Your Biggest Fan

54. ROXANNE

Chapter fifty-four

What. The actual. Fuck.

I think my body got shocked from a faulty amp. My brain may have exploded, too.

Heart attack.

Lungs collapsed.

An absolute system wide shutdown of every biological imperative. Like the laws of reality itself got upended and I realized my whole life was one big movie.

Maybe I’m dead. That would explain it.

There is no way in hell Noah had just stripped himself like that on stage, publicly serenading me for all eyes to see. Everything was aimed directly at the gaping wound where my heart keeps beating his name and it took me back to long nights spent curled together under the stars in the snow, his bumpy fingertips tracing up my calf—back when I thought what we had might last forever.

I’ve been positive we would never speak to each other again, let alone have him fight to win me back so… bravely.

Yeah, I have definitely slipped into some bizarro alternate dimension tonight.

As my neurons slowly grind back into gear, and the last ten minutes rewind on warp speed, my emotions finally catch up. All mostly consisting of nostalgia so thick it chokes me, stupid enduring love burrowing through my ribs all over again. Why now, after five months of silence?

Was this a stunt to distract me before the battle, to try to tip the odds in his band’s favor? Or did he actually mean every tender lyric he’d sang into that microphone?

I have no idea what to think anymore.

“Pst, Roxy!” Stephanie elbows me roughly. “We gotta get on stage now!”

Fuck . I guess I won’t have much more time to process anything because I’d forgotten the most important part of tonight. I still have to perform in front of the whole world.

With Noah’s performance, we don’t stand a fucking chance at winning this battle anymore.

It was Hot For Teacher all over again.

As we head to the stage, two things are clear:

1. Noah and I need to have a long chat about all of this.

2. Knowing him, he has something else he’s plotting before this night ends. God help me because I always want to see what he’d do next.

Iron Fillings clears the stage, all of them hopping on top of each other as they tumble down the stairs like a rowdy litter of puppies, and the MC returns to work over the crowd as he introduces us, though we have no name.

The name ‘Roxanne’ felt like it said enough.

I pump myself up, thinking of Patrick Swayze with his shirt off, the feeling of my dad’s wishbone carving, the first taste of strawberry icing underneath a perfect layer of sprinkles, as we squeeze through the crowd and toward the spotlight I usually avoided at all costs.

I want to have no problem showing everyone who I am in song, owning my loneliness and independence like a badge of honor. If Noah can openly sing-vomit his feelings tonight, then dammit so can I! The lyrics I’d chosen may as well be ripped from the pages of my diary anyway.

The exposure may terrify me, but there’s surprisingly a hit of the purest adrenaline mainlined straight into my veins when I think about surprising everyone and shedding my skin.

I only wish we had an electric guitar to properly accompany the song, but Stephanie on acoustic is all we could suffice. I’m sure it will deduct a point, or however the hell the judges are scoring this, but it doesn’t matter to me because I want this song.

Unfortunately for me, my nerves rise and rise and rise with each step I take that gets me closer to the top of the stairs. We’re talking about a full on cat with its fur on end freakout.

Veering into panic, I remind myself that yes, I have performed countless times for shows, in private, or in front of friends. But this is still my first public performance singing lead vocals. What the hell was I thinking?! I don’t even have real bandmates, just friends I strong-armed into helping me.

There might still be time to fake my own death, or pretend I’m going into labor. Would they buy that excuse?

Steph’s unplugged acoustic strings as she moves up the stairs echo in the quiet, and I take a deep breath to move up that final step. It’s going to be fine.

What if I completely eat shit out there? What if the judges eviscerate me for my voice? What if I get stage fright the moment those spotlights hit me and I break down and cry like that one girl in my oral communications class?

“You’re on in thirty seconds,” someone shouts over the silent crowd.

Welp . Nothing left now but to puke on my boots and power through.

The vomit is already percolating in my stomach, ready to hurl the donut and fries I had for lunch. My skin is vibrating, my heart is beating in my armpits, and there’s already a cold sweat building up underneath my hair.

My hands are shaking as I grab the microphone stand and set it next to the drums, adjusting it to the correct height so I can sit and sing. The lights above me morph into a blinding white sun, the crowd fading to mute even as Stephanie starts tuning her acoustic guitar to the right of me, the one she bought when we were thirteen and dreaming of being the next Heart.

