by Amity Cross
“We should totally form an a cappella group,” Dee said.
“Don’t they do that with just their voices?” Chris asked.
“Yeah,” I said.
“We could be a hybrid,” Frank said as drum sounds began to come out of his phone.
“I know,” Simone exclaimed. “You could totally do that with Muse’s ‘Madness.’”
“Yes,” Dee almost shouted, clapping his hands together. “Let’s give it a go. Sing it, Zo. I’ll back you up.”
I knew they weren’t going to back down, so I nodded. The idea actually sounded quite awesome.
Frank worked out his drumbeat while Chris got out a guitar app with Dee and me were on vocals. It took us a few times to start because each time Frank started on his drumbeat, we would piss ourselves laughing at the way he tapped the screen with both index fingers. He looked like my Dad when he tried to type anything out on the computer.
“Shut up!” he yelled, trying to stifle his own laughter. “This is awesome. Don’t look at me!”
The third time was a charm, and we got through the intro with straight faces, and it sounded really good once Chris got in with his guitar app. Dee and I were used to singing together, so the harmonies worked better than I thought for a song we hadn’t practiced before.
By the time we reached the second verse, we had a small group of people gathered around us, including some of the hotel staff. They were tapping their feet and getting into it, smiling and laughing along with our over-the-top actions. It was the most carefree and completely happy I’d felt since we started the band. I loved every second of it.
When the song came to an end, we got a round of applause from the randoms who had stopped. Dee curtseyed for them and gave out some flyers he had stuffed in his back pocket—ever the slick salesman.
It wasn’t until we were laughing at how clever we were that I realize we had some familiar audience members and a future virtual one. Simone had her iPhone out recording us, her face glowing. As she hit stop, she gushed, “That was gold! I’m so uploading that.”
“Gimme!” Dee exclaimed, rushing over to her.
Simone replayed it for him, and Frank ran over and tried to see between them. They were all glowing, and it made me feel warm inside. Happy. I was beginning to really like this feeling.
As I watched them with a stupid smile on my face, I felt someone stand just behind me. Turning, I glanced up into Will’s smoky gray eyes, and my expression slipped as my heart flip-flopped in my chest.
“You’re fucking beautiful,” he murmured in my ear and wandered off down the footpath, a paper bag under his arm.
I watched him as he went into the hotel, trying to figure out what just happened, dragging my teeth against my bottom lip. At the last second, he looked back and saw me staring, and his lips curved into a lopsided grin. Dammit.
This whole ‘Stay away from Will thing’ wasn’t going according to plan. Not when he kept sneaking up behind me and stealing my breath.
After dinner, the boys wanted to go out and sample some of Sydney’s alternative rock and Goth clubs. I couldn’t think of anything worse than being in a crowded room with loud music and copious amounts of drunk people without the safety of a stage, so I excused myself and went straight back to the hotel. Sleep sounded like a good idea to me, and there was the song that had been rolling around in my brain for far too long. That had to go down on paper before it rolled right out.
Before I went upstairs, I slipped into the hotel bar and ordered myself a cocktail. It had been a long time since I’d had one, and it reminded me of Ted’s Shed and their cheap sugar-laden versions back in Melbourne. I had my phone out writing down some lyrics and relishing the peace and quiet when I felt someone approaching me. I didn’t look up, hoping they were just going to order a drink. If I didn’t look, then there would be no conversation. Right now, I was content with my bright red drink and notebook app.
“Hey.”
I didn’t have to look up to know it was Will. Remembering earlier that evening, I blushed a little. I was kind of surprised to see him here. Wouldn’t he be out with everyone else chasing girls? Wasn’t that his MO?
“Why are you here on your own?” he asked, sitting down.
“I didn’t feel like going out,” I replied, glancing over at him. He was wearing a black V-neck T-shirt with a light dusting of blond hair peeking out the top, and I noticed the edge of another tattoo.
He nodded knowingly. “Seems like everyone had the same idea.”
“Why aren’t you with them?” I asked, putting my phone back in my pocket.
“Didn’t feel like it.”
We sat there awkwardly for a moment. I had to give him points for trying. He didn’t seem easily put off by all the shit I’d laid on him. I thought about what Dee had said that morning, about giving Will a chance, and I felt my willpower begin to crumble. Maybe I should, but I didn’t know what to say to him. There was more to these things than just physical attraction. I wanted more. I kinda craved it if I was entirely honest.
“What kind of music do you like?” he asked suddenly, as if he’d just blurted out the first thing that had come to mind.
“That’s a hard one,” I replied, thankful he’d said something.
“Why?”
I shrugged. “There are so many.”
“Can I look at your iPod, then?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. “You always seem to have it in your pocket.”
Surprised again, I pulled it out and handed it to him. “Go for it.”
I watched as he scrolled through it and melted a little when he smiled at some of the things he came across.
“The Clash?” he asked.
“I love their album Combat Rock.”
“‘Straight to Hell’ is my favorite song.”
“Mine, too,” I said carefully, narrowing my eyes.
He laughed. “What?”
“What a coincidence.”
He looked back at my iPod. “You have some great bands—Editors, White Lies. Love them. Friendly Fires?”
