I told Holden the truth. I wish I did. If this was all in my head, I’d take my pills and finish the trip and love the memory of Tyler.
Holden has created doubt.
For the first time, I’m questioning what’s real and what’s not. Because one fact remains: I love Tyler. And I want to believe he’s not suffering.
Arms wrap around me from behind, and I startle out of my morbid thoughts. “You’re here!” Melody screeches. She plunks down in the seat next to mine and sets her beer on the table. “Where’s dickhead?”
I laugh and point toward the bar area. “Getting beers. Where’s Darla?”
Melody rolls her eyes. “She’s a fucking sex kitten, that one. She’s getting it on with Derick in the bathroom.” She sips from her beer bottle. “She’ll find us when she’s sexed up enough.”
I laugh again, and I’m already feeling my mood lighten. For tonight, for now, I try to pretend that my ghost boyfriend is someplace where he’s happy. I try to envision him in heaven, with his mother, and he’s not alone. And suddenly, I wonder why I’d never thought of that before.
Holden enters my line of sight, and all thoughts vanish. My eyes take him in as he works his way through the crowd and I smile. His black T-shirt is loose, but hugs his well-defined, leanly muscled arms perfectly. His low-slung jeans fall just right on his hips, and his hair is sexy-messy.
“Uh, huh,” Melody says near my ear. “So I see you chose to let it work itself out.” She slants a smile at me and winks her heavily lined eye.
I shrug. “For now.”
“That’s my girl.” She shamelessly stares at Holden. “Holy shit. Sex on a fucking stick. I’d down a bottle of psycho pills for him.”
I elbow her side, and she giggles. The fact that Melody giggles like a total girl makes me snort a laugh.
Holden stops before the table, eyebrows raised. Looking just like yes, sex on a fucking stick.
Tyler, forgive me. But Wichita is my stop. And I’m going to try and enjoy a night without you.
The all-girl punk band is just as Melody described: hardcore and kick ass.
Once they started playing and the crowd pushed in, staying seated at the table was impossible. My height has always been an issue at concerts and shows, but Holden led us up to a split section where two stairs lead to a top level. I’m now pressed against metal bars between the two levels of the club.
Melody and Darla are to my left, bouncing, their hands formed into horns and pumping the air. And Holden is behind me. I can tell he’s trying not to press into me, but as the crowd gets rowdier, it’s pointless. Finally, he grips the bar in front of me to hold his place, both arms on either side of my waist.
I’m focused on the band, but his proximity is hard to ignore. His body heat rolls over me. His cologne invades my senses. I’m dizzy from the music, atmosphere, and him.
Melody climbs to the bottom rung of the guardrail and raises her hands. Darla gets lost in the crowd as they dance and thrash. And I just let go. Fuck it. I jump up and down, raising my arms, shouting along with everyone else.
The band really is that good. They do their own songs, but a lot of covers, too. And so far, I’ve loved everything they’ve played. I’m bumping into Holden, but I don’t care. He’ll just have to deal. Then I turn toward him. “Spot me?”
His head jerks back in confusion, but I don’t give him time to ask. I climb up beside Melody and lean my thighs against the top bar. “Yeah!” she screams, clasping my hand before she goes back to cheering.
Then I feel Holden’s hands on my thighs, supporting me, and heat that’s not from the overcrowded room washes over me. The band jams through another two fast-paced songs, tearing up the stage, and then the lead singer hushes the crowd.
“We’re slowing it down with a cover from the Misfits.” Her raspy voice booms through the speakers. “This one’s for someone I’ve loved and lost. Come back, Tony.”
My heart tightens. Holden’s hands are suddenly too hot, seeping through my jeans, scalding. A wave of embarrassment crashes over me. I know what song she’s about to sing, and I don’t feel safe standing on my own two feet anymore. My legs lock at the knees.
A quick drum solo leads into a heavy guitar riff, and I swallow down the ache in my throat. I’m suddenly fourteen. Listening to the Misfits because they’re one of Holden’s favorite bands. And then I’m in tears. Hitting repeat on the song Come Back. Unable to understand how I lost him after only just . . .
My legs buckle, and I’m falling forward. Crap. Holden’s arms reach around my waist and stop me from hitting the floor face first. My back presses against his chest as he pulls me off the guardrail. I reach behind me and wrap an arm around his neck.