I settle onto the throne behind the kit, hands still trembling as I pull my drumsticks from my socks. I force myself to suck in three deep breaths— in, out, in again —knowing I’m seconds from potentially fainting up here.

Glancing over, I meet Stephanie’s warm hazel gaze where she perches on a duct taped leather stool, guitar resting on her knee as someone coughs in the crowd. She shoots me an encouraging nod and a grin that instantly steadies my nerves, reminding me of all the hours we’ve spent practicing exactly for this moment.

My best friend and partner in crime since our Gremlins phase. We’re prepared for this.

I tip my face up to the rack of stage lights overhead, eyes falling shut against the glare searing shapes into my eyeballs. Behind my lids, I picture my dad’s happy green eyes, his thick mustache over his smile, the dimples on each side. All the things I inherited from him. Well, except for the mustache.

Help me out here, Dad. I could use a boost right about now.

I imagine him winking down at me, his deep laugh blasting through the microphone.

“You got this, Wishbone. Knock ’em dead, kid. But try not to actually kill anyone.”

A small smile slides across my face as I grasp the drumsticks tighter. Leave it to him and his brand of pep talks even from beyond the grave.

Something clicks. Or snaps. Or—I don’t know. Something as close to a mirror cracking under the weight of a thousand curses is a better way to describe it. But you know what? I feel ready to smash some skins now because I am Roxanne fucking Wishmore. Fighter. Nightmare. Revenant. A snake outgrowing its too-tight skin

My goal isn’t petty revenge to get even anymore. It’s more than getting back at people for the way they’ve wronged me.

I'm here to rise from the grave I've been buried in.

I squeeze the drumsticks, my hands tingling now. I inhale deeply, resisting every part of my body that wants to sweep the crowd to see where those blue eyes are and if they’re watching.

You own this stage tonight.

Tonight, I’m unshakeable, undeniable, and unfuckwithable.

My stage. My moment. My rules.

Meeting Daniel on my left, where his bass pedal is set up ingeniously on his skateboard, we both exchange quick nods that say we’re ready to rock, then I turn to Stephanie, nodding for her to start us out.

She beams back at me from her stool, fingers starting to pluck at the strings in an opening twang of The Night by Heart. I press my foot on the hi-hat pedal, clicking my sticks against the cymbal, starting to tap out harder and softer and back and forth, then lose myself to the propulsive rhythm as Stephanie’s acoustic fills up the stage.

While keeping the beat steady, I lean into the mic and unleash.

At first, I hesitate, my heart pounding so hard I’m not sure how my voice is able to get out of my constricted throat. When I notice no one is booing us off the stage I start to feel less shy. I start to feel the power in my muscles as I punch my foot down on the pedal harder with each word, a call to arms for all the misfits and outcasts and broken, beautiful souls in the audience tonight.

This is for them, for us, for every kid who ever felt like they didn’t belong, like they were too weird or too wild or too fucking angry to fit into the neat little boxes society tries to shove us into.

I stop resisting the terrifying pull of the crowd, singing with all my goddamn might, determined to reach all the way to the skeevy guy smoking by the front door.

That’s when I spot him.

It’s hard to miss Noah’s freakishly tall six foot self, arms crossed over his chest as he watches me intently from the middle center of the crowd with those bedroom eyes. His grin looks like he’s really— really —entertained.

Before I can overanalyze, my eyes flick down to his lips as I sing, and he mouths very familiar words that I think I can hear carried up through the bass amp: “Are you fired up?”

I almost fumble the next beat, forgetting I’m on stage and not singing only to Noah.

Is he actually flirting with me right now? Did he really think he could sing that song, watch me perform, and then waltz back in after months of silence and everything would go back to normal?

He starts bobbing his head, cups his hands around his mouth, whoops really loud, then starts clapping his hands up in the air, rallying the audience to join in.

… Shit.

Who am I kidding? It’s already working, the bastard.

Blinking hard as warmth races up my neck, I tear my stare away, refocusing on my friends as my pulse starts to match the speed of the song. The lyrics fly out from my lips on autopilot, my thoughts and feelings turning the song into something downright snarling with the kind of lust that borders on violence.

