The bartender looks at me and I shout, “A glass of water, please!”
The bartender looks annoyed at my request, but he quickly fills a glass with some ice and water and slides it across to me. I take a long swig, letting the icy liquid cool the spicy food, and the secrets, burning inside me. I don’t feel well.
I turn to Adam and his nose bumps mine. I can feel the heat of his breath on my mouth and I want to kiss him—not just to make him forget about the question he just asked. I want to kiss him to burn the memory of his lips into my brain because I have a bad feeling everything is going to change after tonight.
“Can we talk about it after the show?” I ask, and my stomach clenches as I realize this is not a stall tactic. I’m ready to tell him. I will tell him everything.
He nods then plants a soft kiss on my lips. I set my glass of water down on the bar and throw my arms around his neck. I need to feel his warmth. He wraps his arms around my waist and chuckles in my ear.
The crowd behind me explodes with cheers and applause and I know what I’m going to see if I let go of Adam and turn around. I tighten my grip on his neck as my heart pounds against his.
“Claire, the show’s starting,” he says, his voice strained from how tightly I’m holding onto him.
I finally release my grip and he smiles down at me as he nods toward the stage. I close my eyes as I turn around.
You can do this. Just open your eyes and get it over with.
I slowly open my eyes and there he is.
Chapter Nineteen
Relentless Music
THE BLUE SPOTLIGHTS CAST A melancholy glow over the stage as Chris positions himself on his stool in front of the microphone. The drummer behind him is ready to go. It’s Jake. I turn to the guy holding the bass guitar on Chris’s right and I see Tristan. Jake and Tristan are Chris’s old band mates who he basically dumped to go solo last year. It seems they were able to set aside the colossal grudge they’ve been carrying to play this gig.
Chris finally looks up from his guitar and my heart flutters. He looks exactly the same as he did a year ago. The same messy brown hair; the same dark eyes that turn down slightly at the corners, giving him that lost puppy dog look; the same full lips I’ve kissed a million times. I can’t see if he still has the nose piercing, but I can see the light glinting off a new lip piercing. He’s even wearing a ratty black UNC hoodie he wore when we were together. I don’t know why I expected him to look different. I’ve been carefully avoiding his music videos and magazine articles, though I did read the Rolling Stone article only because it was in the employee restroom at the café for weeks and I was feeling a bit masochistic that day.
I glance around the room and everybody is so excited. You can feel the energy in the air shifting, as if everybody in this room is holding their breath waiting for those first few notes. The ticking sound of Jake’s drumsticks tapping the rim of the drum focus my attention back on the stage.
Finally, Chris brings his lips to the microphone and speaks in that soothing voice with just a hint of a rasp. “What’s up, Raleigh?”
The crowd cheers and some people shout back, “What’s up, Chris?”
I feel as if I’m fifteen again and watching him play on the living room floor for the first time when he played In Your Eyes by Peter Gabriel. Chris was always light-years ahead of his band mates—an old soul. He loved classic rock and blues. He made me listen to Miles Davis’ greatest hits over and over until I could name each song just from hearing the first few notes. He was obsessed with music and that obsession made his dreams a reality.
A tear slides down my cheek as my heart swells with pride. I made the right decision breaking up with Chris. If he had stayed in Raleigh, none of this would have been possible.
The first notes of the song play and it’s an up-tempo song about a girl who writes love notes. This song is not about me and, though I know it shouldn’t matter, I really don’t want to imagine it’s about a real person.
Adam slips his arms around my waist and I smile as I lean my back into his chest. He kisses the top of my head as the song changes and I hear the first few notes of “Sleepyhead.” I clench my teeth together and take a deep breath. If I can make it through this, I can make it through the rest of the night. Adam deserves it.
“You’re shaking,” Adam says in my ear, and I can barely hear him over the music.
“I’m fine!” I yell, but I don’t turn my face toward him. I’m afraid he’ll see what I’m feeling.
I do still miss Chris. This is why I never watch MTV or listen to the radio. It’s why I deleted all his songs from my music collection and stashed everything that reminds me of him in boxes that are now collecting dust in Senia’s parents’ garage. I miss him. Every day.