by M. H. Soars
Remi looks up from her keyboards and the thick wired glasses and big bun on top of her head makes her look like a little girl. She’s wearing her usual comfy clothes—a funky, vintage T-shirt and sweatpants. So when she takes note of my appearance, she frowns. A second later, her gaze travels past my shoulder and understanding dawns on her face. “No, you didn’t.”
Remi’s gaze is fixed on Oliver who is right behind me. Tabatha whirls around to see what’s going on and sharpens her eyes.
“Who’s that?”
Oliver walks around me and with a cocky grin, extends his hand toward Tabatha. “Hi, I’m Oliver Best, Saylor’s friend.”
Tabatha knows who Oliver is—who doesn’t? And she also knows that I can’t stand the guy, or couldn’t. Whatever. So it’s no surprise when she ignores his outstretched hand and raises an eyebrow at me. “Right.”
I sense a lecture in my near future.
Tabatha’s rude attitude doesn’t seem to affect Oliver in the least. With swagger in his steps, he introduces himself to Damien, who doesn’t seem to recognize him. He’s probably high again. Oliver then greets Remi with a hug, before flopping onto a bean bag chair like he owns the place. He stretches his long legs and leans back, lacing his hands behind his head.
We’ve been cramming practices to prepare for Battle of the Bands organized by DuBose College, my alma matter, so my guitar is here. I’m not allowed to play it at Remi’s house anyway. Her grandparents—who are still there—can’t tolerate the noise of electric guitars.
I remove Rita—yeah, I named my guitar too—from its case and connect it to the amps. After much deliberation, we’ve decided not to start our set with an original song. We want to win the crowd first with a classic before we play one of our own.
I lock gazes with Oliver and I’m taken over by jitters. I’m afraid he’ll think we suck and for some shallow reason, I want to impress him. His opinion shouldn’t matter, but it does. Not because he is a celebrity, but because it’s him. Dangerous thoughts, Saylor. Dangerous thoughts.
Tabatha does the countdown and I force my head to synch in with the melody. My fingers take control and the familiar guitar riff of The Kids Aren’t Alright by The Offspring fills the room. Oliver sits up straighter, as if surprised by our song choice. When a satisfied grin unfurls on his lips, warmth spreads through my chest. I sing the entire song without taking my eyes off of him.
I didn’t think it would be possible, not with Oliver in the room filling my mind, but this was the best set Wreck of the Day had played to date. By the end of it, I feel energized and ready for anything. If we play like this at the competition, the ten-thousand-dollar cash prize will be in the bag.
The girls and Damien decide to grab a bite to eat but I have other plans on my mind. No one makes a big fuss that Oliver and I aren’t joining them, but Tabatha gives me a look that says we will have a serious talk later.
On the way back to his place, he can’t stop gushing about how awesome we were, but a migraine has made its presence known and I barely hear him out. Fuck, they had been gone for so long, I could almost pretend that nothing was wrong with me.
Oliver places a warm hand on my leg and I look at him. “What’s the matter, luv? You’ve been awfully quiet.”
“I’m just tired.”
He chooses to ignore my lie and turns his gaze back to the road. “Like I said before, I think you girls are fucking amazing, but…” he trails off and now he has me curious.
“But what?”
“Please promise not to be mad at me?”
“What is it, Oliver? Spill it already.”
“That Damien guy doesn’t fit.”
“Why?” My tone is sharp for no good reason. I know more than anyone that Damien is the wrong person for our band, so why am I so defensive?
“First, and I’m going to sound sexist when I say this, an all-girl rock band with sexy musicians is much more commercial. I know that you want to make it big based on your talent alone, but sex sells. Having an unattractive male drummer who is also a stoner won’t help your image.”
I don’t say anything to that because I’m pissed. Who the hell does Oliver think he is, our manager? But Oliver either seems oblivious to my murderous stare or he just likes to hear himself talk.
“Second, he’s not that talented. He’s holding you back.”