“I like their last album. Pala.” It was a light, dancey electro record, and it didn’t fit my image at all. “I’m kinda bummed that White Lies haven’t come to Australia yet. I’d really like to see them play.”
“Aren’t they like on their third or fourth album?”
“New one is coming out soon.”
He handed back my iPod, and his hand lingered against mine for a moment too long. It looked like he was struggling with something, and Will came across as the kind of guy who never struggled at all.
“I’m sorry,” he said after a minute of awkward silence.
“You’ve said.”
“I haven’t been myself lately.” He didn’t look up at me, and for a moment, I thought he might have been embarrassed. “I’ve done some stupid things, and I’ve made you uncomfortable.”
When I didn’t reply, he glanced up, and I shrugged.
“I wanna be friends with you,” he said. “Have I stuffed that up?”
When he said the word friend, I tried not to visibly cringe. That was Simone’s issue, wasn’t it? Being stuck firmly in the friend zone. She and Chris had feelings for each other but still couldn’t seem to act on them.
“I’ve got this song in my head,” I said, gathering up my phone and iPod, trying to be nice about ditching him. “I want to go write it out before I forget it.”
Before I could say ‘see you later,’ Will’s eyes lit up. “Can I help? I mean, I’d like to see you play.”
“Why?” Was he trying to torture me or something?
“Why?” he scoffed. “Because you’re brilliant.”
“You’re only saying that to be nice,” I declared, downing the remainder of my drink.
“I watch you every night,” he said carefully like he was afraid of scaring me away. “You’re brilliant.”
With a sigh, I slid off the barstool and took a few steps backward.
Give him a chance. I hoped Dee was rig
ht about him.
Will stared at me, unsure, and I rolled my eyes. “Well, are you coming or not? Hurry up before I change my mind.”
We were silent all the way upstairs until I unlocked the door to my room and flicked on the light.
“Wow,” Will said. “Who’s the messy one?”
“Dee,” I replied with a small groan.
“Thought as much.”
In the corner, Dee had a beat-up acoustic guitar that he’d left in our room. It was covered in various tattoo-art stickers and was trashed, but it had an amazing tone because of the imperfections. Flawed but beautiful. It was like some kind of metaphor.
I’d left my notebook on my bed with a pencil sticking out of its tattered pages. It was the same one Dee had given me at our first rehearsal. The very first thing I had written in it were the lyrics to ‘Walls.’ Now it was dog-eared and tired, the pages full of scribbles and marks.
“What are you working on?” Will asked, sitting on my bed cross-legged and tapping on the cover.
“It’s an acoustic song,” I replied, perching on the opposite edge. “I don’t know the words yet, but I’ve been trying to get down the chords.”
“Let’s hear it.”
I suddenly felt shy about playing in front of him, which was totally stupid. I’d played on stage a billion times by now and even on the street busking with Dee, but somehow, playing in front of Will behind closed doors was different. It wasn’t just playing. It was something else…something almost intimate. I cared about what he thought, and the realization scared the hell out of me.
I sighed, running my fingers over the strings, and thankfully, it was in tune. The way I was sitting, I could angle my face away from him, but I was still overly aware of his gaze on me. Trying to shut him out, I focused on the melody in my head and began to play it how I thought it might go. When I got to the bridge, it sounded off.
“See,” I said, my guard dropping. “I can’t get that bit.”
When I was greeted with silence, my stomach dropped, and I glanced up expecting to see anything but the look that was plastered on his face.
“That’s… Wow.”
“Shit, huh?” I grimaced.
“No,” he backpedaled. “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant it was beautiful. Soulful.”
My face reddened. I glanced down and noticed he had opened my notebook and had written the music as I’d played. I got madder than a bee in a jar when Dee wrote things in there. I had personal stuff written in those pages, stuff that I’d tried to work out into songs, but seeing the marks Will had made… He could write in it all he wanted.
“Here.” He held out his hand for the guitar. “I have an idea if that’s okay?”
With a small nod, I pulled the strap over my head, and he took it, nestling the guitar on his knees. “When you get to the bridge, it’s natural to want to go the way you did. I would’ve.” He played it again, and it sounded weird coming from his hands. He hit the offending chord, and I could see what he meant. “But,” he continued, looking up at me, “maybe you could try something like this.” He played it again, but this time, he chose a difficult chord, one I wouldn’t have even considered, and to my surprise, it worked. Better than worked. It was genius.
A smile tugged at my lips, and I glanced into his smiling face. “Write it down.”
“Have you thought about lyrics?” he asked, picking up the pencil, obviously pleased with my reaction.
“No, not yet. I have a few ideas, but I’m still thinking on them.”
We sat there talking through the song and working out another guitar part for what seemed like five minutes. I didn’t know when I’d let my guard down, but I was beginning to feel comfortable around him. Whatever anger I had toward him had just melted away into nothing. I may have started to let go a little, but I was still very aware of everything he did. The way he wrote, the way he played the guitar, and the way he sat on my bed. Every time I looked up, he was smiling at me, his stormy gray eyes sparkling, and I wondered if this was what it was like. Being happy with someone.
