“Listen...” I pause for his name.
“Brady. Brady Carsen,” he discloses.
“Listen, Brady. I’m not the kind of girl you are looking for. So I thank you for stopping my fall and helping me pick up my things, but why don’t you just give me my keys. You can go up and play and I will go home.”
“Kind of girl I’m looking for?” He raises his eyebrows. “Just stay and afterwards we can get to know each other better.” There’s that phrase, ‘get to know each other’, which clarifies to me again that I’m not the girl he wants. I figure the easiest way to get him to leave me alone is to agree to his terms.
“Alright, I’ll stay,” I agree, already deciding that I will leave once he starts playing. He finally hands me my keys and I keep them placed in my hand, planning my escape.
“You’re going to love it,” he says and grabs my hand, tugging me back the way I came.
He stops me at a spot on the right-hand side at the corner of the kitchen/dining room. “Stay here. I’ll come back for you after the show,” he whispers in my ear, since the band before him is still playing. He turns away from me, but quickly turns back around.
“I never caught your name.”
“Sadie Miller,” I spill out before thinking I should have given him a fake name.
“It’s nice to meet you, Sadie. Enjoy the show.” With a turn of his heels he walks away from me.
Five minutes later, the one band has taken off their equipment and I’m guessing the three other guys up on stage with Brady are the remaining members of The Invisibles. When they are all ready, Brady looks my way. He winks at me before he jumps off stage and walks toward the back hallway.
Abruptly, the whole place gets quiet and people push their way through the crowd to get as close as possible. I see now why Brady positioned me here; no one will be able to push me around and I can still see the stage clearly. All the lights go off and then colored lights beam down from the ceiling. I’m surprised they only do this for The Invisibles. What about the other bands? Why don’t they get this special treatment?
A guy who is older than me by ten years or so stands up to the microphone. His hair is in a long Mohawk with different streaks of color throughout. He introduces The Invisibles and Brady leads his band members up onto the stage. Brady takes the microphone off the stand and the drummer starts beating his sticks in the air. The guitarist and bassist stand in a wide stance, holding their instruments, anticipating the start.
Brady’s presence on stage demands attention and the crowd gives it willingly. He is probably just over six feet or so. Strong build but not overly muscular. His old school band t-shirt molds tight across his shoulders and it rises up when he raises his arms, exposing the small ripples of his stomach. Brady in jeans and a t-shirt is the most incredible vision, but I wouldn’t mind seeing him without them, too.
His voice carries throughout the bar/house. At first it is slow and steady but quickly builds into a faster beat. He appears completely enthralled in the moment, shutting his eyes from time to time, as though he feels every word. It is the sexiest thing I have ever witnessed and I know I can’t stay. This will only end one way, me in his bed and him ignoring me tomorrow. He is looking for a fast lay Sadie, nothing more, I think. Too bad I didn’t meet him last year. Pretty sure he could have showed me a thing or two.
I wait two songs and start making my way through the crowd, hearing the groans and protests for having inconvenienced them. When I get to the front door, bald man is no longer there. I hear Brady’s voice turn sultry and sexual while the music moves to a slower beat. This is my cue; if I hear it, I won’t have the self-control to walk away.
I open the screen door and step onto the street, trying to stay on the straight and narrow. My parents deserve it and Brady Carsen would veer me off the course of a trouble-free life.
That Monday I’m walking back to my dorm after a long Algebra course. I hate math; it is by far my worst subject. I have to find a tutor if I’m going to pass it. I make a mental note to check that out tonight. Digging into my messenger bag, I realize I forgot my iPod back in my room. Since the math building is clear on the other side of campus, it’s going to be a boring walk. It leaves me alone with my thoughts and there is nothing I hate more than that.
A half hour later, I grab my keys to open the dorm building. The quad is filled with laughter and jokes from students. A couple of girls sit in the corner and stare at some of the guys horsing around. Checking my mail, I’m not surprised to see the mailbox empty. I glance at my watch and notice it’s only three o’clock, making me relieved that Jessa has another hour before she has to leave for class. I hate being in that room by myself. It is the sole reason I decided to go into the dorms instead of getting an apartment.
When I open the door to my room, I see Jessa sitting on her loft bed. Our room is small so we opted for two loft beds. We set up chairs and a table under one and the television under the other. Our small refrigerator sits next to the television with a microwave on top. Our dressers line the walls on either side. It is close quarters, to say the least.
“You had a visitor today,” she says, beaming over at me.
“Who?” I question. I don’t know very many people here.
“Well, I’ll give you two hints.” She starts climbing down from her loft. “He is fucking hot and two, he is fucking hot. What else matters?” She grabs a water bottle out of the fridge.
“Okay. I don’t know any hot guys, so I’m at a loss.” I plop my bag down and grab a bottle for myself before sitting in my chair.
“Think really hard,” she says, sitting next to me. “He left something for you. I put it on your dresser.” She motions with her hand.
I stand up and lying on my dresser is my iPod with a sticky note attached.
“May I say, he is so beyond fuckable, Sadie. If you don’t jump on that, I will,” Jessa continues talking as I pull the note off.
Since you left without seeing my show,
I’m leaving you to your own private listening pleasure.
- B
“Brady Carsen?” I question, picking up my iPod. I thumb through the albums and spot The Invisibles listed. “How did he know where to find me?” I whisper to myself.
“You should have seen how upset he was you weren’t here. He hung around for a while, but said he had somewhere to be,” Jessa reveals, coming up behind me.
“Huh,” I mumble to myself. I grab my ear buds and climb up to my loft.
A couple minutes later, I hear the door shut and Jessa is gone. I curl up on top of my blankets listening to Brady sing to me. Surprisingly, there are quite a few love songs. I assumed they would mostly be loud and fast. I love how you can hear Brady’s breath suck in at the end of the lyrics. A particular slow song comes on and Brady’s soft voice starts singing, I thought I would be enough but I guess I was wrong. I never thought it was possible to miss someone for so long but you just keep walking away. When it gets back to the chorus my eyes start drooping and eventually I’m lulled to sleep with Brady’s voice filling my ears.
Chapter 3
In the last two days, I have listened to The Invisibles at least thirty times. It plays when I walk to class, when I study at the library, and when I fall asleep. Brady Carsen’s voice has an effect on me that I have never felt before. Even the faster songs bring a calming sensation over me.
Even though I know nothing about him, he consumes my every thought. I find myself doing a double take with every guy that sports a small Mohawk, checking if it’s him. I don’t even know if he is a student; he could very well be trying to make it to stardom as a musician.