I open and close my mouth, wanting to lash out at him. But I don’t because deep down, his assessment was dead on. The sudden rage vanishes like magic. The doctor had warned me that one of the symptoms I could experience was change of personality. Was this irrational reaction to Oliver’s comment a sign that I’m changing as a person? Fuck. This. Shit.
“I know,” I say after a while. “But finding a good drummer is almost impossible. We’ve held several auditions and Damien was the best we could find.”
“Maybe I can make some calls.”
I glance at Oliver, but with the dimness inside the car it’s hard to read his expression. The offer does something to my insides, though, a fluttering in my belly that shouldn’t be there. It doesn’t matter. Battle of the Bands is in a couple of weeks, it would be suicide to get a new drummer now.
“I appreciate the offer, but we’re good.” My reply sounds clipped because the constant pounding in my head is not helping one bit.
I don’t fail to notice how hard Oliver clenches his jaw. He’s mad at me now. Fucking great. One week into our arrangement and it looks like we are having a couple’s quarrel already.
“I’m tired. Why don’t you just take me home?” I say.
Oliver stops the car and I realize we are at his place. He unbuckles his seat belt before turning to me. I expect anger, but a different kind of fire swirls in his eyes instead. A raw, untamable need that makes my breath catch and my head spin.
He lowers his smoldering gaze to my lips. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to do that right now.”
His voice is low and thick, loaded with desire. He cups the back of my head and crushes his lips against mine, prying them open with his tongue. I melt into the kiss like butter and all thoughts of going home evaporate into thin air. The migraine becomes a faint throb, easily forgettable.
Things become intense quickly and it’s clear we won’t be able to do what we want confined inside the small coupe. Even so, I don’t know how we manage to untangle from each other long enough to make it into the house. Before we even cross the threshold, we are already yanking at each other’s clothes in a mad race to connect skin to skin. Oliver pushes me up against the wall in his kitchen, and my legs wrap around his hips. The tip of his cock rubs against my entrance and before I can say anything, he plunges inside with a swift stroke. And oh my God, he feels so good, too good. In the back of my mind, I know I’m forgetting something, but it’s really hard to think straight when all I can feel is Oliver everywhere, touching, kissing, pumping.
“Your. Pussy. Is. So. Fucking. Addictive,” he says in a low, guttural voice before claiming my mouth again.
We come within seconds of each other, the orgasm leaving me devastated and spent. I rest my chin on Oliver’s shoulder with my legs still wrapped tight around him, as we both gasp, fighting for air.
He unsheathes from me and slowly, I untangle my legs, placing my feet on the floor. And suddenly I remember what we forgot.
“Shit.” I look at the mess running down my legs.
Oliver takes two steps back with eyes wide open and unblinking. He looks at my legs and then his gaze snaps back up to my face.
“Please tell me you’re covered.”
“Yes. I’m on the pill, jackass.” I can’t believe that’s what he’s worried about. An unwanted pregnancy. I’m more concerned about STDs at the moment.
He exhales in relief and runs his fingers through his short hair. “Fuck, I almost had a heart attack for a moment there.”
He walks to the sink and shoves a towel under the water, returning to me a moment later.
“Here. Sorry about the mess.”
I’m glaring at him when I yank the towel from his hand. “Are you clean?”
Understanding finally dawns on his stupid face. “Oh, that’s what’s eating you. Yeah, sugar. I’m clean. I always wear a condom and I’ve been tested.”
“You always wear a condom?” I laugh without humor.
Oliver surprises me when he tucks a lose strand of my hair behind my ear. “Yes. Always. Never broke that rule until tonight.”
I don’t know what to make of that statement, so I do the only thing I can, I turn on my heel and make a beeline to the bathroom. Running away is my specialty.
Eighteen
SAYLOR
Oliver and I don’t have any more slip-ups. I make sure we have a condom ready to go every time we are in the same room. I don’t care that he said he was clean. My mother, despite her many faults, made sure I understood why using protection every single time is important. She didn’t need to say much to drive her point home. Heck, every time I look in the mirror I see the consequence of unprotected sex. Me.