The muscles in my arms start burning, but damn, it feels good to push through the lactic acid building in my biceps after months of feeling numb inside. I let it fill up all the empty spaces inside of me until there’s no room left for doubt or fear or regret. I am a conduit for the sound, a vessel for the fury and the passion and the wild, untamed energy of rock.

The vibration from my sticks bounces up my arm from how fast I’m moving around the kit to keep up with Stephanie as the song builds. At this point, it’s second nature and the sticks are an extension of my hands. I’m hardly aware of Daniel laying down a steady beat to keep our music grounded because while lost in the rhythm under the bright stage lights, I let go and give in to something bigger than myself.

I surrender to the music—body and soul.

Once we hit the chorus, that anthemic rallying cry that speaks to the rebel in all of us, there’s a split second of crazy musical connection, where I forget the mess waiting for me outside this. The pain from my mom, my unknown future, the boy with the wolf’s eyes who wants to tear my world apart again… I push it all away.

I slam the sticks, pound my tireless feet on pedals, and let my voice go raw from shouting truths I usually hide away from everyone. Every word, every note is me. I become the music, melding with it until we’re one entity and I can’t tell where it ends and I begin. This is my truth, my unvarnished reality as a creature born from storms, isolation, and a thousand lonely midnights, with a fucking longing to break free.

The truth that I’ve spent so long depending on myself, sharpening my strength to survive in this tough world. And it feels goddamn freeing to be heard.

Taking a quick, deep breath that tastes like smoke, I flip damp hair off my face, feeling the sticky trickle of sweat drip between my breasts before driving my hands and feet back into the rhythm. My calf is on fire in the best way possible as I scan the crowd again, kind of disappointed that I don’t see those blue eyes watching over me.

Did Noah really leave? It’s hard to believe he would bail when he’s the one who pushed me to sing so loud and proud.

I tilt my lips back to the mic, my voice turning deeper, grittier as I spot Angela and Tyler at the edge of the stage, wasted and dancing with their cups held up high for me. Angie grins, gesturing to my cleavage with an enthusiastic thumbs-up.

I shake my head, pushing down the feeling of affection that gave me. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. I wanted to feel that proud adoration shining in someone’s eyes as they watched their once shy friend finally come into her own for the first time ever.

Who needs anything when I have a Fan Club cheering their hearts out for me?

Caught up in my high, I roar out the chorus again as the crowd starts jumping with fists in the air. They actually like it. Like, really fucking like it.

My cheeks are straining against my grin, but I know my high’s about to come crashing down any second now. The part of the song I’ve been dreading is coming up fast, and I can only hope those hands stay up in the air with us when there’s no electric solo to carry us through.

I gulp down quick breaths of air, fighting to keep my voice from cracking as I power through, my lungs burning with the effort. All these happy faces are about to watch me struggle to fill the dead air.

While I’m bracing myself for total humiliation... it happens.

This electric guitar screams out from nowhere, shredding the skin off every one’s damn face with those opening licks. I somehow don't choke on a wad of spit as I whip my head around to find the unholy sound, squinting against the glare of spotlights.

Stepping out of the shadow on the left side of the stage is a tall figure raining hellfire across the fretboards, playing the most insane power chords I’ve ever heard coming from those amps.

The whole crowd starts slamming into each other at the solo, and I dart my eyes to Stephanie, whose baffled glance tells me that she didn’t orchestrate this surprise guitarist. Judging by Daniel’s eyes, he didn’t either.

Who the hell is saving us right now?

The figure steps fully into the light, and my heart stops dead in my chest as Noah walks up beside Daniel with a green guitar in hand, meeting my gaze with his tongue caught between his lips as he plays, never missing a note. His fingers keep moving up the neck of the guitar, black rings sparkling underneath the lights, and I have to catch my breath when his fingers bend the strings into a filthy whammy.

I don’t have time to acknowledge the heat pooling in my belly when a flash of black hair at stage right signals Eden’s equally dramatic entrance. Her Gibson is already crying out the next part of the solo, red lips pulled back in a grin as she points the neck of her guitar toward Noah, daring him to take up the next part.