“Shit,” he exclaimed suddenly, looking at the alarm clock on the bedside table. “It’s two a.m.”
“What?” I sat up, rubbing my eyes. We’d been mucking around with this song for almost three hours.
“I had better go in a minute.”
“Sure.”
We fell silent for a minute as I put the guitar down on the floor. It hadn’t taken much for us to fall back into an awkward silence.
Will was the one who finally spoke. “Did you really mean what you said in the interview today?”
I eyed him, wary of his intentions. “I mean everything I say in interviews.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Good,” he said with a wink.
Dammit, he was so hot when he did that. I was suddenly very aware that we were alone and sitting on a bed together, and I tried my hardest not to look at his lips, but that’s exactly what I did. Annoyed, I glanced down at the notebook.
Will let out a low laugh and slid off the bed. “I’d better get going, anyway. It’s late.”
“Sure.” I tried not to sound disappointed as I stepped over the guitar and walked him to the door so I could lock it behind him.
Opening it, he said, “See you tomorrow.” At the last second, he turned back like he wanted to say something else but grimaced and walked out into the hall, closing the door softly behind him.
I stared after him, not sure what had just happened. Who the hell was that guy I’d just written music with? That was not the Will Strickland I had come to know. This guy was kind and genuinely interested. This guy warmed my heart and all the other places I was too embarrassed to think about. I couldn’t help but wonder which one the real Will Strickland was, and I hoped it was the latter.
Chapter 10
It took most of the next day until I could get Dee alone to talk to him. We’d rocked up to sound check early and were hanging out with the venue staff.
We’d stopped in a coastal town on our way to Canberra for a show, and the place had that small-town vibe—wide open streets and sandy beaches. The old pub had been converted into a music venue in recent years, so bands had started passing through. It was the kind of place that saw us staying upstairs, and when I said upstairs, I literally meant over the front bar that moonlighted as a motel slash backpackers. It was the lap of luxury, end sarcasm.
“I took your advice,” I said, cornering Dee in the tiny room backstage where we’d stashed our gear.
“Which bit of advice was that?” he asked, knowing full well what I meant.
“Dee.”
Leaning against the wall and crossing his arms, he regarded me for a moment before saying, “How’d it go?”
“It went,” I said slowly.
“See, I told you.”
“Yeah.” I sighed, thinking back to the compassionate side Will had shown me while we were writing that song together. “We wrote—”
“You wrote a song with him?” Dee’s eyes widened. “Holy shit.”
“It wasn’t a big deal or anything,” I argued.
“Are you into him? I mean, more than an attraction thing?”
“I don’t know,” I answered truthfully. “I don’t know which is the real one.”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s the manwhore we’ve all come to know. The arrogant a-hole. Then there’s this nice guy who is interested in what I had to say, you know?”
Dee could see how confused I was and beckoned me over. Without a second thought, I pressed into him, wrapping my arms around his waist and taking comfort in his familiar form.
“Give it some time,” he said. “The tour isn’t the be all and end all. It doesn’t have to end when we go home.”
He led me out into the pub where Simone, Frank, Louie, and Sticks were hanging out.
“I’m going to get a drink,” I said before Dee could sit me down.
Simone caught my eye and
stood. “Me too.”
“What’s up?” she asked, standing beside me. We leaned against the bar as a middle-aged man with a wild beard poured us our order. He raised an eyebrow at us but didn’t say anything. I bet he could feel the boy issues looming in the air.
“Friend zone,” I said.
“Ooooohhhh,” she exclaimed morosely. She got it.
“I’m so confused.”
“Aren’t we all?”
“Chris?”
She just shook her head.
“Don’t give up,” I said. “I want to see both of you happy.”
“And I want to see you happy.”
“Yeah, well, we all can’t get what we want.”
The bartender leaned toward us as he put our drinks down. “But you can fight bloody hard for it, love.”
Simone let out a loud laugh, her eyes crinkling in the corners. “See? At least he gets it.”
“Thanks.” I smiled at him and handed over a twenty. “Keep the change.”
“Nah,” he said, handing back some coins. “The advice is for free. Lookin’ forward to the show tonight, girls. Have a good one, eh?”
“What was that all about?” Dee asked as we sat back down.
“Secret girls business,” I shot back with a small smile at Simone.
He eyed the bartender and said, “Somehow, I don’t think bigfoot over there is a girl.”
I snorted, almost choking on my drink. “Let it go, Dee. Let it go.”
After a round of drinks, people started moving off until it was only Simone and I left at the table. We were happy sitting there in silence just enjoying a little peace and quiet when she suddenly sat up straight and hissed, “Incoming.”
By her reaction, I knew exactly who it was.
Will slid into a seat next to me and said, “Hey.” I found my mind wandering to the way he said that simple word. It sounded like ‘hey, I want to undress you.’ I shifted in my seat, and Simone caught my eye.
“Hey,” she said. “I was just gonna go check a few things with Dean. Sorry to run off.”
“S’ok,” he replied.
I watched Simone as she walked off, not believing that she had just bailed so blatantly, and when she turned back, I mouthed the word traitor. Her only response was to smile and wave.
