The Chance (As Above #4)

Prologue

Mac

Seventeen years old

“I’ll give you fifty bucks.”

Shaking my head, my wild frizzy curls fall into my eyes. “Bro, no. These are easily worth two hundred .”

The jock who wants to take up drumming in his spare time shrugs. “You didn’t start there, and I have fifty.”

“Bullshit,” I murmur when Darius pulls out his wallet. “One fifty and we’ll call it even.”

His eyes roll, but he takes out three of the bills and practically throws them at me before collecting my snare drum in his arms and turning his back to me.

It hurts to watch it go. My stomach cramps.

Ma’s gonna be so pissed when she finds out I sold the gift.

But the cash in my hand now means that Rex and I can go to the concert tonight.

It’s our favorite band, and they’re playing for the first time on this side of the country, possibly for the last tour of their career.

We have to go.

It doesn’t take long to snag the tickets from another asshole who tries to haggle more cash out of me, even though these guys all know that Rex and I … we don’t come from much. Ma does her best, but feeding two mouths armed with attitude and too many hormones isn’t exactly easy. Money and new things just aren’t part of our reality.

Just like the thrift store shit hanging from my too-thin shoulders, featuring the very band we’re gonna see tonight. It’s got holes in the armpits and is so faded that the black has become a weird version of washed-out grey, but it’s still my favorite shirt.

“Rex!” I call as I bound across the field where my twin brother waits for me after school. His backpack is hiked up on his shoulder, the other strap completely gone, leaving frayed edges in its wake. It’s the most unkempt thing about my brother beside the curls that touch his chin. He somehow manages to make the rest of our second-hand wardrobe look presentable enough to keep a different girl on his arm every other week.

“Hey Macaroni. Anyone give you any shit today?”

I shrug. “Doesn’t matter.” I flop the tickets around in front of his face, my grin growing. “I got them!”

His blue-green eyes go wide, and he snags the paper from my grip. “Shut up.” Rex stares at the print on the fancy matte paper, his face falling when his eyes meet mine again. “You didn’t .”

I nod, my lips pressed into a thin line. “I … did. Drummy is gone, bro.”

My twin shakes his head, a curse falling from his lips when he looks back at the tickets in his possession. “But you loved that thing.”

Taking a deep breath, I try to shrug off the sludge of guilt working its way into my gut. “I’ve got the bass at school. It’s okay.”

Rex shakes his head, his eyes crest fallen as he hands the tickets back. “We’ll get you another one, Mac. I fucking promise.”

I believe him.

“It’s going to be worth it, bro.” I clear the lump from my throat and blink back the moisture that wants to collect in my eyes.

I did love Drummy.

Is it weird to miss an inanimate object with your whole heart?

“Then let’s go. I don’t wanna miss a single second of the show you sold your drum to get us into.”

We’re the first ones in the general admission line for the bar turned venue, armed with the fake ID’s Rex found for us a few months back, and I cannot contain the nerves vibrating me to my bones.

My thumb taps out the beat of the song playing over the shitty speakers as my twin talks up the ladies standing in line just behind us.

“You guys are twins ? That’s so crazy.”

I roll my eyes. It’s the same shit I hear all the fucking time from girls like this one, with her bleached out hair and her manicured nails.

At least it’s better than asking if we share .

People are so fucking weird when it comes to brothers born at the same time.

Even if she was my type, that’s a giant no thanks . My brother is fucking gross.

I, on the other hand, would prefer to have privacy and someone with the same junk as me.

Ya feel?

The first guy I ever had a crush on punched me in the nose during study hall. I wasn’t even trying to necessarily hit on him but in my defense, I was fourteen. Horny. With no clue what to do with my hands.

His hair just looked so damn soft.

He had sneered at me, called me all the derogatory names every gay man has already heard, and never talked to me in a nice way again.

It only took Rex threatening him once for him to leave me the fuck alone.

I’ve kept to myself for the most part since. Learning the hard way was enough for me to wait for them to come to me when they get curious about dick.

Everyone knows I’m the gay twin already anyway.

The rest of the time they steer clear and for a band geek that loves getting the D, that’s just fine with me.

“Keep it single file. Have those tickets and IDs ready!”

Oh, shit. Oh, fuck. This is it!

I bounce in place as I hand the two requested items to the man at the door with one hand and smack my twin’s back with the other.

The bouncer looks at me, then hands back the ID, keeping the ticket.

“Oh, hey,” I mutter as I pass just by him, my brother already offering up his entry requirements. “Can I keep that?”

