So Two Years Ago
Seven
Chapter Seven:
I focused most of my efforts on keeping my breathing steady. And on not singing along with From Under the Cork Tree as I drove behind Andy’s car into Wilmette. It was a trying task, keeping my mouth shut with some of my favorite songs sounding from the speakers, but I managed. Honestly, it wouldn’t have mattered what was playing; I just didn’t want him to catch me in his rearview mirror, singing at the top of my lungs and dancing around like an idiot.
As we left the city further behind us, the streets became less congested. They were lined not with crowded sidewalks, of course, but with fine-looking homes, and shining cars that all looked like they’d just been washed sat parked in driveways and by the curb.
The finals chords of “Get Busy Living or Get Busy Dying” were fading when Andy stopped his car in front of a house and turned off the engine. I parked behind him.
As discreetly as I could, I checked my hair and makeup in my rearview mirror before stepping out of my car and smiling at Andy, who met me at the car’s front bumper to lead me up the sidewalk.
“You’re sure it’s ok that I came with you, right? I don’t want to intrude in a stranger’s house.” Despite my growing excitement, I could also feel my body tensing and my stomach doing tiny flip-flops. I hadn’t been nearly so anxious when I’d seen them all before at the show, but there’s certainly a distinction between saying hello to a band after their concert and hanging out in one of their homes.
“You’re not intruding. You’re here with me.” He rang the doorbell. “What are you so nervous about?”
Having to socially interact with my favorite band without making a fool of myself, duh. “I dunno. I guess I’m just awkward sometimes when I meet new people.”
He was preparing to respond when the front door was pulled open and a man was revealed on the other side.
“Since when do you ring the doorbell?” Peter gestured for us to come into his home.
“I like to pretend I have some manners when I’m around nice girls.”
We stepped inside while Pete smirked. “Aw, you think I’m a nice girl, Andy?” He chuckled at his own joke, though Andy and I did, as well, and continued. “Just kidding. Who’s our new friend?”
“Pete, this is Tessa Lane. Tessa, Pete Wentz.”
He and I shook hands and exchanged “Nice to meet you”s before the three of us entered further into the house and downstairs to the basement.
I could hear two other male voices as I descended the staircase behind Pete and Andy.
As I caught sight of them, Pete announced, “Alright, guys. We have to try to behave ourselves. We’ve got a new friend who we don’t want to scare off right away.”
Joe groaned from his seat on a sofa that sat against the wall to my left. “Aww, do we have to??”
“Yep,” Andy replied as the three of us reached the bottom of the stairs and approached the sofa on which Joe and Patrick sat. “At least for a little while. After that,” he turned to me. “I dunno if I can promise anything.”
I giggled, “I’ll try to put up with it as best I can.”
There were additional introductions and greetings, and the five of us made ourselves comfortable on the sofa and in chairs all surrounding a TV tuned to MTV2.
“So,” Patrick addressed me. “What are you doing here in Illinois?”
“I just graduated college this past spring, and I was offered a job with an independent film production company in Chicago. So, I took it, of course, and now I’m living in Glenview.”
“Nice,” he grinned at the mention of my new home.
“Tessa was at a show we played in Philadelphia two years ago,” Andy said excitedly.
“Really?” The three of them responded, almost in unison.
“Oh, yep,” I smiled, blushing a little, hoping they wouldn’t suspect me of being some crazy fan girl because of that.
“That’s cool. I like playing in Philly,” Pete said, matter-of-factly.
“I liked you playing in Philly too,” I giggled nervously, trying to hide just how stupid I thought that sounded. The four of them simply chuckled. “I actually spoke to you guys after the show. Not that you’d remember or anything.”
“Hey, I remembered,” Andy interjected.
“Ok, fine. Not that anyone without a strangely accurate memory would remember of anything.”
He began to smilingly argue back when I heard footsteps on the staircase.
One, two, three, four, I counted the people around me. Who else could that be?
