Love in All the Wrong Places

NO. A million times no. I stared back at him in wide-eyed horror as I realized the gravity of what just happened. I just cheated on my boyfriend. With a guy I’d always thought of as my brother. This couldn’t be happening. Dave straightened up and just looked back at me, waiting for my response. I was completely speechless. I just had the greatest kiss I ever had, and it was with Dave. No way was this real. He was in love with Jessie. Jessie was in love with Dave. I was, to be honest, very close to being in love with Jake, if I could ever admit to myself how I truly felt about him. I continued to stare back at him, as I felt tears forming behind my eyes, threatening to make themselves known. Seeing as my reaction wasn’t what he was expecting, or maybe it was, he dropped his head, and shook it.

He looked back up with me, his glossy eyes pleading, and said, “I’m sorry C. Please don’t be mad at me. I can explain everything. I don’t know what came over me. Please don’t hate me. Just hear me out—“

He looked on the verge of tears himself. I knew I would forgive him. I always did. That was a given. But this, whatever the hell it was, pushed me completely over the edge. I just shook my head in disbelief, and chuckled darkly.

“You know what Dave, no. I can’t do this anymore. There’s just way too much shit going on in my life, and I don’t need this right now. I can’t handle all of this drama. Now this…whatever the hell this is between us, can’t happen. I’ve got to go.”

I put my headphones back in, blasted some AC/DC, and pushed past Dave. I couldn’t go back to Jake’s after what just happened, I couldn’t go back to my apartment, so I settled on walking around the city. How long was I going to walk? I had no clue. All I knew was that I needed time to myself, and now my only safe haven to escape my life, was permanently tainted.

***

I wandered around the city, praying to forget what happened earlier that afternoon. Much to my dismay, the thoughts only intensified. What sucked the most was I still tasted his sweet kiss on my lips hours later. I still felt his hand caressing my check. I still felt his soft hair between my fingers. I still felt the burning passion erupting from my stomach. Despite the foreign nature of this kiss shared with Dave, and as much as I hated to admit it, something about it felt so right. No. Why am I saying this? I hate Dave for doing this. I love Jake. I don’t love Dave. Not like that. Why did he have to go and screw around with my head after I already told him that I didn’t reciprocate the feelings? I’M IN LOVE WITH JAKE DAMMIT. Wait. I can finally admit it. This passionate kiss I shared with Dave only made me confirm what I had trouble admitting to myself the last few months: I love Jake. I felt the corners of my mouth begin to lift with this new realization, and now that I could finally admit this to myself, I wanted to shout it from the rooftops. I continued walking down the sidewalk, completely lost in my thoughts and music. Drowning my once sorrows with AC/DC, to now being in utter jubilation of my feelings for Jake. I wanted to tell Jake. I had to tell Jake. I paused my music and dialed his number. He didn’t answer. I looked up to see what street I was on, and realized that I subconsciously had made my way to Jake’s apartment after wandering around the city for the last couple hours. I laughed at myself, and made my way up to his room. Maybe my head knew my heart better than I thought.

I ran up the six flights of stairs quicker than I ever had before. I couldn’t erase this ridiculous grin off my face. I knocked on his door. No answer. I heard some music playing softly from the other side of the door, so I figured he couldn’t hear me. Remembering where he hid his spare key, I fished it from the loose board surrounding his doorframe. I open the door and blurt out, “I love you Jake!”

The smile that I so recently couldn’t get rid myself of, was quickly removed from my face as I saw in horror something I would never forget; a gorgeous blonde sporting nothing but one of Jake’s large t-shirts adorning her tiny frame, emerging from his bedroom. We instantly locked eyes and before she could say two words to me, I was out the door and running down the stairs. I was trapped. I figured I would try something new for once: run away.

***

I didn’t even go back to my apartment to pack anything. I was so through with everything and everyone around me right now. I couldn’t deal with everything that had taken place in this hellish day, and honestly just needed some time alone from everyone around me so I could process what had just happened. I hoped to gain some sort of perspective on what I should do to handle this situation. Unfortunately for me, the three people that I always relied on when I needed advice were strictly off-limits as they were the ones causing me this drama. As I continued meandering around the city, I stopped at the crosswalk waiting to cross as I realized who I could talk to. I heaved a deep sigh, and decided to go back home to Nashville for a few days to visit my parents. I hadn’t seen them in a few months, and a visit was long overdue. I’ve always been close to my parents, but since graduation, I had become less connected to them. The last news they had heard was when I started dating Jake about seven months ago. I know. I’m a terrible daughter.

The sign changed, and I crossed the street and made my way to the bus station. Thankfully in my outburst with Jessie earlier in the day, I had remembered to grab my purse, wallet, and keys. Now I could buy a bus ticket, and possibly some clothes if need-be. I went up to the ticket booth at the front of the building and bought my ticket to Nashville. Truth be told, I missed Music City. It had been my home my entire life until I moved for college. I grew to love the Windy City, but to me, it never held a candle to Nashville. There’s something so magical about that small city, and I wasn’t sure if it was the fact that it was every music lover’s haven because it was so doused in music, or not. I wagered to believe it was. I missed driving around Broadway and surrounding blocks at night when the city came to life, with my windows down, and just listen to all the music coming from the various bars and dives in the heart of downtown. I lived for those nights. As I sat on a bench waiting for my bus to be called, I began to wonder why I ever decided to leave Nashville. The city is a part of me. I feel like I’ve been missing that part of myself these last few years. Needless to say, I was anticipating my trip home a bit more than I initially thought.