He shakes back his sweaty curls, licking his lips as his blue stare clashes with mine, and those fingers start flying. I almost moan into the mic, my blood rushing to places it has no business going in the middle of a performance.

Jesus, he is not playing fair tonight.

All the girls in the crowd are screaming, wishing they were the guitar strapped around him, but I’m not listening to what he’s playing anymore. I’m looking at how the sound flows against his fingers, the way the tendons in his wrist and the muscles in his hands work together to produce it.

Noah and Eden keep trading off, pointing their guitar necks at each other like gunslingers, feeding off one another’s riffs, taking the climax higher and higher along with my racing heart. It’s a ping-pong match, but their guitars are paddles and the music is the ball moving between them.

Annoyance starts to make me shake that my spotlight is being undermined. I worked so hard to get myself up here tonight, and I didn’t want these two swooping in, even if the song would’ve been dead without them.

I’m pissed, dammit!

Except when I glance up to see the way Noah and Eden keep throwing themselves into the guitar battle, staying up on stage with big smiles lighting their pink faces, something else replaces the feeling entirely.

Being up here isn’t about me or my ego or even Noah. It’s about looking out for each other and supporting us to build something even greater together than anything we could ever achieve on our own.

We are all mismatched pieces of the same messed up musical family, fitting together in ways that shouldn’t make sense but somehow do. I’d forgotten how important Noah’s stage presence and Eden’s strings are to turning my drum beats into real art.

We always did make damn good music together. On stage and off. We balance each other.

It’s gratitude that makes my chest heave and my eyes sting as Noah turns to his side, and meets me from over his shoulder. His expression softens into something that looks a hell of a lot like respect.

Respect as those long pianist fingers move quickly across steel strings. Eden winks at me from beside Stephanie, her short hair flying as she plays so freely, even leaning in to bump hips with Steph and hype her up.

In this messy, crazy collaboration, we were whole again. And I feel so fucking loved.

My smile turns to joy as we crash toward the final crescendo all together, with no brakes and no fucks left to give. I channel everything I have left into the drums, sweat dripping around the curve of my arm as I pour all that restless energy, all that hate and hurt I’d been holding onto, into my sticks for the last time. The thundering pedal under my feet reverberates through my very bones, electrifying my spirit and about to send me off to fucking space.

With one last fill, I bring the cymbals crashing down, unleashing a primal scream from my damn soul as the guitars fade to silence.

Breathing hard, my endorphin flooded body shines with sweat as every muscle quivers, and I shoot up from the stool to fling both my arms skyward.

The great gush of applause fades to black as I glance up at the glaring stage lights, tears stinging my eyes while whispering two words in my heart:

Thanks, Dad.

My entire body feels as if I’ve clawed my way out of a watery grave, lungs screaming for air after barely keeping my head above the surface for the last few years. I gasp and choke on the humid air as the adrenaline high starts to crash, leaving me damp and wobbly.

Stephanie’s pink nails clutch onto my elbow, and it’s the only thing keeping my legs from giving out entirely. Daniel, still riding the high, shoves another water bottle into my hands. I guzzle it down, drops dribbling down my chin and onto my still heaving chest.

The three of us hang back at the edge of the crowd, having retreated from the stage the second the last guitar note of Stephanie’s faded. We’re all wiped out. Even Steph’s makeup melted under the baking stage lights, mascara smudged under her eyes. I certainly don’t want to know how bad my makeup looks.

I’m not sure where Noah went. He and Eden bolted before I could look back down from the ceiling. They’re probably getting whipped with chains from their actual band.

“So,” Stephanie ventures with a big sigh. “Am I going to be the first one to say that was fucking INSANE?!”

I gape at her dropping the F-bomb for probably the first time in her eighteen years. Even Daniel lets out a distinctly girly squeal beside me, jumping up and down in his sweaty t-shirt.

“That shit was fucking amazing,” he hyperventilates, shaking out his shirt. “That was all you girls. I just channeled cosmic vibrations from my bass to ground you queens.”

He prattles on about auras and harmony until Stephanie and I lock eyes, a single shared brain cell ping-ponging between us, and we promptly lose it. Laughter bursts out of all of our raw throats, doubling over and gripping on to each other, sweaty and spent until a tear runs down my cheek.

God, that really was amazing. I feel amazing.

