I don’t let my jealousy get to me this time.
Yes, I wish I could be up there, and it sucks that I’m never going to be able to, but that doesn’t mean Mike shouldn’t. Mike’s dad taught him how to play guitar when he was five. It’s the way he connects with his parents, even when they’re gone, and I want that for him.
But I wish I could be up there with him.
“This place is packed,” Ryan says beside me, even though he’d never care any other time. “And it’s loud. Are you sure you don’t wanna go back to your place? We can play some video games while we knowhewon’t be lurking around.”
“I told him I’d come, Ryan.”
He shifts beside me, stretching his neck to see around the person in front of him. “I don’t get why he couldn’t have mentioned it earlier. I might’ve had other things going on tonight.”
“You just said you wanted to go home and play Xbox.”
“That’s not the point.”
I look over at him. He’s got his arms crossed and his jaw set, scanning the room with a frown, and I know that look. I’ve seen it at the gym when someone’s on the machine he wanted to use. He’s not going to say it, but he’s decided to leteveryoneknow he’s not having fun.
“Can’t you try to have a good time? Please,” I ask, a little desperate, because I really don’t want my best friend to hate my—
Mike.
An emotion I don’t have time to name flickers across his face as all the lights but the ones over the stage dim, my heart picking up in anticipation.
Mike’s friends settle in behind the drums and the bass, and the guy I’ve only seen the last time Mike’s band played comes out with the expression of someone who takes himself very seriously.
The girls cheer louder for him, so it must be working for him.
When Mike walks out, though, the crowd reacts immediately. Cheering and pressing closer. He takes it all in with the smile of someone having the time of their life. He’s wearing black jeans and a shirt I’ve never seen before, dark and fitted with his band logo, and his hair is styled differently. Slicked back, making his painted eyes pop.
My mouth goes dry.
He steps up to the microphone, scanning the crowd. “Hey everybody,” he says into the mic, earning another cheer from the crowd. Somewhere in front of me, a girl shouts his name, and that makes his smile even brighter.
Ryan leans over. “People really like this dude.”
“Yeah,” I say. “They do.”
I watch the girl who shouted his name. She’s pretty. All of her friends are. Everyone around the bar is looking at Mike the same way that I’m trying very hard not to.
But I don’t let that bother me.
He wrote a song for me. He’s coming home with me tonight.
I watch them play and let myself feel proud about that just this once, where no one can see me.
Three songs in, Mike steps back from the mic and reaches for the acoustic guitar I recognize from our living room.
“Okay,” Mike says, tuning the guitar while he talks. “I’m gonna do something a little different.” He plucks a string,adjusting it again one more time before he deems it okay. “I wrote something the other day. And I haven’t played it live before, so be nice.” He glances up and meets my eyes, like he knew where I was this whole time.
He smiles.
“I wrote it for my roommate,” he says into the microphone. “Who is very sexy and will remain anonymous tonight.” The crowd laughs. Someone calls outtell us who it isand Mike shakes his head with a grin, strumming his guitar. Unbothered.
Me, on the other hand?
Very much bothered.
Beside me, Ryan goes very still. But I can’t care about that when Mike starts to play.