I focused most of my efforts on keeping my breathing steady. And on not singing along with From Under the Cork Tree as I drove behind Andy’s car into Wilmette. It was a trying task, keeping my mouth shut with some of my favorite songs sounding from the speakers, but I managed. Honestly, it wouldn’t have mattered what was playing; I just didn’t want him to catch me in his rearview mirror, singing at the top of my lungs and dancing around like an idiot.
As we left the city further behind us, the streets became less congested. They were lined not with crowded sidewalks, of course, but with fine-looking homes, and shining cars that all looked like they’d just been washed sat parked in driveways and by the curb.
The finals chords of “Get Busy Living or Get Busy Dying” were fading when Andy stopped his car in front of a house and turned off the engine. I parked behind him.
As discreetly as I could, I checked my hair and makeup in my rearview mirror before stepping out of my car and smiling at Andy, who met me at the car’s front bumper to lead me up the sidewalk.
“You’re sure it’s ok that I came with you, right? I don’t want to intrude in a stranger’s house.” Despite my growing excitement, I could also feel my body tensing and my stomach doing tiny flip-flops. I hadn’t been nearly so anxious when I’d seen them all before at the show, but there’s certainly a distinction between saying hello to a band after their concert and hanging out in one of their homes.
“You’re not intruding. You’re here with me.” He rang the doorbell. “What are you so nervous about?”
Having to socially interact with my favorite band without making a fool of myself, duh. “I dunno. I guess I’m just awkward sometimes when I meet new people.”
He was preparing to respond when the front door was pulled open and a man was revealed on the other side.
“Since when do you ring the doorbell?” Peter gestured for us to come into his home.
“I like to pretend I have some manners when I’m around nice girls.”
We stepped inside while Pete smirked. “Aw, you think I’m a nice girl, Andy?” He chuckled at his own joke, though Andy and I did, as well, and continued. “Just kidding. Who’s our new friend?”
“Pete, this is Tessa Lane. Tessa, Pete Wentz.”
He and I shook hands and exchanged “Nice to meet you”s before the three of us entered further into the house and downstairs to the basement.
I could hear two other male voices as I descended the staircase behind Pete and Andy.
As I caught sight of them, Pete announced, “Alright, guys. We have to try to behave ourselves. We’ve got a new friend who we don’t want to scare off right away.”
Joe groaned from his seat on a sofa that sat against the wall to my left. “Aww, do we have to??”
“Yep,” Andy replied as the three of us reached the bottom of the stairs and approached the sofa on which Joe and Patrick sat. “At least for a little while. After that,” he turned to me. “I dunno if I can promise anything.”
I giggled, “I’ll try to put up with it as best I can.”
There were additional introductions and greetings, and the five of us made ourselves comfortable on the sofa and in chairs all surrounding a TV tuned to MTV2.
“So,” Patrick addressed me. “What are you doing here in Illinois?”
“I just graduated college this past spring, and I was offered a job with an independent film production company in Chicago. So, I took it, of course, and now I’m living in Glenview.”
“Nice,” he grinned at the mention of my new home.
“Tessa was at a show we played in Philadelphia two years ago,” Andy said excitedly.
“Really?” The three of them responded, almost in unison.
“Oh, yep,” I smiled, blushing a little, hoping they wouldn’t suspect me of being some crazy fan girl because of that.
“That’s cool. I like playing in Philly,” Pete said, matter-of-factly.
“I liked you playing in Philly too,” I giggled nervously, trying to hide just how stupid I thought that sounded. The four of them simply chuckled. “I actually spoke to you guys after the show. Not that you’d remember or anything.”
“Hey, I remembered,” Andy interjected.
“Ok, fine. Not that anyone without a strangely accurate memory would remember of anything.”
He began to smilingly argue back when I heard footsteps on the staircase.
One, two, three, four, I counted the people around me. Who else could that be?