Page 31 of Pretty Black

I held up my hands to show the Xs. “It’s okay. I don’t need a drink.”

He nodded to one of the bartenders, and the guy leaned in so Caspian could whisper to him. The bartender produced hand sanitizer, and Caspian put it on the top of my hands, easily rubbing the X off. The bartender handed him a band, and he put it on my wrist.

“Fixed.”

“I shouldn’t drink more than this.” I picked up the cup, too tempted to chase nothing but knowing what the consequences would be. I didn’t need to catch my stepfather’s fists. If I came home drunk, he’d accuse me of stealing. No one touched his alcohol, not even my mother. “How’d you do that?”

He held up two fingers to the bartender who made the second drink. “My grandfather owns it.” He said it like I would have told someone my address. Or what my favorite color was. There wasn’t anything awe inspiring to him about the admission.

“Is that why you’re here?”

He shook his head. “No, I like Choking On It.”

I laughed before realizing that was the headliner’s name. “Don’t we all?”

His lips curled into a grin. “Some of us.”

“What other music do you like?”

“Lots.” He named a bunch of indie alternative and rock bands, even some metal. “Depends on my mood. I like to listen around, to expand what I play.”

“You play?” I asked and leaned in, more invested in conversation but still wanting to hold onto the feel of the music as long as possible.

“Guitar and some piano.” He followed suit, shoulder against mine though the space didn’t require us to be pressed against one another any longer.

The admission shocked me. It was unusual for the kids at our school. Music was classical and an instrument that would look good on college applications.

“Not violin?”

“I started with cello.” He finished his drink and set the empty cup on the bar top behind us. The bartender replaced it, which told me everything he’d said was true.

“There it is,” I laughed.

“Don’t read into it. I wasn’t any good much to my parents’ displeasure.” His smile returned. “Are you only a music enjoyer or do you also play?”

“I play.” I drifted, feeling the effects of the alcohol already.

“Are you going to tell me what?”

I laughed, putting my fingers to my lips. “After.”

I wanted to help people taste this. Music wasn’t only for the ears. It was a full body experience when done right, to be felt and experienced. I closed my eyes and screamed with the crowd until my voice was hoarse and my throat burned, and then I screamed more. I’d never felt so close to two hundred other people.

And then there was silence inside my mind.

A bliss only music could bring.

“Now will you tell me?” Cas asked when the band had played their last encore.

Fans moved all around us, going to the stage to try and get set lists or picks but neither of us moved. I hadn’t even turned to face him.

“I play guitar.” A shit acoustic one I’d found at goodwill, but it did the job well enough to teach myself the cords because I was obsessive about it. Practicing the fingering over and over and over in my head and every minute my mother wasn’t in the apartment.

“Let’s go someplace else,” he said in the rush of a breath.

“Is this the part where you try and get me to suck your dick?” I searched his face.

He held his hand between us. “Would you say yes if it was?”

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