Page 43 of Goodbye Note

Arik walked out to stand in front of the mic center stage. His big personality had nothing on who he became when he performed. His tee pulled tight across his broad shoulders like he was built to play sports, not write music.

Arik wasn’t singing yet. He had his lip caught between his teeth and his eyes on his fingers as he plucked the notes. He wasn’t the best guitarist by far, and clearly self-taught, but the emotion in his music was something else. Smart lyrics filled with double and triple entendres.

He captivated the audience from the moment he came on. I couldn’t look away, and neither could the rest of the festival. He demanded attention and held it. The audience held their breath, poised on a knife edge. He owned the stage.

Arik came in with a low, husky voice, capturing the crowd in a trance. He swayed his hips, moving with the music—no, becoming the baseline. He wasn’t even playing base. His body moved with an instrument he wasn’t even playing, but none of those things drew the audience in. I couldn’t put my finger on what made him so magical or intoxicating because it wasn’t only in person. He had the same effect on me as his album.

There were some bands that when you saw them live, they created a religious experience or even a transcendent one. When people went to go see live music, this was what they were looking for. Most headlining artists could bring this level of experience to their die-hard fans, but this kid could do it in a field full of people who didn’t know a single one of his songs.

A part of me was jealous.

“I see the way you’re looking at him,” Val whispered into my ear about halfway through their set.

I lifted a shoulder. What could I say?

I knew the moment Arik spotted me. A smile curled over his mouth as he pressed it against the mic. He pushed his fingers into his hair and then pointed at me. Something a ton of artists did, to let me know he saw me, but wouldn’t be too out of the ordinary and draw attention to us.

I gave him a two-finger salute.

He shook his head, but over and over, his gaze returned to where I stood with that fucking smile.

It felt like it was just the two of us, even in a field with eighty-thousand people.

* * *

“Okay, you were right,” Val said when they played out their last encore.

“I told you.” I nodded at the line for their merch table, which was busier than the headliner and had a substantial line. Their records would sell out fast.

“I know he’s the new shinny hyper-focus but please don’t fall in love with him while he thinks you’re just friends.” He paused. “You deserve someone who’s serious about you.”

“I swear to god I’m going to marry the first person who is serious about me.” I laughed, but it wasn’t really a joke.I craved someone who wanted me for me. Who didn’t see my father.

“That’s like asking the universe to send you a serious stage-five clinger.”

“If it’s Arik, I won’t complain.”

He rolled his eyes as we backed out of the crowd to go get ready for our set. “You need help.”

“I’ll get right on that therapy thing when we aren’t touring twenty-four-seven.”

Val stopped. “I need a coffee or some sugar. I’m dizzy.”

“Did you eat today?” I asked, knowing the answer.

“They didn’t have anything I’d touch in the lunch tent.”

“You picky bastard. We need to get you some snacks for the bus and tell Fox not to touch them.”

“Fat chance.”

I sent a quick text to Arik while we made our way to the main stage to play our set.

Varian: You killed it.

“Should I invite Arik to watch us?” My thumbs hovered over the screen.

Val gave me a look. “That sounds like a bad idea.”

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