“Hell yeah, they are.” I bobbed my head to the beat, and my fingers itched to pick up a guitar for the first time in months. They were fucking amazing.
McKenzie bounced in place like a rubber ball, singing along to the lyrics. When the song finished, the audience came undone.
That’s when the lead singer finally spoke. “We’re Helena’s Sweet Revenge. This next one’s called ‘Welcome to the Black Parade.’ Scream it if you know it.”
McKenzie gasped and gripped my arm. “This is my favorite.”
“Mine too,” I said, and I watched as the melody transformed her. She swayed next to me like a wildflower in the wind. Her eyes closed, and she dropped her head back onto her shoulders, face turned up at the ceiling as though it was the sun.
It was the most beautiful fucking thing I’d ever seen. I envied her because I longed to feel that way. Liberated. Uncaged. No longer held captive by my own mind.
The tempo picked up, and she reached for me in the darkness, threading her fingers through mine.
“Come on,” she shouted, knocking back the rest of her drink and slamming the empty plastic cup on one of the tables nearby. “You’re dancing with me.”
“Oh, I…” She wasn’t even trying to hear me as she grabbed my other hand. “I really don’t know what I’m doing.”
I nodded my head to the beat, suddenly self-conscious.
“You don’t have to know,” she said. “You just have to feel.”
Slowly, I began to follow her lead, moving in time with her like we were riding the wind of the same breeze. I twirled her and pulled her into me, our laughter lost in the noise of the crowd. The liquor had given her the courage to let go, but she was my shot of whiskey.
Somewhere along the way, I stopped thinking. The chatter in my head was overtaken by the music, the sweet scent of buttercream on McKenzie’s hair, and the warmth of her body in my arms. We swayed together, two wildflowers in a field of weeds, and in that moment, I was free.
“Easy there, Miss Independent,”I said, cutting the engine of my car in the gravel drive of McKenzie’s house. “Let me help you.”
“I don’t need help.” She’d already thrown open the door and was attempting to exit the vehicle with her seat belt still on. Luckily, the rain had relented or else the inside of my car would have been soaked.
“Right,” I said, clicking the button to free her from the strap.
“Hey, I had that,” she argued as her head lolled back against the headrest.
“Of course, you did.” I got out and hurried to her side where she was dangling from the seat, her legs buckling beneath her like pool noodles.
“I did,” she sang, before bursting into an adorable stream of giggles.“Not.”
“Put your arms around my neck,” I told her. “And I’m going to pull you up. Ready?”
She answered with a snort that made my shoulders shake with laughter, but I still managed to get her to her feet.
“This is nice,” she said, her voice taking on a slow, dreamy cadence. She planted herself face-first against my chest as I shut the door with my hip. “How do you still smell this good? I smell like the floor at The Basement.”
“Well, I did have to peel you off it,” I said with a chuckle, securing my arm around her waist. As the night had worn on, the liquor had taken its toll on her. By the end of the concert, she was struggling to keep herself upright.
“Excuse me, mister.” She twirled a clumsy finger around my face. “Are you judging me?”
“Nope. I’ve been the one on the floormanytimes,” I said, surveying the sidewalk and the front porch, which thankfully, only had three stairs. “You have a nice place.”
“Oh, the house?” she asked. “That’s not mine.”
“What?Whose house is this?”
She exploded into laughter, and my eyes darted around, certain we were both about to get arrested.
“We should go back to the car,” I said, but she swatted my arm.
“No, I live here,” she explained. “But I don’t live in the house. I’m in the apartment. Up there.”
