Page 6 of A Dark Melody

“I promise. Your secret is safe with me.” The corners of his mouth curve upwards in a half smile as he pulls out a pack of cigarettes.

“It wasn’t a panic attack.” I say, my voice going up a little, and I quickly bite my lip, hoping it doesn’t give away to my lie.

“Okay.” He says, nodding his head again. He lights a cigarette. “Great show tonight.” He says as he inhales.

“Thanks. Can I bum one of those?” I nod to his cigarette. I could use some nicotine to calm my nerves.

“You smoke?” He raises an eyebrow but pulls out his pack again and pulls out a cigarette for me.

“On occasion.” I say as I put it between my lips. He lights it for me as he smokes his. “Thank you.”

He simply nods his head. “So, what, scared to see an ex or something?”

“What?”

“At the party.”

“Oh no. I don’t think any of my exes are there.” I shrug.

“So then what triggered your little not panic, panic attack?”

“Nothing. It was nothing. I’m fine.” I deflect, taking a puff off my cigarette.

“Okay then.”

We stand in silence for a while, just smoking.

“Do you even know my name?” He asks after a bit.

“Uh.” I pause, trying desperately to think if I knew it. “No. Sorry.” I admit after a moment, looking down in embarrassment.

He knew who I was, and I didn’t have a clue who he was, but since I’d seen him around before, I probably should.

“Here is a hint. I’m inHaunting Memories.”

I go through my memories to see if I can recall if I was ever told the names of the members of the second act of the tour. I don’t think I was, but it doesn’t matter if I had been told. I don’t know his name. I know how it’s going to look. It’s going to look like I’m stuck up, a rockstar who sees no need to know the opening acts.

“I’m not good with names,” I say softly. “I’m sorry.”

I just had to hope he wouldn’t think too poorly of me and then decide to go tell everyone about my panic attack.

“Wesley Whitmore.” He says with a small laugh. “I guess I’m not surprised I’m not on Abbey Dark’s radar.”

“No one is on my radar.” I say defensively. I don’t like that he knows I didn’t know his name or that he witnessed me having a panic attack. Now, he had some power over me.

“I just meant you’re a little out of my league, that’s all.”

“I’m not a snob.”

He laughs. “I meant you’re pretty, too pretty to pay attention to a guy like me. I didn’t mean it as an insult, so you don’t need to be so defensive.”

“I’m not being defensive.”

“Sure.” He smiles and puts out his cigarette. “And you didn’t have a panic attack, and you aren’t avoiding the party.”

“I’m not.” I say and go to put out my half-finished cigarette, but he reaches for it, taking it from my fingers.

“Don’t waste my nicotine.” He says, taking a puff off it.

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