colin doesn’t move all the way over on the couch but stays close enough that his knee keeps touching my leg.

  We watch silly videos of cats and kittens and puppies. And puppies with kittens. And kittens with bunnies. Soon we’re in a spiral of cuteness so deep we don’t come out until the sun starts rising in through the windows.

  The next couple days, we drive north into Washington, and by the Tacoma show, I’m feeling much better. I sit just offstage watching their set. By now I have it memorized. I find myself singing along with some of the lyrics, wishing I was out in the audience so I could experience the full energy of the show. If I was out in the crowd, would Colin’s eyes find me, lock on mine like they did at the wedding? Would he sing the songs like they were each meant for me?

  Maybe I’d just imagined that moment at the wedding. Maybe there was no connection. He probably doesn’t even remember. Maybe he never saw me at all.

  The next day, we head to Seattle and before the show we explore downtown. We go to Pike Place Market and eat fish and chips near the water and walk to the Space Needle. The view from the top is spectacular.

  “Can we get a picture?” I ask, pulling out my phone.

  “Sure, Blondie.”

  I stand in front of the windows excitedly and the guys gather around. Colin stands next to me. “Here.” He holds his hand toward my phone.

  I give it to him and he holds the phone up with one long arm as the other one wraps lightly around my back.

  His side is pressed against me and he smells just as good as I remember from when I woke up on top of him. Logan is on my other side, and we all squeeze in as Colin takes the picture. Then he’s away from me as quickly as it began. His hands are shaky when he gives me back my phone. He stuffs them swiftly in his pockets.

  “Are you all right?” I ask.

  “Uh, yeah.” His eyes flash to the window then back to me. “We’re just... It’s really high up here.”

  Oh right. He’s afraid of heights.

  “Hey, let’s go get some food. I'm starving,” I say to the guys.

  Joey is, naturally, immediately on board, and the twins start heading to the exit yelling something about getting lobster with their butter.

  As we leave I glance to Colin and he gives me the tiniest of nods.

  Later on the bus, I look at the picture. Logan and Dean have almost the exact same smile. Joey’s eyes are half closed. Colin’s not smiling in the picture like the other guys, but I can see his tattooed fingers curling around my hip and I can’t stop staring at them.

  I send the picture to Kyla as further reassurance I am, in fact, in Seattle and alive.

  Kyla: Damn girl, you look great, like you’re glowing

  Kyla: Also the one with the tattoos, idk is that the singer??? He definitely needs to be your next conquest

  Me: Ugh, he doesn’t even like me

  Kyla: Could have fooled me, but honestly that’s even better, HATE FUCK!

  Me: OMG I’m not going to have my first time be a hate fuck

  Kyla: Ok, ask him to do you real nice the first time THEN hate fuck

  Me: No

  Kyla: Please

  * * *

  “Need help with your technique?” Logan raises his eyebrows at me.

  “Nope. I’m good.”

  He shrugs and racks the balls. “You break.”

  I place the cue ball in the center of the red felt. I have to lean over to get a good angle for the break. I’m keenly aware that Colin and Dean are sitting at a table directly behind me and I’m wearing my very short cut-off jean shorts again. I line up my shot and with a deafening bang and clapping of balls, I sink several into the pockets.

  “I’ll take solids.” I walk around the table, and I can feel Colin’s eyes on me, following my movements, lingering.

  I’m definitely, most likely, probably just imagining this.

  Logan still has four balls on the table when I bank shot the eight ball for the win. He insists on best two out of three. He has five balls left when I win the second time.

  “My turn, Blondie.” Dean saunters over, chalking up a new stick.

  At the end, we’re both going for the eight ball but I manage to get it in first.

  “Damn, girl. You’re good. I'm going to try my luck with darts.” Dean walks across the bar to where Joey, Logan, and a couple Boners are playing darts and drinking pitchers of beer.

  Colin stands from the table. He’s tall and lean, and the harsh light plays with the contours of his face. His white shirt is so threadbare that I can see the black eagle wings spread across his chest through it. He takes a step toward me and my stomach flips.

  Be cool. I give him a small smile. If he wants to play, I can beat him too.

  But then Jace and Boner One are at the table. Jace grabs a stick with a crooked grin. “I want a go with you, Gracie,” he says my name in the weird, slow way he likes to say it.

  I glance back to Colin, but he’s already walking to the back toward the restrooms.

  Hate fuck in a bar bathroom? Shut up, Gracie. That’s definitely not how I’d want my first time.

  “I’m ready for you,” Jace says.

  “I'll let you break.”

  He’s terrible at breaking.

  Jace and Boner One make ball jokes and snicker the whole time we play. I’m trying to end the game fast, but when they start making jokes about who has the bigger stick and gesturing with said sticks between their legs, I’m out.