Our giggle fit is cut when someone violently shushes us from somewhere in the crowd.

Biting our lips, we whisper apologies to the glaring people around us as we dab at each other’s leaking mascara with our thumbs.

The ambient lights dim abruptly, leaving only the small stage washed in bright whites and blues. The bar owner lumbers up the steps, the spotlight shining on his large bald head as he adjusts the mic stand with a piece of paper in his hand.

A piece of paper that has the power to change my fucking life.

My breath catches as I spot Noah near the front of the stage, surrounded by his bandmates, and I feel the weight of him searching me out in the darkness. His face is hidden by shadows, but I know it’s him from the height and the shape of a curl in front of his eye.

When the owner taps at the microphone, I grab Daniel’s wet hand so tight our bones grind together, and Stephanie latches onto my arm with both of hers.

This is it. This is what I’ve been kicking my ass for all damn year.

Please, god, let it be worth it.

My stomach starts to twist up, only partially from post-performance nausea. After all of the different sounds and souls on that stage, I’m not sure who will win.

Breathe . I have to believe we’ve done enough.

Stephanie’s nails are digging marks into my skin, Danny’s vibrating with a fat grin, and my empty water bottle cracks in my death grip. I’m dreaming hard. In my head, I’m already up on that stage, snatching that envelope full of cash like it’s my fucking birthright. The spotlight will turn me into a goddamn metal queen as I wink at Iron Fillings’ shocked face in the crowd. Then I’ll storm out that front door, cradling the money to my chest.

My hair will be whipping in the humid night air in slow-mo as fans (okay, maybe it's only Daniel and Steph in my fantasy) scream my name.

We Are the Champions will start playing, and I’ll throw my envelope skyward, blue neon venue sign and moon bathing me in a celestial light…

My daydream pops as the stage goes black. A single spotlight remains on the owner as he slices open the envelope with a thumb, and I swear to god, time drags on so slowly as I drop my water bottle down to the ground to clutch onto both my friends.

Come on, come on.

A hush falls over the crowd as the owner clears his throat.

Please, please, please…

“Well, after much deliberation, the winning band tonight, the one taking home this coveted recording package and cold hard cash is…” He trails off, a cheesy drum roll sounding from the speakers. The crowd leans forward as one, all of us holding our breath. “Give it up for… Iron Fillings!”

My hopes dash violently against the floor.

I open my eyes to the crowd cheering and drinks spilling in the air, but it’s not for us.

It’s for them. It’s always for them.

The fantasy of my imagined victory march melts instantly like a needle sliding off a record, a coldness coating my skin even as Noah’s band erupts into victorious shouts.

I lost to them. Again .

Through the ringing in my ears, I can make out the owner praising our own band’s talent and commitment. His consolations don’t mean anything over the raging bonfire of humiliation consuming me from the inside out, a screaming tea kettle whistle drilling into my skull. I plaster on a smile, but it’s only for my friends.

Inside, I’m dying, but I don’t want them to know it yet.

And now I have to watch as Noah and everyone with him walk back onstage for the presentation. He looks around the crowd before finding me with an unreadable expression on his face, but the lights magnify all around them and all I can see is white.

I gulp a shaky lungful of air, forcing my features into that ‘bitch face’ look I’d mastered months ago while trying not to shatter on the fucking spot.

Steph’s nails are digging into my arm, and Dan’s gone all stiff and silent beside me. Hot, stinging tears are building up behind my lashes, and I turn around to escape the salt in my wounds. I need to get out of here.

All those beautiful things I felt on stage not long ago are gone, popped cruelly like a soap bubble. Nothing but another silly fantasy after all.

Well, back to Plan B then. Working full time selling albums to bored suburbanites until I save enough to ditch this town at last.

“I’m so sorry, Rox,” Steph’s gentle voice drags me back from the brink. “I’m so, so sorry, babe. You crushed it up there—we all did! We came so damn close.”

I don’t respond, my throat too clogged to trust my voice yet.

“You don’t have to say anything, okay?” she soothes, slipping an arm around my waist. “We can be mad together. But… hey at least you finally conquered your worst fear up there, right? You should feel so proud! You were a total badass!”

I wave her off, ignoring the congratulations and condolences thrown our way. “It’s fine, Steph. Let’s get out of here.”

