The Drew Code

“Yeah, Sampson is an official member of Emblem3; we’ve been thinking of changing our name to Emblem4.” Drew Chadwick’s laugh as he said this caused the interviewer and his band mates, Wes and Keaton, to laugh along with him.

“Tell us more about what it’s like being you guys,” the brunette interviewer, Anne, says, directing the microphone towards them. “I’ve heard that all of you boys are single; is this true?”

I knew the answer before they all simultaneously say “Yeah, it’s true.” But I noticed all of them share a knowing look with each other before Anne started with more questions about #bandlife and the tour itself. I zoned out for a few moments, wishing that I was right there with them, on the road, traveling to new places and having a blast. But sadly, I wasn’t. I was stuck with the aforementioned Sampson; the fluffy white ball of fur was curled up on the couch as I watched the latest E3 interview posted online.

The boys had told me to watch the interview for some sort of special surprise. I obliged, wondering what the hell they were talking about. As Anne droned on, asking them about their favourite songs to play live and preferences in girls (which earned a yawn from Sampson), I was beginning to think there actually wasn’t any surprise. Finally, near the end of the almost fifteen minute long interview, Drew winked at the camera and mouthed “Betty Blonde B.” I thought I was imagining it, so I rewound the video and concentrated on the blue-eyed flirt onscreen.

After a quick scan of the comments page, I knew that I hadn’t imagined it and leaned back into the couch cushions, absorbing what had just happened.

“Sneaky but well played, Chadwick,” I mused with a smile, scratching behind Sampson’s ears as I pressed pause and got up to stretch my legs.

It had been ages since I’d grilled him about the meaning behind the typo on their Nothing to Lose lyric book---“Betty Blomby” vs. “Betty Blonde B,” the latter being the correct term coined by the guys. I did distinctly recall Wes bursting into laughter when I first asked him, while Keaton had shrugged and said to ask Drew, not even bothering to spill the beans to me. I remembered what happened when I had asked him, the flashback pulling me into the past.

Drew was in bed, one arm propping his head up as he read a book; a worn paperback that he had been meaning to let me borrow when he finished re-reading it. He’d read it many times and I suggested he just read it aloud to me but he’d just grin and say he was almost done. I stood in the doorway, admiring how serene the sight before me was. He hadn’t fixed his hair, so it stuck up in some places like bedhead on steroids, and he was only in a pair of boxers. He hadn’t even picked up his guitar for a mini-jam session before his morning shower. That’s how early it was for him.

“Who’s Betty Blomby?” I asked calmly, slowly walking forward to sit on the edge of the bed.

One eyebrow rose, hesitant. “Babe, why are you asking?” He gestured towards the bed---my side, when I was over at his place---and I scooted over, turning onto my side so we were face to face, the paperback left behind on his bedside table.

“Betty Blomby. I tried asking Wes and Keats what that means and they won’t tell me. Hell, Wes laughed when the words left my mouth.” I knew the pout on my face bothered him as he leaned in for a quick kiss, which I denied as I placed my index finger on his lips. “No, you can’t kiss me until you explain. That’s the deal.”

Drew gently nipped the tip of my finger and chuckled. “Seriously? Alright, I’ll tell you. But there’s not much of a story to tell.” He ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it down, which was a futile effort because it sprung back up as soon as he did. “Betty Blonde B,” he emphasized, looking over his shoulder as Sampson walked by outside, “is a blonde babe that you see in Orange County. I saw a blonde babe in the OC and told Wes, ‘Yo, look at that Betty Blonde B’ and he just knew what I was talking about. So when you see a girl that you think is cute, sometimes you think she’s a Betty Blonde B. The lyric book had a typo when it was printed and they put Betty Blomby for some reason.” His sigh punctuated the silence in the room.

“That,” I said carefully, leaning close to his face, reaching forward to cup his scruffy cheek, “is the stupidest and sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.” Then I pulled away, turning away to face the other side, where a few rays of sunlight seeped in through the curtains drawn over the window. I closed my eyes and heard him shifting beside me.

“Charlie?” He had moved closer so we were almost spooning, his lips close to my ear. “I told you about Betty Blonde B and you’re going back to sleep? Really?”

“Mhmhmm. I came over because you said you were gonna make breakfast, and you were barely awake, reading in bed. Wake me up when you’re ready.” I pulled the covers up to form more of a cocoon around me, much to his dismay.

“I’m sorry, I really am,” he murmured into my shoulder, lightly kissing the bare skin that my sweatshirt left uncovered. “Don’t fall asleep. Don’t make me bring Sampson in here. Charlie. Charlie. Babe.” He groaned, the bed creaking as he stood up, giving up altogether.

