Page 4 of Not Your Little Girl Anymore

“Soda. Are you serious, Summer?”

I roll my eyes. “I don’t drink, Chlo.”

She shrugs. “Suit yourself. You know, you should live a little. You deserve it. Especially after your mom.”

My heart sinks. “Please don’t bring Mom up right now.”

Chloe frowns. “I’m sorry.”

Nora places a can of soda. I take it as Chloe thanks her and pays for our drinks.

When we walk away I sigh. “Thank you, Chloe.”

“No probs. You owe me.”

I smile, but my attention draws to the crowd of people that walk past us. I pop open the can of soda and take a large gulp. We follow along the short dirt path, stopping off to the side of the field. My stomach curls at the sight of the large group of people, but thankfully Chloe stops off to the side and away from the crowd.

There’s a part of me that feels out of place. It’s not that I don’t belong here. But going by how everyone dresses, they’ve known this band for some time now. Everyone is wearing the band’s merch.

I take another sip of my soda, savoring the taste. “How long has this band been a thing?”

“A thing? Oh, I don’t know for sure. Rumor has it the lead singer fought tooth and nail for the town to approve them to play here,” Chloe explains.

I swallow, watching the crowd gather closer, and a few security guards walk on stage. “They seem very popular.”

There are a couple of enthusiastic fan girls off to the side who let out piercing screams. I jump from the unexpected sound, raising my hand to my ear and massaging it from the overwhelming noise. Chloe chuckles, knowing that I am not used to crowds like this.

She nudges my arm and points to the stage with her cup in her hand. My eyes follow the motion. “That’s the drummer, Tyler,” she states.

He’s lean, decked out in a torn muscle shirt. His messy hair gives away the fact that this is a punk-rock band. He hops onto the stool behind the drum set in the far back and taps his foot on the foot pedal. Once, twice, and a third time.

He leans to the side where a microphone sits. “How’s everyone doing this evening?”

Everyone screams in response, and he chuckles, making my insides squirm. I can’t help but silently laugh. It’s not because it’s funny, but it’s actually nice to be in this crowd and see how excited everyone is.

Two more band members walk onto the stage. One is a guy dressed more casually than the drummer, despite his torn jeans. The other is a petite female with long brown hair braided to the side.

“That’s Samantha and James,” Chloe says.

“So, do you know them?”

She shakes her head. “Just their names. I’ve watched them a few times now. They’re good.”

They’re all young, around my age. I turned twenty four last October. I wonder how I haven’t heard of them before. That’s the downfall of living in New York for the past few years.

The crowd screams as soon as another guy walks onto the stage. He stops in the middle of the stage, where a single microphone sits. His jeans aren’t torn. He has a solid white short-sleeve shirt underneath a sleeveless black leather jacket. His hair is short, with faded edges, and slightly longer on top. From where Chloe and I stand, I can tell he keeps a clean face. His short beard is perfectly lined.

“Who’s that?” I ask Chloe.

“That’s Alec, the lead singer. Pretty sure the one who started the band.”

I nod, chewing on the inside of my cheek, watching as he brings his mouth close to the microphone and smiles.

“Who’s ready to have some fun?”

Everyone starts to cheer.

James picks up a black guitar and passes it to Alec. Alec takes it, swings the strap over his shoulder, and plucks some strings.

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