As I sat drowned in my nostalgia of Nashville, I heard my bus being called. I looked at my watch and saw that it was now 10pm, meaning that I couldn’t expect to get home, well downtown at least, until at least 7am. I had a long night ahead of me. I decided I would sleep on the bus, and would try to find a place to stay once I got there. I got up, and made my way to my bus, ready to begin my adventure back home. As I walked to the steps to enter the bus, I stopped momentarily and looked behind me at the crowd of bustling people. I scanned the crowd, not exactly sure of who or what I was looking for, but I swear I saw Dave standing on the other side of the lot staring right at me. I shook it off, chalked it up to paranoia, and loaded the bus. I grabbed a seat in the back and looked back at the crowd that I had observed just moments prior. Any trace of Dave that I thought I saw were gone, so I dismissed what I thought I saw before, and leaned my head against the window. I pulled out my phone and headphones, put them in my ears, and listened to the sounds of A Rocket to the Moon. Due to circumstances being what they were, I figured the best song of theirs to start off with was “Lost and Found”. One lyric in particular seeming to fit my life best at this moment in time: “You need to get lost before you get found.” I shifted in my seat to get comfortable, and drifted off to sleep to the sounds of Nick Santino serenading me to sleep with his soothing voice.

***

I woke up to an elderly woman shaking my left shoulder, and to the sound of loud intro to “Give a Damn”. I woke up startled and stared at her questioningly. I removed my headphones and turned off my music in my sleepy stupor trying to figure out where I was. She smiled knowingly at me and gently said that we had arrived in Nashville. For a moment, I was wondering how I had arrived in Nashville, when all the events from yesterday came flooding back to my memory. It wasn’t a dream to my dismay. I nodded, and smiled weakly at her as I proceeded to grab my purse and drape it over my head and shoulder as I made my way off the bus. Still in a sleepy state, it took a few moments to realize where exactly I was. I saw that I was around the Madison area, and I wanted to grab food, so I hailed a cab after unloading the bus and made my way to the Loveless Café for a proper Nashville breakfast.

It was a long drive just for a breakfast, but was so worth the drive. Nothing screams comfort food like homemade biscuits, homemade jams, hash brown casserole, and a side of ham. Carb central, but I didn’t care. I hadn’t had my southern comfort food since I left home years ago. The only times I had ever come home to visit since I left for college was holidays. Often times, we went out to eat at chain restaurants then, so no true southern style cooking that I was accustomed to as a child. After sufficiently stuffing my face with food, I looked at my phone to see that firstly, it was almost dead, and secondly, it was about 9:30am. I also noticed that I had multiple notifications on my phone, but I ignored them all, turning my phone on airplane mode to not only attempt to drop the hint to those contacting me that I didn’t want to be bothered, as well as making a small attempt at saving my phone battery for as long as possible. I sighed as I tried to figure out what to do for the day. I knew both my parents were at work, so it would be at least 6pm tonight before I could see them. I decided to wander around downtown until I needed to head back the house.

I spent most of my day where I had missed the most: the heart of Music City around the Broadway area. This time of day it was lively, but not as much as it was at night. There were still artists standing on the sidewalks outside the bars playing music, hoping to make it big. Part of what I loved so much about this city is how talented all these artists were. I could honestly see myself paying money to buy their music. Some of it was original; some of it was beloved cover songs. Regardless, these musicians had something to prove and stopped at nothing to make their dream of making it big happen.

One guy in particular sparked my interest. He was outside a bar at the end of the block at the corner. He wasn’t singing, but just strumming his guitar. He wasn’t standing and serenading people as they passed like most of the musicians, but rather sat against the crosswalk sign pole playing more to himself than to anyone else. I walked over to him and just stood and watched. Also unlike other musicians here, he didn’t have his guitar case opened, ready to receive whatever tips the locals decided to leave him for his talent. Instead, he didn’t have any sort of case or container to collect tips. It was as if he was simply there for the experience of constantly performing to an ever-changing audience in hopes of catching someone’s attention. I stood by his side for a solid ten minutes, immersed in his playing, before he happened to look up and notice me standing there. He was taken aback by my presence; surprised that anyone stopped to listen to him. Actually, I felt as if I was intruding in his performing space based on his reaction, rather than him being surprised that someone came to listen to him. When he saw me, he instantly straightened up from his slouched sitting position, grabbed his guitar in his right hand, and proceeded to stand up.

Once he got up, he avoided eye contact, and began brushing his left hand against his jean-clad legs to dust the dirt off his hand. He moved his guitar to his left hand and stuck his right hand out to shake my hand and introduce himself.

“Hey there pretty lady, I’m Travis” he said with a slightly nervous chuckle and a deep southern twang.

I smiled in response, shook his hand and said, “Hey, I’m Christy.”