by Alisha Watts
After he had gotten a few bottles of water and handed them out he led them over to the stage and introduced them to his bandmates. Tara immediately struck up a conversation with the drummer but Skylar stayed close to Grayson. Grayson, for his part, seemed content to ignore the crowd around them and to focus completely on introducing Skylar to his world.
Their music, when it was their turn to play, was heavier than Skylar was used to but was not unpleasant. There were hints of techno mixed in with lyrics that, to her, were soulful and strange. She couldn't quite catch all of them because of the sheer volume and level of noise pollution but her mind was already racing ahead to her potential future with this man. She'd never have to ask about his lyrics because he would write all of his songs with her, or would sing them for her before playing them for anyone else. She would tell him about how it made her feel and he would say that that was exactly what he intended, and his kisses...
She was pulled from her daydreams back to reality by the last lingering note of his song before the drummer clashed the snare abruptly and the crowd's roars of approval drowned out all else. He smiled and waved at them all but it was on her that his eyes lingered and she couldn't help but blush.
When the crowd of people wanting to talk to him converged he moved to pull Skylar up against him and held up a quieting hand. “Please, I promised this beautiful creature I would talk with her after the show. If you want autographs or CDs then visit our website and I will get to all of your requests, I promise!”
He ignored their protests to pull Skylar up with him to the upstairs patio and moved swiftly into the VIP section. A couple of burly security guards watched them go by but did not move from their post. Some of the following group complained bitterly but went back downstairs.
“That was a bit crazy, wasn't it?” Grayson asked with a grin.
“We lost Tara,” Skylar said as she pulled out her phone to text her friend and let her know where she was.
“Don't worry, I'll let them know to let her in up here if you like. Would you like some more water?”
Skylar didn't answer as she was reading Tara's text back. “She says she got a bit noised out with all of the crowd and wants to know if I'm okay with her waiting for me across the street.”
“Sounds like she's pretty protective.”
She looked up at him self-consciously and gave a nervous laugh. “Yeah, well, it's not like she has anything to worry about,” she said. She didn't want him to think that she needed a babysitter, after all.
“No, I understand. It's good to have a good friend. I'd like to get to know you a bit better, if that's all right, but I'll feel better if there's someone waiting for you to take you home if it starts getting late.” He flashed another smile. “Besides, it keeps me honest. I could talk with new people all night if left to my own devices, but if I know you have someone waiting on you I'm more apt to think about how late it's getting.” His smile turned shy. “It just seems like you're the kind of person I could forget the time with.”
Skylar's blush deepened. “I'll let her know.”
~~~
Chris stretched and groaned as he rose from his nap amongst his pile of texts, notebooks, and papers to answer the doorbell that had just chimed for what seemed like the hundredth time. Wearily he crossed to the door, wishing that he could just be left alone to finish his paper before his looming deadline. Even though he admittedly was accomplishing less work and more worry as the days came and went.
“Who’s there?” Chris shouted through the thin apartment door, even as he opened the cover over the peephole to see his friend Steve standing impatiently on the other side of the threshold.
“Guess I better get used to Mr. Graduate’s degree standing me up, huh?” Steve said before Chris had barely cracked open the door.
“What on earth are you talking about man?” Chris responded with an obviously bewildered look on his face.
“Tuesday night wings man, every Tuesday for years now Chris! You don’t even know what day it is, do you?” his friend asked with a chuckle.
Chris paused to think and sure enough Tuesday had snuck right up to him.
“Yeah, you can say that again. I guess I’ve been working harder than I thought man, I’m sorry.”
“Just what I thought. Also, if I know you, that pile of massive writer’s block you’ve got sitting on your coffee table in there indicates that you have accomplished a whole lot of nothing during your personal sequestering, right?” Steve asked as he leaned into the living room, eying the piles of research paraphernalia that surrounded the couch and coffee table like an agoraphobic’s safety fort.
Chris looked at his friend with a raised eyebrow and started to think that Steve might know him entirely too well.
“You’re right,” Chris heaved with a sigh, “But there’s nothing left to do, but write this thing and I just can’t seem to get my thoughts together.” He knew the reason why, but held it back as he looked towards Steve; who nagged him too much about women and dating as it was. The last thing that Steve needed to hear was that he couldn’t wrap his head around research, because it had been wrapped around Skylar. Not that there was too much to think about on that subject, he hastily attempted to tell himself once again.
After all, it wouldn’t be fair for him to make any kind of a move with her. She wanted romance and for someone to be around for her and he couldn’t promise her that. If she was going to give up on guys like Joey who stood her up then what good would it do for him to be a part of her life? He had so much going on sometimes that he couldn’t even remember it was Tuesday, let alone function enough to keep a date. Skylar would think she wasn’t worth more to him than his grades and he wouldn’t be stupid enough to play with her heart like that. Even if he couldn’t stop wondering what she had done that day or who she was talking to or whether they were going to be the kind of person she deserved to have in her life.
He had to give her that independence, though, because she clearly couldn’t find happiness with someone like him.