I slept for almost two hours and by that time, Drew had showered and changed into basketball shorts, still sans shirt, and cooked breakfast. I knew it was a big deal for him to “cheat” on his diet for the long list of upcoming publicity photo shoots that awaited the band. That only made me even more appreciative as I eyed the lean turkey bacon, omelets, bagels and lox, and orange juice on the kitchen counter. He was biting into a bagel as I managed to put my hair in a quick topknot bun, sitting down on one of the stools lined up beside the spread.

“I wasn’t woken up by the smell of all this food,” I said, aghast as I bent down to ask Sampson if he knew that Drew was cooking breakfast while I slept.

Drew shrugged. “I closed the door so the smell or Sampson wouldn’t wake you up.”

“Sure, by all means, if I get to sleep then wake up to my amazing boyfriend cooking a meal for me, I will get used to it.” My gaze dropped down to where his lean hips were. “And without a shirt too? It’s a dream come true.”

He walked over, still taking bites out of the half-eaten bagel. I looped my arms around his neck as he leaned closer. I swiped the bagel out of his hand before his lips met mine and screamed as he lifted me off the stool, the blood rushing to my head as I was carried away. Sampson barked from behind us, sensing unrest and the fact that he hadn’t been fed any scraps of bacon. Drew dropped me onto the comforter, which was still somewhat warm from when he’d laid there, his body hovering over mine. I was laughing so hard that my stomach ached, and Drew tugged at the elastic band so my hair tumbled down in waves. It was tossed aside, and I tried to hold in my laughter as he pushed back his hair. He really needed to get that sorted out soon. But I was kind of diggin’ the semi-shaggy ‘do.

“We had a deal, sweetheart,” he informed me with a wink as I sat up, ready to kiss him. He gave in immediately. So much for holding anything against me.

“Drew, c’mon, the food is going to get cold,” I protested in between each kiss. There was a pattern going on: from sensual and slow to passionate and lingering. There was a good chance that I wasn’t in a hurry to get back to the kitchen. Sure, I was hungry; but which hunger was more important at the moment?

“Let it. One day, I’m going to surprise you and there will be this secret code that only you and I will understand. When that happens, you’ll know.” I knew better than to question Drew on this one, so I just nodded, ready for the inevitable. Breakfast could wait. I had other business to attend to at the moment.

Fast forward to today. It was a countdown of a little under two days until our boys got back from tour.

“I’m so glad you guys came over for a girls' night in. I know you wanted to go out but. . .well, Sampson tore up the beanbag chair last time and I had to replace it. Imagine if Drew came home to that, huh?” I rolled my eyes as I let Emma and Lily into the apartment. Emma had snacks for us and Lily had brought a bag of treats for Sampson, which caused him to jump up in an attempt to kiss her face profusely.

“Yeah, that would be something. He’d probably put in a new one that’s twice the size though.” Emma closed the door behind her, following us to the couch.

I turned on my laptop (damn Drew, insisting that a TV was unnecessary) and looked at each of them. “What’s been going on? Haven’t seen you two in a few days. I miss you both. So has Sampson.” As if on cue, the dog curled up comfortably in the space between Lily and Emma, prompting Emma to rub his tummy.

“Nothing much, just work and school. Turned down a few dates from some customers,” Emma said offhandedly. “I can’t believe those dorks won’t be back today like they were supposed to because of that junket.”

Lily snorted. “It’s not as if they actually want to watch the movie, but it’s all about publicity and that’s what they need since the album dropped and the second is in the works.” The youngest girl was usually the most soft-spoken of the group, but she did have moments where her patience wore thin and she let her irritation show.

“Lily, when was the last time Keats called you?” I asked, sensing there was more than she was letting on.

“Yesterday. But it was the shortest call ever. He couldn’t really talk because he was doing his vocal warm ups backstage.” We both gave her sympathetic looks. We were all in the same boat, and it was a letdown that our boyfriends wouldn’t be back when they’d originally planned.

This was one of the hardships of dating a musician. The waiting. It was enough to make even the calmest person go off the rails. I had moments of wondering what it’d be like to date someone who was a regular guy. Possibly in grad school, on his way to a normal nine to five and the American dream of the white picket fence and two point five kids. But of course that wasn’t the reality I chose for myself. I wanted a certain lumberjack of a musician that knew next to nothing about fashion and consulted his band mates about what to wear to each show. I wanted a certain guy who talked to me and anyone else who’d listen about the environment and the importance of forming bonds with other people. I wanted a certain goofball who insisted that my smile could stop wars. I wanted Drew Chadwick and the feeling was mutual. It was a done deal in my mind. No take backs.

