The Sophomore

by Monica Murphy

  The lights suddenly shut off, and the teenagers start screaming. I suppose I shouldn’t think of them as teenagers like it’s a bad word, considering I’m one too, but I feel so much older than them. Graduating high school changes you. Having to work full-time the summer before you start college changes you too.

  I’m tired. And wondering if this is all my life will be for the next four years. Constant school and work? I’ll fry my brain completely by the time I graduate. If I even graduate, considering I have no idea what to do with my life after college…

  There’s movement on the stage. I can hear it. And just as quick as the lights went out, they come back on, and there’s a giant wooden throne sitting in the middle of the stage. The girls start cheering, and Caleb whoops it up as he usually does. He even gets everyone to start chanting our star’s name.

  “Jack-son! Jack-son! Jack-son!”

  Over and over and over again, we yell. Until it’s a rumble, a force growing within the room, ready to spill out everywhere. I’m caught up. We’re all caught up, until someone turns up the volume on the music being played in the background. We go quiet and I frown at Ava as I listen to the opening chords. They’re familiar. I know I’ve heard this song before.

  Jackson’s voice starts singing and I smile. So does Ava. The groupies start screaming their joy at hearing their young god’s voice and Caleb cups his hands around his mouth to shush them loudly.

  I sway to the beat, caught up in Jackson’s words as usual. There’s nowhere I’d rather be. Lost in his lyrics. He switches to the chorus, the words that always get me.

  Only for you, I’d hesitate

  Only for you, I’d stand and wait

  It’s only you that can change my mind

  And only you would leave me behind

  Yet again I wonder who he’s talking about. Me? I couldn’t be so lucky. He doesn’t wait for me. He barrels ahead with his life without regard for anyone else. It’s not that Jackson is insensitive…

  Okay, if I said that out loud to Hayden right now—who’s currently swaying her hips to Jackson’s song while Tony watches her with appreciation in his dark eyes—she’d tell me I was making excuses for him and I need to call him out for his bullshit.

  She’s right. Jackson is a bit of a selfish asshole. I have been waiting for him to see me for over two years, yet he doesn’t. I’m the friend. The original groupie. The one who gushed over his talent and hung on to his every word, glance and touch. The idiot who believed he was secretly in love with me, but didn’t know what to do with his feelings.

  Ugh. Yes. So embarrassing when I look back on it now.

  Diego and his girlfriend Jocelyn show up to join our group, and I study everyone’s faces, grateful for each one of them. Ava and Eli. Tony and Hayden. Caleb. Hayden’s best friend Gracie. I’ve grown closer to all of these people over the last year, and now we’re all going to college together.

  Well, except for Ava.

  The music stops and the lights dim once more, but don’t go completely out. It’s still dark enough that you can’t make out much, but I’m close enough to the stage to see Jackson come out. He settles onto his throne like the king he is, his acoustic guitar in his lap. There’s a full band performing behind him tonight, which is a new addition, thanks to the tour he’s been on this summer.

  A single spotlight shines upon his golden head and Jackson leans toward the lowered mic. “Good evening. My name is Jackson Rivers.”

  The crowd screams.

  “HAVE MY BABIES, JACKSON!”

  That last bit is from Caleb.

  Jackson grins and gives Caleb the finger. The crowd swivels their heads in unison, all of them glaring at Caleb, who only smiles and waves in return.

  “My friends are here tonight, so I have to make this performance extra special, don’t you think?” The crowd responds with enthusiastic cheers, my friend group especially. “Okay, let’s do it.”

  He launches into a Nirvana song. They’re his all-time favorite band, which would be incredibly cliché if it wasn’t so genuine. He loves Kurt Cobain. He loves all the grunge bands from the nineties. He wants a grunge revival, wants to bring that type of music back but with a new spin on it, and I told him he could do it. He can do anything he sets his mind to.

  I believe in him that much.

