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“No worries. I’m glad you’re here.” He squeezes my shoulder before setting his half-drunk water glass down next to me and following the rest of his bandmates up onto the stage and, to my surprise, sliding behind the set of drums.

Mackenzie picks up his drumsticks, and like straight out of a music video, he hits them evenly with a one, two, three, four.

The band slips into their first song. Zee’s voice fills the bar, and although I’m about as far as you can get from a music critic, I can tell they’re good—really good.

My toe taps against my stool as the band moves seamlessly from one tune to the next. With every new song, the bar gets a little fuller.

Twice, I’m asked if I need the three empty chairs at my table. Both times, I panic and then contemplate if Zee’s groupie comment was a joke or if I should save seats for these other late-to-arrive groupies. When the third person asks about the empty chairs, I give up one and then spend the next song staring self-consciously at the other two as I debate the best way to sneak out unnoticed. However, whenever I scrounge up the courage to go, I somehow catch Mackenzie’s eye, and he gives me a smile.

At first, I think it’s the same one he uses to charm, well, everyone, apparently, but then something shifts. Maybe it’s that he holds my gaze a little longer or the way his lips curl up ever so slightly when our eyes lock, but I get the strange sense he likes having someone here just for him—and so I stay.

When the guy who took my spare chair has another friend show up, I know I’m seconds away from losing another seat. I pull out my phone to avoid him and see a text from Koko on my screen.

You home? I’m just closing up. We should grab a drink.

She sent it eight minutes ago. For a moment, I consider using Koko as my excuse to leave, then think: If she wants a drink, why not come here? It’s not too far from my apartment.

I text her back.

I’m at the Gladstone watching my roommate Mackenzie play. Join me?

A minute later, I get her reply.

Be there in 15

Twenty minutes later, she plops down beside me. “Wow. They sound great,” Koko says, shaking her shoulders to the music. “I do not remember Mac being that hot. However, I was very hungover when we met. And he wasn’t wearing the hat.”

She lets out a woo, raising her drink above her head. Zee looks over, winking at her as she takes the tiny cocktail straw between her lips and drinks.

“Uh, that isn’t Mackenzie,” I tell her as I put it together.

“It’s not?” She turns to look at me.

“No, he’s the one on drums.”

She tilts her head as if trying to get a better look. “Then why do I always see him carrying a guitar case?”

I shrug. “I actually thought the same thing and do not know the answer.”

We solve the mystery ten minutes later, as Zee announces they will slow it down for one more before they break.

Mackenzie gets out from behind the drums, grabs his guitar, and pulls up a stool next to Zee. The two of them begin to play. The song is slower tempoed than what they’ve played so far. The even strum of Zee’s guitar is a stark contrast to Mackenzie’s quick, melodic fingers. When Mackenzie’s baritone meets Zee’s honey tenor at the chorus, the resulting sound is hauntingly beautiful.

You said your name and I forgot mine

Like I’d dropped it at your feet

Every piece fell in line

Like it knew just who to meet.

“Ohhhh, I’m into this,” Koko says, tipping her head toward mine.

I am, too. And I’m almost sad when the final notes play, and Zee announces, “Okay, folks. We’re gonna take a little break. Don’t go too far.”

A techno mashup thrums through the speakers as they step off the stage. It sounds almost offensive in comparison to the moments before. So when Mackenzie slides into the seat next to me and asks, “So, what’d you think?” I’m not lying in the least when I answer, “You guys were incredible.”

Zee plops down next to Koko. Within seconds their heads are tipped together, Zee’s arm cradled around her backrest. Mackenzie introduces me to Benjamin, the bassist with the beard, and Rocco, the rhythm guitarist, who, upon closer inspection, is dressed head to toe in black leather.