All that matters is getting away from this place and these people staring at us.

Everything tingles with anger, from my toes up to the tops of my burning ears. Daniel joins Steph in the side hug, all of us slippery from the sweat on us, and his usual mile-a-minute chatter takes on a protective tone about how killer we sounded, how special this was despite the result.

My game face finally crumples, and Steph and Danny squeeze me tighter, murmuring more nice things about open mics and not giving up. I tune it out, bottling away the hurt cotton candy inside until it finally dissolves. Coming in second place tastes like ash, though my friends salvaged it somewhat.

“Dude, we were killer up there! Like, transcendent and shit!”

I give a tiny robotic nod as Daniel leads us toward the exit, ten thousand percent emotionally drained to really offer more. This fucking sucks.

He’s right, of course—we did kick all kinds of ass up there.

We did leave it all on that stage tonight. We were all unstoppable, fearless, and I was doing what I think I was put on this planet to do. I said my piece to this town, and I got to show them what I can do. I left it all out there, bleeding and raw and so fucking real it hurts.

Even with that release, a soul sucking hole inside me still persists. One that only one person has ever come close to filling—or ripping wider, depending on whether I can work up the guts to face him after losing.

Noah and I are overdue for a long talk anyway. After the performances between both of us tonight, there is so much that needs to be said, and he made a pretty graphic case to remind me that not all fires can die.

I wrap both arms around my friends’ necks and squeeze, starting to feel a proud smile tug at the corner of my lips. I sneak one last glance at the glowing stage through the closing exit doors. The other bands from tonight are crowded up there, backslapping and handing off drinks, giving congrats to their performances.

Meanwhile, we step into the cicada throbbing darkness.

I don’t know why I care so much. So fucking what if I didn’t snag that winners’ envelope tonight? At least I defeated my own internal monster and took that first step toward owning my voice. Winning my battle against the microphone is progress worth celebrating.

My lips attempt an optimistic smile that derails into a grimace around the halfway point. Ugh, who am I kidding? Second place sucks and there is no way around it.

As the door crushes out the party inside, Steph gently grips my shoulders, turning me to face her. Her thin blonde brows are set into bestfriend mode.

“Roxy. Look at me,” she demands, each word a small grenade lobbed at my feet. “We. Kicked. Ass. Like, seriously. We played great. We put absolutely everything into that performance and we killed it. You were amazing on drums. Daniel was so good at the bass”—Daniel contributes an enthusiastic nod, miming playing bass—“we gave it our all, and we came really close to winning. Do you know how much guts it takes to get up on stage and do that? We have nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing. You should be really proud of yourself.”

“I know,” I sigh, the neon light making my sweat shine blue. I really am proud of us.

“Listen to your girls, Roxaroo,” Daniel says in that tone he thinks sounds intimidating. “I’m so damn proud of you 'cause you stepped up and you showed everybody what you can do. You rocked the house. Literally.”

Danny still mimes the god awful air bass as I roll my eyes. He won’t stop until I laugh though, the punk.

“I am proud we got up there.” I arch my neck back to face the clear sky that’s out tonight. “Our talent isn’t the issue. I can’t stop thinking about all that money slipping through our fingers.” I shake my head, pinching my thumb and forefinger together. “We were this freaking close.”

“I wish you could have gotten it, too. You deserve it.” Stephanie pulls me into a tight hug, chin hooking over my shoulder. “You can come crash at my house tonight. We’ll eat pizza and watch a movie and forget all about this.”

A chuckle presses against my raw throat as I sag into her. “Yeah. Okay. Let’s do that.”

She rubs at the back of my shoulder blade. “Good. Because I wasn’t asking for your permission, I was telling you.”

“You are the bossiest best friend.” I lean back to poke her belly. “You know that right?”

“What can I say, I’m very dominant.” Stephanie freezes, catching herself as Daniel and I exchange grinning looks. “Well, that came out very differently.”

We laugh at her mortification, her cheeks turning red until Daniel takes a step toward her.

“We know what you meant,” he leers, waggling his eyebrows. “Say, Steph, want me to give you a ride?” He gestures to the rusty hood of his beat-up Chevy Nova across the lot.