  His set goes on for ninety minutes, playing a combination of original songs along with plenty of covers, and all of those he makes his own. It’s so good. He’s so good. His smooth, sexy voice. The full band backing him only accentuates his talent and—

  I’m gushing. Even if it’s in my own head, I can tell I’m going on and on and I need to chill the hell out.

  He ends the set with the song they played over the sound system before the concert started. Only You. As he’s building up to the chorus, he sweeps his gaze over the crowd before it settles on me.

  Just me.

  His lips curve upward and he leans in closer to the mic, his lips brushing it as he sings the chorus, then launches into the second verse. His gaze never leaves mine as he croons.

  Finally got you in my bed

  Not sure why it took me so long

  Since you’ve been living in my head

  Before I started writing this song

  Everything inside of me melts, despite the fact that I know this song isn’t about me. He hasn’t got me in his bed—not even close. But the way he looks at me in this moment, as if he’s singing this song just to me, makes me wish he had.

  I glance to my left to see Ava watching me with a knowing look on her face, though I can see the concern in her eyes too. I can only smile weakly at her in return, too giddy to worry about what she thinks. I’m too busy having a total moment of realization.

  It feels like Jackson is finally seeing me. Really seeing me for the first time.

  My entire body buzzes with excitement at the thought. There’s an afterparty tonight. Eli is hosting it at their apartment. Maybe something will…happen between Jackson and me. Something real. Something magical.

  A girl can only hope.

  The song ends and Jackson grins while the crowd cheers uncontrollably. I glance around, spotting girls with tears streaming down their faces as they scream their heads off for him, and I’m blown away. He’s touched so many. I wonder if he can see it. The power he wields over people with his performance, his songs, his words, his smiles.

  Oh God, the smiles.

  “Good night,” he says into the mic, and the lights fade, shrouding him in complete darkness. The concert is over.

  The girls are still going wild.

  “Let’s go backstage and talk to him,” Eli yells at us over the screams. “He told me our names are on a list.”

  I nod eagerly, a different kind of anticipation thrumming in my veins, in my head. The excitement of finally getting to see Jackson in the flesh is making me anxious.

  Nervous.

  We make a human chain and work our way through the crowd, all of us connected by hands or hanging on to the back of someone’s shirt. We head for the backstage area, Eli and I leading the pack, until we’re stopped by a burly looking man with a menacing expression on his face.

  “We’re friends of Jackson’s,” Eli says and the guy rolls his eyes. I’m sure he’s heard that before. “No man, I’m serious. Look up our names. Eli Bennett.”

  The bodyguard grabs a clipboard that’s hanging on the wall and checks it before lifting his head. “You’re good.”

  We each give him our names and he finds every single one of us on the list. I can tell he’s surprised as he opens the chipped black painted door. “Right this way.”

  We file through the open doorway. Excitement licks at my skin. It’s been way too long since I’ve seen Jackson. I don’t care how sweaty or smelly he might be after that performance, I want to hug him.

  Truthfully? I want to rub myself all over him. Don’t know how he’d react to that, so I’m reminding myself, yet again, to calm down so I won’t act like a groupie.<
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  Within seconds of coming backstage, we find ourselves in a narrow hall with closed doors on either side.

  “The dressing rooms,” Gracie announces. She’s dated a few musicians who’ve performed at Strummers in the past, so she should know. “His name should be on the door.”

  We find his room with the small chalkboard sign hanging on the wall with his name on it. Eli knocks on the door and tests the handle to find it’s unlocked so he barges in, all of us following behind him.

  “Congrats on a fucking awesome performance tonight, bro!” Eli yells, stopping short when he sees what’s happening.

  I go still too, my mouth popping open in shock.

  Jackson is sitting in a chair in front of a mirror with a very beautiful woman on his lap. She’s clad in a crop top and tiny denim shorts, miles of bare skin on display. Her arms are wound around his neck, her hands in his hair. His arms rest casually around her bare waist, one hand grasping her butt and holding her to him.

  Their mouths were fused. He breaks the kiss when he hears us, his wide, slightly wild eyes meeting mine for the briefest moment before he tears them away.