I’m with the band tonight, crammed in the old Volkswagen van Tabatha bought a week ago. She insisted we all drive together to Battle of the Bands, held at the Hartfield Amphitheater in the heart of DuBose campus. The van is an awful baby blue color and Remi aptly named it the Mystery Machine. All we’re missing are the green and orange decals.
When Tabatha accidentally runs over a pothole, I feel the impact in every single bone in my body. The shock absorbers are non-existent in this car.
“For fuck’s sake, pay attention to where you’re going. I think one of the drumsticks just jammed into my ass,” Damien complains and Remi laughs.
“Do you think this is funny? I don’t know why I had to be the one riding in the back with the equipment.”
“Because you’re the only guy and majority rules,” Remi replies.
“That’s fucking bullshit.”
“Shut your mouth, Damien, or I’ll make sure I run over every hole and bump on the road I can find,” Tabatha snaps. She’s still angry at Damien because he missed the last couple of practices. We should be glad that he showed up on time to ride with us to the competition. He’s getting more and more unreliable.
“Please don’t,” Remi begs. “The springs in this seat are murderous.”
“I’ll trade places with you. I can’t feel my legs,” Damien says.
I’m glad when I spot the familiar silhouette of the amphitheater ahead, because if I had to listen to Remi and Damien bitch about one more thing, I was going to throw them out of the moving van. With a quick glance in Tabatha’s direction, I can tell that she’s feeling the same way. If this short ride proved anything it’s that we are so not in synch. That is ‘no bueno’ when it comes to a band. If there’s no harmony, then we can’t make magic.
The parking lot is already filled with cars and it’s no surprise. Dubose College, being a school known for its performing arts programs, puts on a hell of a Battle of the Bands. Only students or formers students can enter the competition which is why I was able to get a spot in the line up.
Tabatha proceeds to the back of the building since we’re participants and we need to unload our equipment. The sucky part about being a poor band is that we must do everything ourselves. No roadies. But the event’s organizers said there would be technicians to help us set up everything on stage before our time to go.
As soon as the van is unloaded and our instruments are in the designated area, Damien claims he needs to find something to eat. He bails before Tabatha can stop him.
“He better be back here soon,” she says.
“Relax. He has his pass. He’s probably going to show it off to the pretty girls out there,” Remi points out.
She’s being optimistic. I don’t think Damien is after pussy right now. We really need to find a replacement for him. Maybe if we win tonight, we won’t have such a hard time finding a talented drummer.
“You know, I could eat as well. I spied some food trucks up front.” Remi stares longingly in that direction.
“Okay, let’s get some grub and come back here before the first band goes up.”
I never eat before I perform, but getting out there and mingling with the crowd might be good to distract me from my nerves. I always get jitters before a show even if I don’t show it.
Remi and Tabatha decide to go for spicy Cuban sandwiches. It looks super delicious, I might have to come back here afterwards. I hope they don’t run out of food.
I scan the area while they eat, wondering if Oliver will be here. He knows about tonight, but he never showed any indication that he wanted to come. I didn’t invite him either. That would change the dynamics of our little arrangement. It’s bad enough that he acts like my boyfriend around my bandmates. Still, a small part of me wishes he would come and surprise me. It’s juvenile and stupid. I have no business wishing for anything from him besides wicked good sex.
I’m so wrapped up in my thoughts about Oliver that I don’t notice someone has gotten close to me before I feel the weight of an arm over my shoulder. My heart skips a beat, and the butterflies in my stomach become little radioactive buggers. I turn expecting to see Oliver’s smug face there, but I’m greeted by another blond guy with longer hair and tanned skin. My disappointment is almost too much to hide.
“How is my favorite lead singer in the entire universe doing?” Levi asks.
I remove his arm off of my shoulder and take a side step. “I’m doing great. I didn’t know you were in town.”
