My Mistake, So Predictable

I gulp thickly through my nervousness and run my fingers through my hair as my eyes scan over my scattered clothing with distaste. The excitement about going to a concert with Alex had faded quickly when I realized that I have nothing at all to wear. I’ve tried everything in my closet on at least once and everything either fits my awkward frame awfully, is too bloody hot for a concert, or just plain mind blowingly wrong. I have been to several concerts, yes, so I know what the general attire is, but I usually have Max and Tabby along for the ride with me. Not some extremely cute guy who I might be developing feelings for. Nope. The thought of the pulsing venue and closeness of the fans are the only things at top of my mind before a show, never what I am going to wear. Usually I just throw on something I don’t care if myself and several other bodies sweat buckets on and call it a night.

But right now? I’m on the verge of a breakdown. It is currently 2:20 and Alex is picking me up in forty minutes and the only thing I’ve managed to do is straighten my hair and put on a light amount of makeup. As I’m mentally debating whether to call Alex up or not to cancel with him, my ringtone announces an incoming call.

I dive across the room onto my bed and read the caller i.d. quickly, “Thank fuck.” I breathe gratefully, slamming my finger down on the green button and hearing Tabby’s ever chipper voice on the other end.

“Someone’s in a fantastic mood!” Tabitha comments with a loud laugh, hearing my heated curse word.

I groan in reply and run my fingers through my straight auburn hair, still slightly warm from where my straighter had roasted it. “I’m screwed.” I say bluntly, pacing in large circles across my dirty bedroom floor, “I never should have told him I’d go.

“Hailey, don’t you dare,” she says, her tone slipping quickly into disapproval. I can picture her frowning on the other end. “Alex is a good guy and does not deserve to be ditched at the last second.”

“I knoow.” I whine, pushing a large pile of clothes off of my bed and onto the already completely covered floor so I can flop backwards onto it. “I’m having a wardrobe crisis and if that’s foretelling how the night’s going to go, then I’m not really sure that I want to waste my time.”

Her deep sigh tells me she’s struggling to not lecture me and I turn to stare at the digital clock on my side table; only thirty more minutes until Alex is supposed to be here.
“What have you tried on?” She asks, the anger had disappeared and I’m relieved that instead, patience had returned to her voice. I loathe having her mad at me, especially in times of dire need.

“Everything.” I answer, chuckle humorlessly to myself. “But nothing seems looks right.”
“Did you check your t-shirt drawer?” Tabby asks curiously, slipping into fashion designer mode. She loves to dress me up, it’s one of her favorite things to do and one of my most dreaded. Plus it helps that she knows every single article of my clothing by heart; bless her.

But this time instead of complaining like I would usually do, I shoot out of my bed eagerly and dive over to the small dresser on my side of the room. “I completely forgot!” I admit in shock, digging through the deep drawer of t-shirts. My hand pulls up a soft, red shirt and I shrug, “Red Mickey Mouse v-neck?” I ask her holding my phone between my cheek and shoulder and moving to stand in front of the mirror so I can see how it looks.

“Perfect!” She announces, and I even over the phone I can tell that she’s smiling widely. “Now what about those ripped pair of dark jeans that you hacked to death in senior year?”
I rush over to my drawers again and find the jeans she had been talking about pushed underneath a dozen different pairs of jeans and yoga pants. How the hell did I forget I had these? Fucking score!

“Good.” She approves, “Now get dressed, run a brush through your hair again, and don’t forget to brush your teeth!” Tabby instructs and then makes sure I promise to have a good time before hanging up.

Only twenty more nauseating minutes to go.

----

The venue, although Alex had said the show wasn’t starting until six and it is only five, is fucking insanely packed. A line consisting of mostly teenage girls is snaked around the building and each one is bouncing on their toes and smiling widely as they slowly creep closer to being allowed in. I don’t mind standing in lines, especially if the band members come out beforehand to take pictures and what not; but luckily, Alex said he is close friends with the main acts lead singer so he was able to get us really good tickets for the show.

