Dichotomy.

She’s been oddly silent all day.

Well…not to me specifically, because she doesn’t really talk to me, and I’m perfectly okay with that.

Really, I am.

“Didn’t they set you up on my right?” I ask her, confused.

“I like being on the left better,” she argues, the first words spoken in my general direction all day.

“But…” I start to argue back, but I don’t know why it’s bothering me.

“If you get to be in the center, why can’t I be on the left?” she points out stubbornly.

“Guys…” Spencer groans warningly in annoyance, from where his drumset is set up.

“You’re going to throw me completely off,” I retort childishly, ignoring him.

“I’ll throw you off something, all right…” she mutters, glaring daggers. I almost don’t hear her.

“As if you could,” I argue.

Why am I arguing?

I have no idea.

“You’re skinny enough,” she remarks, eyes running down my body and slim-fitted pants.

“Like what you see?” I grin cheesily, before I can help myself.

Her eyes snap up to meet mine before she rolls them in disgust and she turns to walk away.

Soundcheck…over.

“Hey, Bren?” she calls sweetly, over her shoulder.

I turn to look at her.

“You’re an ass.”

I blink.

The truth is…she’s right.

Spencer laughs.

She starts walking again.

“And I’m staying on the left!”

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

We sit in the dressing room, time inching by as we wait for it to be our turn.

She’s pacing the room anxiously, Spencer is wordlessly hitting his drum pad for practice, and I stare silently at the wall.

It was never like this when Jon and Ryan were here.

The first show of the night, and also our first show with Tina, begins in less than fifteen minutes.

I’d never admit it to anyone, but I’m afraid everything that can go wrong will.

Even though Tina’s taking over almost all the guitar parts, it still leaves me with the bass, piano, and anything else we might use.

And maybe I’m not so confident in her abilities just yet.

“Don’t mess up,” I find myself muttering snidely to her as she stops pacing to sit on the opposite end of the couch. She looks as if she’s about to be sick, so it’s my natural instinct to make things worse.

“Fuck you,” she replies cordially.

I laugh, enjoying the rise I can always manage to get out of her without really trying. Spencer doesn’t bother to intervene this time.

“You’re nervous,” I state.

The truth is-

So am I.

She glares.

My hands sweat.

I don’t know why I’m so nervous tonight.

It’s not that this is our first tour in a little less than a year, and it’s not that Jon and Ryan aren’t here anymore.

Usually, my nerves are under my control, and I can hide them from anyone and everyone easily.

The truth is, tonight is different, and not for the obvious reasons.

“Whatever,” she says coolly.

In the brief second that she catches my eyes, she understands.

She knows I’m as scared as she is, but she doesn’t say anything about it. Even though I completely deserve to be called out for it, she doesn’t throw it in my face like I already did to her.

“You’re on,” one of our techs informs us, handing Tina and I our instruments as we follow Spencer to the stage.

Then I’m talking into my microphone, I’m introducing Tina, and I’m singing, nervousness suddenly leaving as quickly as it appeared.

Everything goes by in flashes while my hands sweat and nobody except Tina notices.

And I’m thinking maybe I didn’t give her enough credit before, because she’s nailing all of mine and Ryan’s guitar parts like they’re nothing.

I look over at her while she plays, and, well, maybe I don’t have to hate her for about an hour every night.

That’s just about how long our set lasts.

She’s wearing this look I hardly ever see on her face.

She’s smiling.

I smile too, but all I can think is about how cheesy or fake it must look.

And I hate that she’s better at pretending than I am.