***
He was hanging over the security gate in the front row, one fist in the air, sweat pouring into his eyes. He was smiling. Breathless. Wild. Roman.
I found him. After two more days of scrolling through photos on the band’s website, of searching the archives on their social media page, their fan’s pages, the label’s page, blogs and newspaper articles covering the shows, I found him. But he was still lost.
He wasn’t tagged in any of the photos and they didn’t list the venue. The crowd was tight, shadows concealing most of them. The photographer hadn’t meant to capture them anyway. He’d been aiming for the lead singer who was hunched over the microphone. But still, there Roman was. Another dark face, another opened mouth. That’s what I’d seen first. His lips, his teeth bared in a growl as he sang with the music. Just the way I’d remembered them. Four weeks. It felt longer now. It felt like forever. I had to get back and then I had to make him remember.
I ventured back downtown telling my mom I was going to look for some prom jewelry with Dani. But Dani was with Felix helping him pick out his tux and I took the bus.
I was wandering around a music store, the humid cedar smell of instruments leading me toward a wall of bass guitars. I stared up at them—glossed faces and shiny tuning pegs—trying to find the one he’d like. The one he’d pick himself. Nothing too polished. No. He’d probably go with a matte finish. No crazy colors. He’d stick with black. But something unique, vintage, romantic. My eyes settled on a bass near the top row. I squinted, reading the tag. A Schecter Nikki Sixx.
That’s it.
“Excuse me.” I found an employee at the register, pointed out the bass. “Can I see that one?”
He brought one out from the back and I pretended to fiddle around with it, running my hands over the strings, twisting the pegs. I plucked a few strings, a low thrum vibrating against my palms.
“How’s it feel?” he asked.
“Perfect. I’ll take it.”
He gave a wary smile. “Okay, I’ll ring you up.”
He relayed the total and I swallowed, reaching into my purse. I’d been saving my birthday and Christmas money since I was thirteen, first for a pony and then for Emory, but in that moment I was so tired of waiting. To get better. To go to school. To live my fucking life exactly the way I wanted to.
So I rode that city bus twenty blocks and there I was, about to fork over a significant chunk of my life’s savings and all for a boy who could end up being as temporary as everything else. But what if this would help Roman remember? What if I could find him in the real world?
The clerk eyed me and I felt the cash growing moist in my hand. But I wasn’t going to be afraid. Not anymore. So I handed it over, leading the strap of the case over my shoulder before letting the receipt flutter into the trash on my way out.
Chapter 29
Roman
The Girl In Between (The Girl In Between Series Book 1) Page 40