What the crap am I saying?

Really good tickets?

More like really fucktastingly fantastic tickets!

Somehow, clutched in my hand is a ticket and a V.I.P pass is slung around my neck. I can’t thank Alex enough and the last time I had told him how much I loved him for doing this he had shyly swung his hair in front of his eyes and cutely mumbled something about having to do something; which meant that he had left me wandering backstage by myself.

I don’t feel the least bit lonely though, I love this atmosphere. The thick, sweaty, loud concert scene is what I can relate to the most. It makes me feel like I’m home, which sounds weird but that’s the only way I can honestly describe it.

And even though I’m pretty far backstage, I can hear the opening band starting up and goofing off on stage loudly. It’s not a band I’m familiar with but they do sound pretty good so I might check them out after I’m done creeping backstage.

My eyes wander along the walls as I skip along the empty hallway, several doors are closed but I had already peeked into a few of them, much to my disappointment I had only found a few dusty folding chairs and forgotten instruments that were pushed up against the plainly painted walls. It is a slight let down that I hadn’t found a sexy band member crashed in one of the rooms to hang out with until I find Alex again, but hey. I’ve never been behind the scenes of a concert before so hot guitarist or not, it’s still flipping awesome!

Just as I’m gently easing another door open, my phone buzzes loudly against my thigh in my pocket and I pull it out after closing the door again, mysteries for another day.

“Opening act just finished and the second band’s on now, love.” The text from Alex read.

I grin and quickly write him a response about being there soon and slip my phone securely into the front pocket of my jeans. He writes back a moment later saying that he’ll find me in the audience and I make my way back to the main part of the concert. I know the second band that is supposed to be playing and I’m not that fond of them to be quite honest so I move slowly back through the hallways. Tabby had gotten free tickets off of a radio station concert once before and we had decided to go just for the heck of getting out of the house. But it had sucked. The lead singer is an asshole and his drummer was drunk the whole night, sloppily groping anything that had moved in front of him. It was grimy.

So before I make it to the crowd, I veer off down another hallway right before the stage and go get a drink, hoping that the band will have finished by the time I make it back.

Nothing exciting happens as I fetch a drink and soon I find myself pushing through the crowd to get as close to the stage as possible. I’m not sure how Alex is going to find me but he did text me while I was at the bar saying that he had made it to the front of the crowd and was as close to the stage as you could possibly go. Lucky ass. I have wickedly sharp elbows though so I cut through the younger kids, grinning as they curse and try to push me back. It’s a losing cause though, I have been at the front of every show that I’ve been to and I’m not giving up that title yet. So I quickly find myself pressed up against the barrier between the stage, the security guards, and the crowd at all sides of me; the perfect place to be at a show.

The second band finishes up with some half hearted applause from the bored crowd and I check my phone discreetly but no new texts from Alex and looking around I can’t find him either. Music starts to play then and I shove my phone into my pocket, careful to push it down far enough so it won’t fall out from jumping and being pushed up against other people.

“All Time Low, All Time Low.” The crowd screams as the lights start to flicker and change colors, bouncing off the crowd and the walls.

I furrow my brows as the chanted words start to sink in. The band’s name sounds awfully familiar but I can’t put my finger on it so I shake my head and forget about it for the moment, listening to the opening drum sequence. After a minute or so the curtain slowly raises and the bodies around me shriek with delight as the music rockets through the venue. It’s loud, so insanely loud and the crowd goes nuts for it, already starting to jump around and mouth the words to the song that they hadn’t even begun to sing yet.

But I don’t cheer with the rest of the roaring fan base. I don’t scream or shriek as the lyrics start to pour from the singer’s mouth and the guitar, drums, and bass kick in with wickedly loud sound.

Because honestly? It’s impossible to yell bloody anything when your jaw is resting on the floor.