“Well, your thoughts are sure to be clearer after a beer or seven,” Steve cajoled.
“I don’t think your ideas of clear are the same as mine,” Chris said flatly.
“Well, either way, you could use some decompression time. I mean honestly Chris, when was the last time you thought about anything other than work?”
“I’m a goal oriented person, what can I say.”
“Excuses, excuses. You need to orient yourself to some relaxation. Who knows, you might even relax yourself into putting a coherent sentence on paper.”
Chris sat and studied his dimly lit apartment for a moment. The usually inviting glow of his multiple lamps that were meant to soften the light in the room suddenly seemed dull and almost depressing. In that moment he realized that his friend might actually be right about something concerning his mental well-being for once.
“Maybe I could use a short break. I did stand you up after all,” Chris replied with a sarcastic wink, “But I cannot allow you to get used to this special treatment, I have a reputation as a workaholic to uphold you know.”
“That’s my boy!” Steve teased as he patted Chris on the back.
“So what do you have planned for my brief research hiatus?” Chris asked as he began gathering the few things he wanted to take with him in the event of a sudden thesis breakthrough.
“I didn’t have anything planned actually. I didn’t think I would be able to convince you open the door, let alone leave the apartment.”
“Well, I’ve got to take a shower, because if it’s Tuesday then I haven’t taken a shower in…” Chris tilted his head and paused, counting to himself, “…yeah I need a shower… Just think about what you want to do and I’ll be out in a few minutes.” Chris ended by shutting the door to the bathroom and after a few moments Steve could hear the sound of the shower running.
Steve realized that his friend was more solitary than most guys his age and quickly ruled out the club scene, the mall
, gyms, or basically anything else that involved groups of people. Then, the thought of camping settled into his mind and he couldn’t quite shake it. He knew that Chris could use some fresh air and light not produced by the glare of a computer monitor. He felt pretty dejected, however, when he realized that Chris would never willingly consider an activity that took more than a few hours away from his studies.
“Which is why he won’t be able to consider it!” Steve thought, as a brilliant plan to basically trap his friend into going on a camping trip evolved in his mind.
“I’m going to the store while you finish up in there,” Steve shouted towards the bathroom, “You want anything?”
“No,” Chris’ muffled reply came from beyond the door, “See you when you get back, lock the door behind you.”
With that, Steve darted out the door, into his waiting Chevy Silverado, and over a few streets to a nearby sporting goods store; where he purchased and packed everything the two of them would need for a few days of roughing it outdoors. He then concealed it under a tarp in the back of his truck so that Chris might not notice it as soon as they approached his truck. With all the gear and plans in place, Steve started back to Chris’ apartment.
Steve drove as fast as he dared on the way back to the apartment complex in the hopes that Chris would not notice quite how long he had been gone. To that effect, he sprinted up the apartment stairs to Chris’ door, turned the knob, and in his excitement bashed his head into the locked door of his friend’s apartment. With a grumbled mutter he pulled the spare key out from beneath the rug and unlocked the door.
“Everything okay out there?”
Steve relaxed when he heard his friend's voice still coming from the bathroom. “Fine, just fine. Do you have a first aid kit in there?”
“First aid? The heck are you doing out there?”
“Missing crucial steps to basic functions,” he called back as he raided Chris's closet for enough changes of clothes to get through the next couple of days. He stuffed them into a bag that was sitting next to the things Chris had started to pack and then slung both bags over his shoulders.
When he straightened he was left staring at a bewildered but fully dressed Chris watching him from the bathroom door. “You don't look like you need first aid,” Chris pointed out slowly.
“Not right now, but it's better to be prepared,” Steve grinned as he grabbed his friend, first aid kit and all, and all but pulled him out to his truck.
“Prepared for what?” Chris asked sharply.
“Don't worry, we're not going down frat row again.”
“That doesn't answer my question.”
“Well, maybe one of those books you packed has the answer. Do some research while I drive, won't you?”
Steve made a show of innocently driving while Chris watched him suspiciously for a long moment. It wasn't long before Chris caved to the temptation of research, though, and Steve relaxed. By the time his friend looked back up from that book they were going to be deep enough in the mountains that Chris couldn't protest enough to make him turn back.
He would just have to hope that the notebook he had packed for Chris to use as a word processor was going to be enough of a peace offering to let him live through the first night. Not that he thought Chris would actually attempt to physically murder him but the looks that his friend had sometimes were soul scathing.
Still, Steve thought with a grin, it would totally be worth it to see his face when he realized what had happened.
Chapter Three
“So who do you keep texting over there? Tara and Andrew having problems again?”
“Dad,” Skylar said with a deadpan look at her father. “Tara and Andrew never have problems.”
“Uh-huh. Are they domestically disputing over there?” he asked. It wasn't all that unreasonable a question, Skylar surmised, since Tara did have a habit of texting when she was angry or upset so no one would know she was crying or yelling.
“No, I'm not talking to Tara. I'm talking to Grayson.”