He rips the paper in half and hands me one.

Inside, I cry a little but accept the torn paper as Rex pushes me ahead. “Here. He gave me the other half of mine.”

A half smile lifts my lips. “Thanks, bro.”

I stuff the two halves of the ticket in my worn-out pocket and weave my way around the people that are already packed into the small space.

VIP fuckers.

Rex grabs hold of my sleeve when I veer off to the side, the merch table catching my wide eyes.

Please be less than twenty bucks. Please be less. Pleasepleaseplease …

“ Fifty dollars for a shirt?” I screech to my brother whose brows bunch. “How the fuck is that?”

He sighs, the weight of being the poor kids turning his lips down. “What about that square thing? It says fifteen.”

Huffing, I step up to the cashier, my sights set on the thing Rex mentioned. “The bandana?”

I’m asking my brother, but the woman takes it as the order and walks away to grab one from the maze of boxes sitting open behind her. “Oh—”

“Just get it, Mac,” my brother says in that tone that’s on the verge of caregiver even though I’m the older one. “We can use the five for a water. We’ll share.”

“Goddammit, Rex.”

“I’ll pick up an extra shift next week and we’ll go to the arcade, okay? I’ll break into the claw machine if I have to to make sure you get something else. Since you did all this.”

I want to argue but I also really want the souvenir that the lady comes back with and hands over. Something that says I was here with my brother. A trophy of some kind to remember the moment by.

Grumbling, I wait for her to make our change, snagging the bills quickly when a deep bassy beat echoes across the venue.

I don’t wait to see if Rex follows me, I can feel that he is.

I just dive into the thick of the crowd, worming my way through hordes of already sweaty bodies as I wrap the bandana around my forehead like a band, tying it at the back of my head.

I’m gonna need my hands free for this one.

We make it to the front barricade at the center stage when the lights go down and that beat becomes the first song I ever fell in love with.

Fuck sex and screwing with dudes that don’t want more than a BJ in the back of the locker room. Fuck being poor and unable to afford the damn tickets or shirts to this place. Fuck the assholes who name call and think they’re better than me because their sexuality’s more common than mine.

None of that matters when the drum solo breaks out and the man behind the set sets this place on fucking fire .

I’m dancing before I know my body is moving, completely unbothered by who all I touch. Jumping when the vocalist growls to jump. Swaying with lifted hands when the songs demand it.

All the while, my brother and best friend is at my side, and in as deep as I am.

The grin that breaks open his face when I glance over at him is almost worth having to sell my drum just to see.

He never smiles like that.

Song after song, the band rocks the house, and I don’t think there’s a single moment that I stay still. It just feels right to move around, unbound by expectations of keeping your hands and arms in the ride of life until it’s socially acceptable to do otherwise.

Somewhere around the halfway point in the show, Rex disappears into the thick of the crowd and while I don’t mind, I’m forced to make sure crowd surfers don’t knock me the fuck out.

I came to have a great time, not get a boot to the face.

My sight trails one way, then back to the stage, and it’s that moment that I finally settle. Finally still.

Eyes sliding closed in the middle of the crowd, I experience the deep bass rattling inside my ribcage. I let the guitar riff flow through my veins like a lifeforce I didn’t know I was missing.

Chills race across my skin when I focus on the drumming behind it all, keeping time for each of the other members, tearing up the beat, becoming the foundation of each song.

“This is it,” I mumble to myself and let my eyes spring open, my chest filled to near bursting. “Nothing is better than this.”

My smile stretches my face so wide, it aches.

It’s a foreign feeling, the smile, but it’s one I never want to let go of.

“What a fuckin’ night!” The lead singer barks with guttural vocals into his mic. “We’re Clo, if you didn’t know. And this is our song, ‘Goodbye’.”

The place erupts in a boisterous noise that has a laugh bubbling up my throat.

Is it ever really goodbye, though?

I glance around, feeling eyes on me, only to land on a guy that looks like he’s about my age. He moves closer, and for a moment, I wonder if I know him from somewhere.

But then his gaze dips to my lips and I know .

He’s like me .

For the first time ever, I rake my gaze down his band tee clad chest, and when he makes it to my side, I don’t hesitate.

My hand finds the back of his neck and reels him in until our lips are crashing together, and his tongue begs for a taste.

Sighing, I kiss the man back, in public, with music filling my soul and cheers drowning out the lyrics.

And for the first time in my life, I feel free .