  I look around the bar. I don’t see Colin or Dean. Joey and Logan are still playing darts but now a couple of girls have joined them. Logan is standing behind a cute girl with curly dark blonde hair. His face is at her cheek, one hand on her hip while the other one guides the dart in her hand, showing her how to throw it.

  I tell Boner One to finish the game and I walk straight out to the parking lot and onto the bus.

  * * *

  “There you are.”

  He says it like he’s been looking for me.

  I glance up from my notebook, shutting it quickly.

  The little light over the dining table where I’m sitting is on—otherwise the bus is dark and only the silvery light shining in from the moon illuminates Colin as he walks up the steps.

  “What are you writing?”

  “Oh it’s nothing, really.” I push my notebook to the side and tuck a lock of hair behind my ear.

  “Is that a diary or journal?”

  “Um, no. It’s just where I sometimes write little notes, thoughts. Poems mostly.”

  I look at him standing there, his white shirt partially tucked into his black jeans, revealing the waistband sitting low on his hips. He’s half-painted in blue shadow and shimmering moonlight, the skin of his arms highlighted as it peeks through the black ink. He’s all contrast.

  “It’s dumb, really.”
I wave it off with a small smile.

  He cocks his head. “I doubt that.” He disappears toward the back of the bus and reappears after only a moment. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he says, the look in his eyes deviant, but playful.

  “Show you my what?” I’m confused.

  He holds up a black journal. “You can read mine if I can see yours.”

  “You write poetry?”

  “I write songs, so that’s kind of the same thing, yeah?” He sits across from me and hands over his book. It’s thick and slightly bent, curling at the edges. Some pages stick out farther than others, slightly askew as they’ve gotten loose.

  The urge to take it and read through it is overwhelming. To get into Colin’s head.

  But then I’ll have to give him mine.

  He’s still holding it out to me. He glances down to my pink notebook and back to me, amusement in his eyes at my hesitation. Then it happens. He smiles at me. It’s too brief.

  “You don’t have to.”

  And suddenly, I want to.

  I’ve never shown my writing to anyone, but in this moment, on this dark, quiet bus with no one else around, I can feel the connection again. Something that tells me he’d understand.

  I silently slide my book to him and take his in my hands.

  He opens mine immediately and I watch him read. His face is downturned so I can only see his thick lashes. He stays on each page for a long time, laser-focused on my words, and it makes my chest ache. He turns each page delicately.

  I open his. It’s all in black pen. Some pages are covered in words, going in all directions, paragraphs with words and lines crossed out violently, notes vertically up the margins. Some of the writing is neat, some all caps, some so slanted and angular it’s like he was writing in a furious frenzy. Some pages just have a few lines and some are entire songs. Some pages are half-nonsensical words and random doodles. I recognize many of the lines and lyrics in the front of the notebook from their songs.

  Everyday

  I must keep it at bay

  At bay

  At bay

  At bay

  It’s made of black and smoke and nightmares

  Everything ugly, everything that scares

  He’s inside me

  Always waiting, always ready

  He wants out

  I must keep him at bay

  At bay

  At bay

  At bay

  “What’s this one about?”

  He looks over to where my fingers are splayed on the page.

  “Addiction,” he says matter-of-factly.

  “Oh.” I’m a little flustered. I didn’t realize I was asking about something so personal, private.

  He doesn’t look upset, but maybe he’s just that good at concealing his emotions. He keeps looking at me, almost as if he’s waiting for me to ask another question. I do want to ask him more. Is it about your addiction? What kind of addiction? Drugs? Alcohol? Sex? But when I don’t say anything else, he drops his focus back to my notebook.

  I do the same. I keep turning. Keep reading. I don’t know how, but I can feel the emotion in each word as if I was sitting in the room as he wrote them. Anger, heartbreak, sadness.

  As I go further into the book, I can tell the writing is newer, the ink blacker, fresher. The last page before they go blank screams frustration. Nearly every line is crossed out so many times I can’t read what’s behind them. But I make out one of them.

  I can’t have her.

  I want to ask him about that line. But I don’t. I already feel like he’s sort of letting me in, letting me catch a glimpse of his soul. I don’t want to take too much.

  “These are all amazing,” he says, closing my book.

  I look up at him. “Really?”

  “Yeah. The way you describe things in so few words but with such richness—it’s fantastic. You’re really talented.”

  “Wow, thanks.” I hand him back his journal. “I’m sure you already know how talented you are. Everything in here is really cool and authentic.”

  He runs his teeth over his lower lip as he slides my notebook back to my side of the table. “I have a new song idea I’ve been working out in my head for a little while. It’s different than our usual stuff. Maybe you could help me with it sometime?”

  “Okay.” The word just comes out. I think my brain has stopped functioning.

  * * *

  The next night, Logan invites the girl from the bar to the concert. Her name is Christine and she’s very nice. It’s totally fine and not weird that I’m sharing my special spot backstage with her to watch the show. Not weird at all.

