Rock Candy Kisses(4)

I spot Izzy by the bar tying back her long, dark hair. She and Holt are  newly engaged. She's the one who introduced me to Marley. Izzy and  Marley's sister Jemma, have been best friends for years. Izzy actually  used to teach my dance class when I was a kid. She always made sure that  I never missed a beat. She taught me to count my way through the  numbers and put me in the middle of the action so that no matter where I  turned I could pick up on visual cues from the other girls. I couldn't  have chosen a nicer person for my brother. He let the family know last  summer that the reason he never went to college was because he felt like  he caused my parents' divorce. It was a huge mess. Obviously my  father's infidelity with a girl who had hardly turned eighteen at the  time had more to do with it than he did. And by the time Holt realized  he wasn't the bomb that detonated over my parents' marriage bed, he had  already paid an emotional debt he never really owed. He and Izzy help  run the bars in addition to her newly acquired dance studio, Electric  Lights. Bryson is busy working on his masters and does most of the  behind the desk stuff that the business requires. Ironically, I'm sort  of a silent partner in both the business and in life.

The lights dim a bit, and a swarm of bodies move toward the stage as one  of the bartenders, Cole, introduces the lineup for the night. I've  known Cole for as long as I can remember. He and Bryson were roommates  for years. The sign above his head reads 12 Deadly Sins, and judging by  the anxious looks on the droves of girls lining the edge of the stage,  these sinners have quite the female following. I take a seat near the  wall and pull out my camera, taking pictures of the sea of platinum  curls, the short skirts that seem far too impractical for the arctic  drop in temperature we're experiencing outside. Gawking at their long,  bare legs through my lens has me feeling a bit pervish, so I sneak in a  picture of Cole heading off stage, kissing his girlfriend, Roxy. I love  Roxy. She's as straight to the chase as one can get. It's hard to get  her to smile, but she's pretty nice to me overall. She's been known to  bring cupcakes to the bar at least once a week during staff meetings,  and they're fabulous in a zillion calories sort of way. Once I gain my  freshman fifteen, I'll know who to point the finger at.                       
       
           



       

The band takes the stage, and the bodies jump up and down-boobs are  jostled right out of their safety nets as the girls in front go wild,  thrashing their fists in the air, swinging their hips to the  non-existent music. I know it hasn't started yet because at a venue like  this the vibrations tend to ride through my body. The energy in the bar  skyrockets as the girls work themselves in a head thrashing frenzy. I  take a seat up on the table to get a better look as the music gets under  way. The baritone of the bass pulsates through my chest. I lean  straight against the wall and feel the rhythm of the music jump up and  down my vertebrae like a xylophone. This is one of the things I know for  a fact I'm missing out on in life-music. I close my eyes a moment and  try to imagine what it must sound like. My parents outfitted me with  heavy duty hearing aids when I was a kid, and I still have them, but  they made the world scary like what I'd imagine demons sound like,  heavy, tired moans that I'm positive I want no part in, so I never wear  them. Instead I feel the vibration that life has to offer. And on  occasions like this, I ache to know what it must feel like to hear  something so fierce and majestic. Back at Quincy we used to turn the  speakers up as loud as possible and feel the top ten iTunes hits vibrate  through the room. I guess that was our way of experiencing what seems  to have everyone else our age so mesmerized all the time.

A light tap emits over my leg, and I open my eyes to find Laney and Baya smiling at me.

Laney waves. "Can I get you anything?" She over annunciates the words.

I shake my head and point to the stage. My eyes connect with the lead  singer, and my mouth opens as if I'm about to say something, but really  it's from sheer surprise.

It's him. It's the gorgeous boy with marbled eyes who saved me from  acting out a very real piece of performance art today-the red asphalt  rendition.

He elongates a note and smiles right at me. My stomach fills with a fire  that expands right up my chest. There it is again, that physiological  response that makes every cell in my body sit up and pay attention.

Baya and Laney don't let the moment go unnoticed.

Baya jots something down on her notepad. Cute isn't he?

I brush her off with a shy smile, but I can feel my cheeks burning right  through my denial-sirening out a, hell yes! without my approval.

"Let me get you a soda," Laney offers. "You want some food?" She looks  as if she might be mouthing the words. I can usually tell, but I never  mind.

I shake my head again, but she's saying something and nodding, and I'm  afraid she'll be back with a steak before I know it. Sometimes people go  out of their way for me, and Laney has always been like that.

Baya flashes her notepad at me again, Maybe after his set you can talk to him. She bounces on her heels at the thought.

"No way," I mouth. I type out a quick text. I've got enough on my plate  this semester. I don't need to add desperate to the equation. I went on a  few dates back at Quincy-all with boys in my class, mostly dances, but  there wasn't a real spark. Dating just seems like a waste of time unless  you feel that spark.

Baya makes a face as she glances back at the lead singer. "I don't  know … " She wrinkles her nose as she scribbles out another note.  Something tells me that boy knows how to start a lot more than a spark.  Maybe you're right, you'd better stay away. He looks capable of burning  down the whole damn building if you know what I mean. She gives a quick  wink before disappearing into the crowd.

I lean and press my back hard to the cold wall as the music, the  vibration of that beautiful man's voice, streams through my veins like a  long anticipated breeze on a sweltering midnight. The cords in his neck  distend as he belts out the lyrics, and in my heart the silence is  exchanged for a rhythmic code to the universe. He's wearing a dull green  T-shirt with a faded image of a flag on it, but it's his muscles, the  hard contours of his body, that beg my eyes to stay. He's muscular but  not overly so. He has an overt charisma and charm about him that  explains the estrogen bomb going off at his feet as the girls clamor to  touch the hem of his jeans like he's Jesus.

The night goes on with my brothers taking turns checking in on me. Laney  brings me a steady order of nachos even though I've hardly touched the  first. Cheese from a can just isn't my thing, but I don't have the heart  to tell her. Marley and a few of the girls from our dorm have migrated  over, and I've gladly shared the mother load with anyone who wants it.

"Can you believe this band!" Marley beams practically shaking me by the  shoulders before her expression drops. "Oh, I'm so sorry!"                       
       
           



       

"It's okay," I mouth. "I love them." Well, the idea of them. They gave  me good vibrations, I want to say, but I'm sure the idea sounds a bit  too esoteric at the moment-or sexual. Marley has a way of turning even  the most innocent thought into a vision of X-rated delight. Before I can  say another word, I spot Tristan making his way over. The band cuts  out, and the normal vibratory sounds emit from the speakers. I know for a  fact that Holt has music streaming from the moment this place opens  right up until the crew closes for the night.

I make a face at Marley. It's too late to text her about Tristan. We'll  have to work out a code for get me out of this predicament.

Tristan gives a quick wave, and I motion for him to introduce himself to  Marley. She nods toward him politely and smiles, but I can tell by the  look on her face she's sizing up the situation.

"Oh, you're that Tristan!" Her eyes grow wide as she realizes it's the  poor boy I expended my very first lie to. I couldn't feel like a bigger  ass if I tried.

"So is your boyfriend here?" Tristan glances around fully expecting to  see a living, breathing, male who might actually be in a commitment of  some sort with me. I eye Cole for a moment, but that would be weird, and  I'd hate to be cut off from my cupcake supplier so soon.

A gaggle of blondes head in this direction, and then I see him. It's the  boy with the eyes, the boy with the band, the boy whose mouth moves  like a poem come to life as he leans into the mike, the one whose large  and in charge of the 12 Deadly Sins. My stomach does a hard flop  reminiscent of the stomach flu. I'm pretty sure hot boys are not  supposed to remind you of a twenty-four hour puking session.