Levi went to DuBose as well, and although we didn’t run in the same circles, he is the type of guy that everyone just knows. Plus, I think Emma went to the same high school as him.
He shrugs and throws his head back, trying to get his long bangs off of his face, unsuccessfully.
“Bali was boring. I heard about Battle of the Bands and that Wreck of the Day was a contender, so I cut my trip short.”
“You just came to see us play?” Remi asks and I notice some wistfulness in her voice.
“Of course. I wouldn’t miss seeing Saylor here rock her hot bod on that stage for anything in the world.”
I roll my eyes because that type of cheap flirtation is all you can expect from Levi. A little bit over a year ago, Levi was really into Kennedy and he wouldn’t leave her alone. I don’t know if they actually ever hooked up—Kennedy is not one to spill the beans about her sex life—but they are good friends now and Levi’s dad is actually Kennedy’s new agent.
“We should head back,” Tabatha announces.
“Break a leg, girls. I’ll be front stage, cheering you on. I might even throw you my underwear, Blue.” He smacks my butt before he walks away.
I watch him leave for a couple of seconds before I turn my attention to the girls. I’m surprised when I see Remi frowning at me.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing. Let’s go.”
Shit. What has gotten into her? Is she jealous of Levi and me? God, I had no idea she had a thing for the surfer boy. A feeling of dread drips down my spine and I wonder if there will be a band after tonight.
We head to the backstage area where all the other bands are waiting for their turn. Two bands have already performed. We each are expected to sing five songs and they can all be originals or a mix of originals and covers. Most bands choose the mix since the jury also takes into account the crowd’s response to the bands. It’s much easier to win the crowd when you play a popular song.
Remi is still acting weird, not even glancing in my direction. Her arms are crossed in front of her chest and she’s actually pouting. In one corner, Tabatha is burning a hole through the floor as she paces back and forth with her phone glued to her ear. She must be calling Damien because he’s still MIA. We have too many problems already and I can’t let Remi go on stage without clearing the air between us first.
“Hey, what’s eating you?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit. You’ve been acting weird since Levi sh
owed up.”
“I didn’t know you and him had a thing going on.”
I laugh because the idea is ludicrous. “I don’t have a thing with Levi. He’s just a guy I know from school and his dad is Kennedy’s agent. I guess I could call him a friend if I applied the term loosely, but that’s about it.”
“Oh, I thought…” she shakes her head. “Never mind.”
“So, you’re into him.”
Remi chews on her bottom lip and stares at her shoes. “Maybe. I’ve seen him surfing a couple of times before. He’s cute and doesn’t take himself too seriously.”
“He’s a clown for sure, but he’s also a mega flirt.”
Remi opens her mouth to reply when something catches her attention. Curious, I turn around and my eyes land on Oliver. I can’t believe he came. I begin to get over excited but then I finally notice that he’s not alone. He is just a little further ahead of us, talking to two very enthusiastic girls. I can’t see what they are wearing exactly with all the people in between us blocking the view, but I bet they are dressed like tramps. Oliver is smiling at them with his famous crooked smile, a smile I was beginning to believe was exclusive to me.
Naïve much, Saylor?
I’m glued to the spot, frozen like a statue, but my heart is beating savagely in my chest and it hurts so much. There’s a sudden opening in the crowd, and I can see perfectly when one of the groupies touches his chest possessively. Oliver doesn’t pull back. On the contrary, he seems to be enjoying the attention. I guess he has decided our little affair has run its course and that is his shitty way to let me know—by flirting with skanks right before I’m supposed to perform. I knew Oliver was a jerk, but this is the lowest of the lows.
The hurt turns to anger and I’m ready to march up there and punch his fucking face when Damien stumbles into me.
“Hey, watch where you’re going.” I push him off, noticing the smell of alcohol and weed.
“Where the fuck have you been, Damien?” Tabatha is on him before I can blink.
“Chill out, I was just getting ready for the show.” He stumbles to the side, barely managing to stay upright.
