Page 130 of The Alternate Captain
“Let me just get this bit, Kelly. Keep still,” he says, tugging at my hair.
I’m so nervous I can’t even bring myself to protest. I let him do what he needs to, and then he moves away again, returning moments later with a can of hairspray.
“I don’t need that,” I say, trying to swat him away, but he eyes me nervously.
“Just a quick spritz, Kelly... like that.” He steps back and gets me to twirl on the spot before nodding.
The chatter from people makes the place unbearable, and I can’t even hear myself think. It’s probably why I don’t hear someone calling my name until they come to a stop right in front of me.
“You’re Kelly, right?” a dark-haired guy with glasses says, and I nod.
He shoves a small box into my chest before spinning on his heel and striding away before I can work out what just happened.
I step away from Darren, turning my back to him before peeking inside the box. There’s a single rose inside. It’s made of sheet music, but this time, it’s one of the pieces we’re playing tonight.
There’s a small piece of paper with it, and when I unfold it, there’s a heart drawn in black pen, and the memory of last night comes flooding back.
I told him I loved him. I told him. Shit.
Stuffing the note back into the box, I tuck it into my bag and turn back to Darren, who’s eyeing me suspiciously. Then Patrick appears out of nowhere and gives us our two-minute warning, gesturing for us to follow him up to the edge of the stage.
There’s a curtain blocking the view, but when someone slides it open slightly to let the stage crew through, I spot Johnny straight away. And once he catches me looking, he beams at me, his eyes lighting up like a thousand lightbulbs. And seeing him makes my heart pound even harder than it was already.
I told him I loved him.
Do I love him? Do I even know what love is? I don’t know, but I’ve said it. It’s out there.
My cheeks grow hot, and I want the stage to open up and consume me whole. Because I cannot right now. First off, he wasn’t due to come to opening night. Even when I left him in bed this morning, I’d geared myself up to not see him until Thursday. And second, how can he be here when he’s got practice tomorrow morning? It doesn’t make any sense.
“What’s your ex doing here?” Darren leans in and hisses into my ear.
We’re waiting for the previous group to clear the stage, so the curtain keeps flapping open every few seconds.
“I guess he’s just here to show his support. You know, in place of Mike or something.” I don’t know why I lie but it just falls out into the air, and I can’t take it back.
He’s sat in the third row back, and he’s at least a full head taller than everyone else, so it’s no surprise that Darren would have spotted him too.
“Right. Are you two ready?” Patrick says, coming to a stop behind me and Darren.
We both nod, and I feel so awkward now, my hands are shaking.
“All you need to do is play like you’ve been practising. And remember, you’re the only ones who really know when you’ve messed it up.”
I love that. A true mark of Patrick’s confidence. But whatever.
Patrick strides onto the stage after someone in the distance signals for him to come forward, and he stops in the centre, bending at the waist and giving the introduction spiel that he’s been writing all day.
He did run through it with us earlier, but I wasn’t concentrating. I’m still not concentrating now, because I’m looking right at Johnny, and I’m thinking about last night. And the complete euphoria I felt when he... oh my God. We didn’t use a condom.
I rack my brain, trying to think if I took my pill earlier today, and I’m cut short when the audience starts applauding and Darren nudges me forward.
I get to my chair and pull the spike out of the end of my cello.
I definitely took it, right?
I settle my cello between my knees and tighten my bow a turn.
Yes. I definitely did.
