In the Rearview

The crowd’s decent tonight. Not even that many people left after the opening band, so no doubt the guys will be happy about that.

I knock back the rest of my beer and wait for the set to start.

I haven’t been drinking for very long before I start to notice this kid staring at me from down the bar. It’s a little unnerving, but I don’t pay him much attention until after I’ve ordered a vodka cranberry.

“You’re really going at them tonight,” the bartender remarks, placing yet another glass in front of me. I slap down some bills on the counter with a few extra for his tip. Jeremy’s always been good to me.

“It’s my birthday,” I inform him, smiling slightly. I take a sip of the drink and consider ordering a shot while I’m at it.

“Yeah? How old are you now?” he asks, wiping up a small spill on the counter.

“Twenty-three,” I lie. He laughs and I give him a friendly scowl in response.

“Right,” he says. “And I’m the queen of Australia.” I roll my eyes at him, but he just winks and goes to attend to a more legal customer.

I glance back down the bar to that kid, who meets my eyes for a split second before they wander off in the direction of the stage.

Ten seconds is all it takes to dissect him.

Right off the bat, I can already tell he’s underage [like I am], so he must know one of the bands [like I do] to have been able to get in. Or maybe have a damn good fake, that’s how young he looks. His jeans are probably tighter than my skinniest pair, and he’s thinner than I could ever hope to be without taking up an eating disorder. His foot taps periodically to some imaginary beat in his head.

With that pseudo-emo haircut, he’s practically bleeding suburban teenage angst.

The lights dim and the band takes the stage before I complete my observation, and I go back to ignoring him completely.

The set’s over after half an hour, at which point I wait near the merch table. I watch people fawn over them as they try to leave the stage. I make idle small talk with their new merch girl meanwhile they eventually make their way over to me.

Pete smiles when he sees me, slinging an arm around my waist.

“How was it?” he immediately asks, before Andy, Joe, or Patrick have a chance to say anything.

“You were a little sloppy on the third song,” I inform him, digging my elbow into his side playfully.

“Are you hanging around? We’re all going to Chris’s for a party,” he asks, waving my comment away.

“You expect me to go all the fucking way to Wilmette with you?” I demand.

“Come on. It’s your birthday. I’ll drive you home in the morning,” he replies suggestively. He leans in to kiss me deeply on the mouth. I catch Andy and Patrick exchange a glance and roll their eyes just before I close mine, followed by the sound of over-exaggerated gagging coming from Joe.

When Pete pulls away and I open my eyes again, the odd suburb kid from the bar’s walking over to us. Staring at me.

I feel weird, but maybe that’s the numerous beers and drinks finally catching up to me.

“Oh yeah,” Pete says, glancing at him as he heads over to the group. “Elle, this is William.”

“Hey,” the guy nods in my general direction.

“He just moved to the city. He’s coming to the party,” Pete adds.

“Well, at least one of you came to your senses and got out of the suburbs,” I mildly remark, eyeing him dubiously.

“Hey, it’s not all bad,” Pete argues. I cross my arms.

“Name one good thing. And that your parents don’t charge you rent doesn’t count,” I add, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Funny,” Pete’s arm gives my waist a quick squeeze before the four of them go to finish packing up their equipment, leaving me with this William kid.

“So…you just moved here,” I state, more out of vague curiosity than anything else.

“Yeah,” he says, studying me silently.

Studying me for what, I don’t know.

But damned if I don’t get to see his expression when he realizes it’ll take more than ten seconds to figure me out.