“But we’re all going together to the airport right?” Emma said hopefully. “I volunteer to be the chauffeur on this mission. Operation: Free Emblem3.”

Lily and I nodded in agreement. We all chose a movie after that and settled into the cushions. Near the end of the movie, Lily was almost falling asleep but was woken up by her phone buzzing. The screen said it was a private number. She went outside to answer it. Five minutes afterward, Emma’s phone went off, and she stood up and speed walked to the bathroom to answer it. It was odd. Then, fifteen minutes later, my friends hadn’t returned and my phone vibrated.

“Hello?” I said, still sitting on the couch. Emma and Lily walked up to me at the same time, mouthing that they’d text me later. I was suspicious of what exactly was going on as they left, the door closing behind them.

Sampson’s ears perked up as I held the phone away from my ear to check the caller ID. It was a private number. “Uh, hello? Who is this?”

Then, I heard it. A very familiar voice singing me a song. It was if I could only focus on his voice and not what he was actually singing. I only heard him sing the phrase “Betty Blonde B” and that was enough to make tears form in my eyes. The code. I should’ve known that it wasn’t a fluke. Disappointment settled like a weight in my chest when I realized that this didn’t change anything. Drew and the guys wouldn’t be back until tomorrow. How the hell was I going to sleep soundly after hearing his voice? It was futile. All of it was one big mess.

“Hey, babe, are you alright? I hear you crying. I didn’t mean to make you cry.” Concern laced his words as I heard him put the guitar down.

“That was beautiful; you know I love it when you sing to me. It sucks though because you’re not here to sing with me.” I wiped away the tears and smiled. “But I’ll deal with it because you’ll be back tomorrow and then I won’t feel so shitty.”

“Are you sure about that?” I could hear the smile in his voice. “I told you to watch the video and that only you and I would understand it. . .”

“Just tell me whatever the hell it is, Drew,” I said flatly, both excited and annoyed by his nonchalance.

“Wes and Keaton were in on it, sort of. But they don’t know what I planned. So you’ll have to find out from Emma and Lily about what happened on that end. We all formed different ones, I hope.” He sighed. “Anyway, open the door.”

“You. . .did. . .not.”

I ran straight for the door, ignoring Sampson’s attempt to reach it before me. I threw it open and there stood Drew, his bags propped up by the wall as well as a huge box that was almost as tall as me. I think that was his box of fan mail and gifts, if I wasn’t mistaken. But this wasn’t the first thought that popped into my mind as I hugged him, reacquainting myself with his distinct scent and warmth. Happiness radiated from him as he kissed me and carried his stuff inside so he could greet Sampson. He cradled the dog in his arms then placed him on the couch, shutting the door behind him.

“You said there’d a surprise and let me tell ya something, this is a fucking awesome surprise.” I was giddy and so glad that I had Drew back that I sunk into the couch, hugging my knees to my chest. “I couldn’t be happier. I really don’t think it’s possible.”

“Are you sure about that?” Drew challenged. His hands were behind his back. That was suspicious.

“What are you playing at, sweetie?” I fired back, testing the waters.

As soon as I responded, Drew got down on one knee, prompting me to gasp in shock. What happened next made me burst into tears again. Because this wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be.

The small box in his hands was opened right away, revealing an intricately designed padlock of two hearts joined together with an engraving that said “D + C.” I was confused about what this meant, but tears welled up in my eyes just the same. Drew would explain what it was and then I’d cry anyway. Missing him had really taken a toll on me.

“Do you like it?” he asked, hesitant as he noticed how I was sniffling.

“I don’t know what it’s supposed to symbolize other than our first name initials being on it,” I admitted with a small smile.

Drew moved to sit beside me. He took my hand, picked up the padlock and dropped it in my palm. He traced the surface of it with his finger. “D+C. You already know the obvious reason why it says it. But we’re going to do this thing that I saw when we were on tour. This couple showed me a picture of when they went to Paris and put a padlock on a bridge. Everyone calls it Love Lock Bridge. It resonated with me. Since our anniversary is one of the most cliché ones ever, I decided to follow the theme accordingly.” He laughed, brushing away a stray tear that rolled down my cheek. “So that’s what we’re doing for our upcoming anniversary. Putting that lock there.”

My fingers closed around the lock. I felt as if it were a lifeline; another form of proof that we were both in this together. “And so I repeat. Just like Betty Blonde B, it is the stupidest and sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. Let’s do it.”

The smile that appeared on his face was enough for me to move in for another kiss.