Some parental sense made the set of her father's shoulders change. “Is Grayson a boy or a girl?”
“He's a guy,” Skylar said as her thumbs flew across the keypad screen of her phone. Really, she was much too old for her father to have that kind of reaction to who she was talking to.
“I'd appreciate it if you would look at me when I'm talking to you,” her father said.
Skylar looked up at him, sent a quick message to Grayson to tell him she'd be a minute before replying, and then gave her father her full attention. “Yes?” Apparently she was wrong. There were some tones a parent could adopt that no child could safely ignore despite their age.
“Where did you meet him?”
“With Tara.”
“How old is he?”
“Twenty-six.”
“Does he do drugs?”
“Daddy!”
“Well? You never know about kids these days.”
“You know about me,” Skylar said, stung on Grayson's behalf.
“Only because I know you,” her father grumbled.
“And you should know I wouldn't hang out with somebody that does that,” Skylar countered.
He made a dissatisfied noise in the back of his throat and went back to watching the news. “You're just talking?”
“He's taking me out to a movie tonight.”
Her father thought about that for long enough that Skylar started to pull her phone back out to text Grayson back since she thought he was done speaking. “You know the rules.”
“Dad. I'm twenty-eight.”
“Good, then you should know the rules extra well by now.”
“What rules, honey?” her mother asked as she came in to join them in watching the news, still shaking her hands slightly to dry them.
“The dating rules. She's going on a date tonight.”
Her mother caught her eye with a look that was equal parts delighted for her and worried. “How long have you known him? What's he like?”
“A couple of days, and he's really very sweet, Mom. We spent an evening just talking about books and movies and what he likes about the world or would change about it, and he's really smart and kind hearted. And when he sings it's just beautiful.”
“He sings?” her father asked with a flat look.
Her mother gave him a look and then smiled at her daughter. “Why he sounds wonderful. You be sure to have fun but don't stay out too late. You know what impression that gives.”
“I don't have to worry about that. He's a gentleman and has been getting me home well before anything like that comes up. Even Tara likes him.”
“Tara likes Andrew, too,” her father commented darkly. “Doesn't stop her texting you about him.”
“Only sometimes, and I'm sure that won't happen with Grayson. He's different, Dad, I know he is. He even asked if Tara and Andrew could double date with us so that I'm more comfortable with it.” She glanced down at her phone and made a startled sound of surprise. “Oh, but the movie starts at eight and it's almost seven!” So saying, she dashed up to freshen her makeup and change into her cuter pair of jeans and her favorite sweater since movie theaters got cold.
Skylar caught sight of herself in the mirror and she fluffed her hair and then frowned at herself. Something wasn't right. She gave her reflection an excitedly mischievous smile and changed out her sweater for a short sleeved blouse. If he was a gentleman, she reasoned, he'd bring a coat for her so that she wouldn't be cold. Besides, it was better to show him that she's interested by looking her best rather than wearing something just because it was practical.
She couldn't help but give voice to an excited squeal after she had found the perfect jewelry to go with her outfit. She danced around the room excitedly and then bid her parents a hasty farewell as she went to get into her car. Perhaps she was acting a little immature but no one had ever made her feel the way that Grayson did and she couldn't wait to make him a larger part of her life.
Skylar
took a few deep breaths as she fussed at how her hair fell over her shoulders. Maybe she was moving too fast, she thought as she stared at herself in the mirror. What if he wasn't all that he seemed, or if she had been mistaken about the moment happening between them? What if he didn't like her friends or appreciate her? What if he never went anywhere as a singer and she had to support them so that they could have a family?
After a panic driven minute she smiled at herself and shrugged. She wouldn't know unless she kept trying to figure it out. Besides, the worst that could happen would be that she would realize that she wasn't happy and break it off. Guys broke things off with her all the time so it wasn't going to be a big deal.
The drive to Tara's house seemed to be both the longest of her adult life and the shortest. She attributed the nervousness that she was experiencing to wondering whether she would still feel the same way about him. It seemed like he was definitely thinking about her, after all, what with all of his texts and the fact that he wanted to go out with her.
“Hey, girl, you look good,” Tara told her as she and Andrew climbed into her car.
“You think so? I wasn't sure if it was too much,” Skylar fussed.
Tara gave her a considering look and chuckled. “I'm sure it will be fine.”
“So this guy's a singer? What kinds of things does he sing about?” Andrew asked.
“Probably nothing you would find interesting,” Tara responded. “Mostly love and how it's a firework or a dying rose or whatever.”
“The lyrics are more meaningful than that,” Skylar protested. “They're very soulful.”
Her friends exchanged glances. “Of course they are. Does he do most of his own writing, then?”
“He writes the lyrics and comes up with a lot of the guitar parts and then the others add in their parts. That way it lets them all have their own voices in it and it sounds more organic.”
Tara wondered if Skylar actually thought that was the case or if she was merely parroting back things that Grayson had told her. She allowed the subject to drop, though, so that she wouldn't hurt her friend's feelings.