  My heart drops. Crashes to the ground, shattering into tiny, jagged pieces.

  “Oh. Shit.” He smiles, not the least bit ashamed to be found with a woman on his lap practically humping him. She glances over her shoulder to look at us, a sultry expression on her beautiful face. “Thanks, guys. Didn’t, ah, expect you all to show up back here.”

  “What did you expect then? You did leave all of our names with the doorman,” Ava reminds him, sounding pissed.

  God, I love my best friend. I’m too shocked to say or feel anything. I’m numb.

  And stupid. So, so stupid.

  Jackson practically shoves the girl off his lap and rises to his feet, going to Eli so they can perform some complicated, ritualistic handshake they’ve perfected over time before they quickly embrace. “So glad you’re here.”

  Eli pulls away, Ava snagging his arm so she can stand directly beside him. “Who’s your friend, Rivers?”

  “Ah, this is…” He gestures toward the woman, who glares at him before telling us her name.

  “I’m Brit.” She waves. Wipes at the corners of her lipstick-smeared mouth.

  My stomach pitches and rolls, like I’m in the middle of the ocean and about to puke my guts out. I can’t stop looking at Brit, wondering what she has that I don’t. She’s tall. All legs and arms and tits and ass. I’m short. And not much in the tits or ass department, especially compared to her. Her hair is blonde, her makeup is perfect and she looks older than us. Definitely older than me, and I’m the youngest one here besides Ava. While we’re the same age, she’s still got me beat by a couple of months.

  So that’s what she’s got. Beauty and age and experience. She’s bold and not afraid to go after what she wants.

  Basically, the complete opposite of me.

  Jackson ignores Brit, which I take no satisfaction in. He’s too busy hugging everyone, and he saves me for last. As if he knows.

  Of course he knows. I’ve been the obvious, ridiculously dumb groupie girl for months. Almost two years, if we’re being super specific.

  FML times one hundred million.

  “Ellie. Baby. You’re looking good.” He wraps me up in a smothering hug that I revel in for only a second.

  Okay, fine. Maybe a couple of seconds. I can’t turn off my feelings for him that quick.

  He smells like Jackson and a hint of sweat. His body is lean and even more muscular, I swear. And when I feel his lips press against my forehead in a sweet, chaste kiss, I pull out of his arms quickly, not wanting his mouth on me after he kissed Brit—the sexier, far more experienced groupie.

  Ugh, I hate him. I’m in love with him, yet I can’t stand him right now.

  “I’m so glad you came,” he says, seemingly clueless to my distress. “Did you like the last song?”

  “Yes,” I bite out, and that’s all I can say. If I part my lips again, I might let forth a stream of curses and bitter words just for him.

  Why are men so oblivious?

  He smiles, his expression tender. Just like it always is when he deals with me. “I’m glad. You know I wrote it for—”

  “We need to get going, don’t we, Eli?” Ava asks in an extra loud voice, purposely interrupting Jackson. “We have to finish setting up for your party. You’re still coming to the party right, Jackson?”

  “Definitely. For sure.” He nods enthusiastically, ignoring her dark tone. It’s so obvious she’s disgusted with him, but he’s not acknowledging it. “Give me some time though. I need to wrap up a few things here first before I can leave.”

  His gaze slides to Brit for the briefest second and I want to die.

  I know what he’s going to wrap up. Whatever he started with Brit. I’m sure he’ll have sex with her in this skeezy dressing room that’s probably seen plenty of action in the past. At the very least, he’ll get a blowjob from her.

  God. I’m so desperate to leave, I can feel my entire body vibrating with the need to run. Just run and never look back.

  “Okay, well take your time—oof.” Eli glares at Ava, who just jabbed him with her pointy elbow. “Yeah, just get back to the apartment as soon as possible okay, bro? We can’t really party until the guest of honor is with us.”

  “Yeah. I’ll head over there in a few. Thanks again for coming tonight.” Jackson’s dark blue gaze meets mine and I stare back, letting my fury be known. But it’s as if it flies straight over his head. He doesn’t see it.