  “Game time!” Logan yells, after the show. He’s standing in the middle of the living area on the bus, swaying as we ride to the hotel, one arm around Christine to keep his balance and a bottle of tequila in his other hand.

  “What are we playing, babe?” Christine asks in a sugary sweet voice.

  “King’s cup.”

  “What’s King’s cup?” I lean over and ask Dean.

  “Sort of a card game. Basically a way to get drunk real fast.”

  I don’t know if I feel like getting drunk tonight. It’s been a week and a half since the game of spin the bottle, and that got a little weird. I’m especially hesitant as we’re walking up to Logan’s room and the Donkey Lips guys join us, hyped up on their post-concert high, already yelling, and they have no groupies with them tonight. I repeat, only two of us have boobs and Christine’s are currently glued to Logan’s side.

  “You playing with us tonight, Wolfe?” Logan asks while trying to unlock the door to his room. It takes him three tries.

  “I’m playing if she is.” He cocks his head toward me.

  Me.

  He only wants to play if I do?

  Now everyone’s eyes are on me and I can feel heat rising to my cheeks as they all wait for my response.

  “Yeah, I’ll play.”

  I’m nervous as I sit with my beer to play. Is Colin going to start paying me attention? Is he interested in me? Maybe it was reading each other’s writing last night. Maybe he’s feeling this attraction too.

  I can’t even focus, and I don’t notice until it’s too late that Boner Two and Boner Three sit on either side of me—closer than necessary, I’ll add—and Colin might as well be across the room.

  As we play, he doesn’t talk to me or even make eye contact. The only thing he seems to take notice of is when I open my second beer.

  Then I realize it. He’s babysitting me.

  Now that Logan is preoccupied with another girl, he’s taken it upon himself to watch out for the toddler. Was that what he was doing on the bus too? Did he even care about reading my poetry? He probably thought it was silly and immature, like he still thinks of me.

  I chug my beer, just to test this theory. It definitely grabs his attention. He doesn’t say anything, but his jaw is clenched, and his eyes follow me as I reach for another one.

  On a side note—I don’t know how long it takes to acquire a taste for beer, but it hasn’t happened for me yet.

  “Let’s do some shots!” I say, fisting the cheap bottle of vodka instead.

  If he wants to be Mary-Fucking-Poppins, I’ll give him something to worry over.

  It’s probably a good thing the vodka is so shitty because in the last two hours I’ve only been able to stomach one and a half shots of it. I’m feeling a decent buzz, but I think I’d puke before I’d be able to get drunk off this stuff. Everyone—except Colin, of course—has joined in and now the bottle is officially empty.

  Colin is standing moodily against the wall while Joey and Dean play a game of quarters with Boners One and Four. Logan and Christine are connected at the mouth on the chair in the corner. I’d tell them to go get a room already, but we’re in Logan’s room so...

  Currently, Jace and Boner Two and Boner Three are arguing over top of me about some sort of video game. I’m thinking it’s probably time to call it a nig
ht and head to my room but then they’re directing their comments to me. I have no idea what they’re talking about so I just sort of nod and smile.

  Jace steps a little closer.

  I glance around him. I don’t see Colin. Did he leave?

  “Hey Gracie, you want to keep the party going back in my room?”

  A stare at him for a second, frozen in a mixture of confusion and shock. “No thanks.” I make a move to step away but all three of them are around me and they don’t move.

  “Okay,” Jace says with a shrug. But he still doesn’t move.

  I look over to Logan. He’s still making out with Christine. She’s now fully in his lap and they’re practically tearing at each other’s clothes.

  “I thought you liked to party,” one of the Boners says.

  Both Boners take a step in.

  “All partied out.” I move toward Joey and Dean, who are too focused on their game.

  “Where you going?” Jace asks.

  “I think she said she’s done talking to you.” Colin’s low voice from behind me sends a cool wave of relief through my body.

  “I didn’t hear her say that, did you?” Jace says, straightening his shoulders.

  “Take a fucking hint.”

  The Boners slink away with wary expressions, but Jace doesn’t budge.

  “I don’t see your name on her. How about you let her speak for herself?”

  I glance between the two men. Colin’s hands are fisted at his sides, his forearms flexed. I don’t need his misguided protection.

  “You know what? You’re both right.” I look at Colin. “I can speak for myself.” Then I turn to Jace. “And I am definitely done talking to you.”

  I stomp toward the door, feeling for my room key in my pocket.

  “Wait—” Colin reaches a hand out for me. “Can we talk?”

  I turn on him, my arms folded. “I don’t really want to talk to you, either.”

  He has the audacity to look taken aback, his blue eyes wide. He steps back and we stand there face-to-face for several beats.

  “Please?”

  I tighten my arms across my chest. “Fine.” I wait for him to go on, but he doesn’t.

  “In private?” He tilts his head toward the door.

  I’m not in the mood to get criticized about irresponsible choices, but I do want out of this room, so I follow Colin out and to his room down the hall.