“No, you’re right. I’d love to go.”
Clapping her hands in excitement, Mac gives me a thumbs up. “Yay! A few of my friends are tagging along, as long as you don’t mind.” When I shake my head, she promises to text me what time the show starts, and we make plans to meet at the bar Thursday night.
“Awesome,” Mac beams at me before taking off. “Trust me, you’re going to love them.”
Chapter Nine
Two nights later, though, I definitely don’t love the fact that Corinne has invited herself to go with me to the show. It wouldn’t be so bad if she hasn’t spent most of the night pre-gaming in one of her friend’s room for some party she plans to go to at Baseball House immediately after. There’s a part of me that wants to tell her no when she comes into our room to find me getting ready, but when she shoots me a pleading look, her green eyes hopeful, I know I’ll feel like a jerk all night if I shoot her down.
“We never do anything like this together,” she says excitedly as we walk to the freshman parking lot to find my car. “You should come out with me after this is all over with, too.”
Searching my purse for my keys, I shake my head. “Trust me, I’m like the walking dead if I stay out too late on Thursday nights.” When her face crumbles in disappointment, I tell her, “Maybe this weekend, though?”
She seems pleased with this response as she scoots into the passenger seat of my car. All the way to Ippy’s, she talks about nothing but Daniel and the baseball team. I want to roll my eyes, but for some reason, this feels like déjà vu as I make the three-mile drive.
If I close my eyes so I don’t see Corinne’s curly red and brown hair and green eyes, and pretend like her voice is just a touch deeper, I don’t feel like I’m talking to a girl I barely know at all but to one I’m very much familiar with.
The Evie Miller from just a year ago.
And that scares me more than I ever thought imaginable.
I’m biting the inside of my cheek by the time I find a parking spot—about a block up from Ippy’s on the street—and as I search the ashtray for quarters for the meter, I carefully ask Corinne, “So, you and Daniel—are y’all serious?”
I try to remember the last time I’ve seen him come around our suite, but to be honest, I’ve been so busy with all things music related that I can’t recall seeing him lately.
Shaking her head, she shuts her door and comes around to join me on the sidewalk. “No, we’re just friends.” She produces a water bottle out of her giant purse, and makes a face as she takes a swig of whatever is actually inside it. Oh yes, this is definitely déjà vu. Giving me a suggestive grin, she loops her arm through mine and pulls me in the direction of the bar. “But, God, you should see him without his shirt on.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
We walk to the back of the line formed outside of Ippy’s, Corinne hobbling on another pair of her scary heels and me in my flat ankle boots.
While we wait behind a couple girls who are talking so loud I have to lean in to hear Corinne, my roommate informs me, “You look hot tonight, by the way. No wonder that redheaded guy is always coming around.”
She must be talking about Nathan. After I assure her that he and I are nothing but friends, and that I have no idea what he looks like without his shirt on, I smile and say, “But thanks. So do you.” Since this is the first time I’ve really gone out since that first night, I put a little extra effort in my appearance. At any moment the weather is going to take a turn for the worse, so tonight I’m taking advantage of a cute fit-and-flare dress I bought during the summer. It’s cream-colored and lacy, hugging my body in all the right places and showcasing my long legs.
I’d fully planned on wearing one of my customary hats, but when I started to slide one on, something stopped me. For a few minutes, I stared into my mirror, hearing Rhys’ words echo around my brain about hiding, and ended up tossing the floppy beret back onto the top of my closet.
Before we reach the front of the line to get our hands stamped, I grab Corinne’s shoulder and turn her slightly toward me. “Look, I don’t want to be a buzzkill, but you might want to throw out that water bottle. They might not let us in if they check your bag and think you’ll be drinking.”
I can vividly recall a time last year when I managed to sneak my own bottle full of vodka into an on-campus concert. Although my group was walking and nowhere near the wheel of a car, it hadn’t stopped the campus police from stopping us on the way back to our dorms late that night—something about making too much noise—and I’d received the first of my three underage drinking violations.
Corinne stares at me dumbfounded for a second, but then her springy curls move around her face as she nods in understanding. When we pass by a large trashcan that’s nearly overflowing with fast food wrappers and energy drink cans, she tosses the half-full bottle on the top.
After I pay both our cover charges, we push our way inside the bar. It’s nearly filled to capacity, which immediately speaks volumes for the band’s popularity. I spot Mac easily thanks to her high, stubby blond ponytail and the fact that she’s standing up scanning the crowd for me. She introduces Corinne and me to her three friends, two of whom I recognize from Ensemble Choir, but there’s no Eli in sight.
“Is he coming?” I ask as I sit beside her at the round table. She shakes her head and grabs a chip from the giant nacho appetizer parked in front of her.
“They’ve got some Thirsty Thursday party going on there tonight, so he begged off.” Leaning in to me, she tells me in a conspiratorial whisper, “But between us, he thinks the guitar player sucks. That’s how we met, by the way. In a camp for gifted musicians—he played guitar, I sang arias. It was awkward lust at first sight.” She pushes her plate of nachos toward Corinne and me, and my roommate grabs a few as Mac continues, “I think he’s just being an elitist asshole about the guitar thing, though.”
Corinne holds a napkin over her mouth to hide her chewing. “How long have you two been together?”
Mac pretends to think but I can tell from the way she smiles that she has her dates memorized like the back of her hand. “Since the start of my junior year of high school and his senior year, so a little over four years.” A second later when a tall girl with the brightest red hair I’ve ever seen bounces over to our table to talk to Corinne, stealing my roommate away only a moment after that, Mac lifts her eyebrow. “She’s dating that one guy on the team, right?” I watch her eyes roll up as she tries to remember Daniel’s name.
“They’re friends.” When she gives me a slow nod, I cast a quick glance at her friends who are currently engrossed in something one of them is showing off on her phone before scooting in closer to her. “This is purely me being curious but since Eli’s a baseball player ...”
“Oh, I’m all over it. There are way too many jerks on that team for me to let that girl get screwed over. I had my heart ripped out by a douche master before Eli and I started dating, so I don’t stand for that crap.” When I shoot her a grateful smile, she gives my hand a hard pump. “I’d do the same thing for you.”
With that said, we spend the next few minutes talking about music before the band comes on stage. As soon as they play the opening number of their set, I can quickly see why Mac was so insistent on me coming. The talent pulsating from them is undeniable, and I watch transfixed as the guitarist—who turns out to be a gorgeous strawberry blonde with boobs that somehow make me feel inadequate with my small C-cups—scans the crowd, her gaze turning sultry as she rakes it across the very back of the room.