  How does he not see it?

  Oh, I know. He just doesn’t see everything else I throw his way. My undying love and devotion—he’s never noticed that. My endearing friendship? Nope, doesn’t realize that either. I’ve given him hours and hours of my time. I think about him every single day, worried, happy, curious, yearning. All of the emotions, they hit me when it comes to Jackson.

  Yet he doesn’t think about me at all. Not at all.

  Wait. I take that back. He does think about me. As his friend. As the one girl who’s always just sitting there, waiting to lap up whatever scraps he tosses my way.

  Well, I’m done. I can’t be that girl any longer.

  Jackson Rivers is dead to me.

  And I mean it this time.

  Three

  Jackson

  I fucked up.

  When do I not fuck up when it comes to Ellie? It’s almost as if I want to get caught. Maybe I do. I’m not good enough for her. I never have been. She’s just so damn sweet, always there, always willing to talk to me, give me advice, encourage me when I need it the most. And I need that support a lot.

  Deep down, I’m an insecure asshole who’s scared to take it to the next step with the pretty girl who’s been waiting in the wings for me to get off my ass and actually do something for far too long. And what happens? I start kissing some rando woman I don’t know and I get caught.

  By Ellie.

  If looks could kill, I’d be dead thanks to the glare Ava’s shooting my way as Eli grabs her arm and escorts her out of the dressing room. Always protective of her best friend. Gotta love that. Eli knows I got busted and I see the sympathy there in his eyes, though he’d never say anything in front of Ava and Ellie.

  He’s not stupid.

  All of my friends are currently looking at me as if I’ve lost my damn mind, which maybe I have. Well, with the exception of Caleb, who grins and flashes me two thumbs up as he nods in Brit’s direction before Diego shoves him.

  They offer up muffled goodbyes as they exit the tiny dressing room and the minute the door is shut and they’re all gone, I breathe a sigh of relief.

  Brit—I didn’t even realize that was her name until she introduced herself to everyone—is on me the second that they’re gone, her mouth finding mine as she grinds her tight body against me.

  “I thought they’d never leave,” she murmurs against my lips before she dives her tongue into my mouth.

&nb
sp; I kiss her for a while and then push her away, taking a couple of steps back for some much-needed space. “Don’t know if I want to do this.”

  Huh. When do I not want to do this? I’m all about the quick fuck in a dressing room, hotel room, on the tour bus. Hell, wherever I can get it. I’ve lost track of how many women I’ve been with over the summer.

  Too many to mention.

  But now I can’t get Ellie’s face out of my mind. The flash of pain in her eyes when our gazes met. Seeing me with Brit hurt her.

  I don’t know if she’ll forgive me for what she witnessed.

  “What do you mean, lover?” Brit rests her hand over my dick, giving it a squeeze. “You seem ready to go to me.”

  I remove her hand from my crotch. “Yeah. Not right now.”

  Anger lights up her eyes. They’re pale blue and a little freaky. “So when? A few minutes? You want to change? I get it. You’re all sweaty and worked up.” She rests her hands on my shoulders, letting them roam over my chest. “I can help you burn off all that energy rumbling inside of you.”

  Her words are tempting. She’s describing exactly what I’m feeling. I guess she’s done this before. How else would she get backstage when I didn’t invite her? Security must know who she is.

  A groupie. It doesn’t matter what band you’re in, she’ll do you just for the clout.

  “I don’t know…” My voice drifts.

  She drops to her knees.

  And I don’t stop her.

  I show up at my apartment an hour later, freshly showered and without a lick of Brit’s cloying perfume on me. When she was finished, we shared a bottle of Jack, though I drank most of it. Kicked her out of the dressing room when I realized she wasn’t going anywhere. Cleaned up, then got an Uber home because I didn’t drive to Strummers, knowing I would get fucked up when my performance was over.

  This is it for me this summer. My rock star moments are finished—for now. I still want to produce music. Write a few songs. Plan for a tour next summer. Maybe even put together a record—independently of course.