Her lips twist and her eyes slide over to me in a silent question. I’m supposed to drive her home tonight since her mom is out, but obviously they want some alone time, and with all the energy I’m sure they both still have, who am I to say no? They deserve to go have their fun after everything she’s done for me tonight, and every night before.

“Go on, get out of here.” I smile as I give her a gentle shove toward Daniel’s waiting arms. “Make sure you leave the porch light on for me. I expect the full ice cream sundae bar experience when I get there.”

“No doy.” She giggles, planting a sloppy kiss on my cheek and letting Daniel bow dramatically before he leads her off toward the parking lot with his bass and her guitar slung over one shoulder.

My way across the street only lasts about five steps before Danny suddenly doubles back, pressing a folded slip of paper into my palm. He meets my raised eyebrow with a wink and a smile I’ve never quite seen on him before.

“Special delivery from a mutual friend of ours,” he whispers, then spins to catch up with Stephanie, leaving me staring after them.

Now, what the hell is this?

I quickly unfold the mystery note, instantly recognizing Noah’s handwriting. It’s a single question that slams the breath out of me:

Meet me under our sacred tree one last time?

Holy shit.

I read the words again and again, old memories ambushing me. Noah wants to meet.

Under our tree.

That tree has witnessed so much intimate history between us now. I haven’t set foot near that park since. I really try not to look toward the pond at all.

It’s the whole reason I’ve been busting my ass day and night the past couple months, because being close to that place is too much. Bellpond’s name alone hurts too much now.

Noah’s summon is clear though, the question mark is only a formality.

What was he even thinking up there on the stage? Was he glad we lost? Relieved? Or was there a part of him that wanted us to win? I blink burning eyes.

Fuck it. If he wants to talk, then let’s talk. Let’s lay it all out on the table.

No more running. No more hiding.

I crinkle the note tightly inside my fist and head toward the parking lot. Honestly, what’s one more scar on my heart if it means closure, or even the chance of moving on?

The door to Kevin creaks open and I slide behind the wheel, fingers trembling so badly I can barely slip the key into the ignition. As the engine coughs before turning over, my gut starts second-guessing.

Maybe this is a bad idea.

I don’t listen to it though as I pull out of the lot onto empty Main Street. The pond ripples under the moon as I pass the storefronts. Then the trees at the edge of the park start getting closer, branches seeming to reach for my slow-moving car like they’re begging me to stop.

Then I see it. The tree that stands against the starry sky, leaves whispering all kinds of secrets we’ll probably never know the truth to, except our own. It’s as impressive as ever, its branches stretching up to the heavens trying to touch the face of God. Next to its huge trunk, Noah’s dirt bike is propped on its kickstand like a loyal metal horse waiting for its rider to come back.

My arms shake as I ease the car to the side of the street. Fuck, here we go. Moment of truth after being divided for so long. I press my sweaty palms together, praying to Lee Aaron as I climb slowly out of my car.

The drone of cicadas rises as I meander across the grass toward the tree, careful not to step on any daisies or black-eyed Susans growing around the area, stepping off to the side a bit to search for Noah. He’s leaning against the other side of the trunk, sitting in the dirt with his forearms on his bent knees, capping and uncapping that Sharpie he is never without.

My feet keep moving, and I try to be quiet, try to figure out what the hell to say and who’s going to break the silence first, but I don’t see the tree root sticking out of the ground until it’s too late.

I yelp as my foot catches, my arms flying out to keep my balance, and pull those blue eyes right to mine.

My cheeks burn and I cross my arms tightly over my chest once I’m on stable feet.

Slowly unfolding his body upwards and never breaking his gaze with mine, Noah rises. He slides the marker into his back pocket, his bicep flexing as he rests one arm against the bark beside him, and those two fucking curls fall into his eyes.

“You came,” he says to me exactly 145 days after we last spoke to each other. My lips shape the only possible reply.

“Like an idiot.”

“Still a brat, I see.”

“And you’re lucky I’m too tired to kick your ass for that little comment.”

We stare at each other, neither one of us moving a muscle, and the heat of Noah’s body slowly melts me from the inside out even from such a safe distance.

Then his lips curve ever so slightly, and he sinks his teeth into that lower lip I had kissed so many times. Like he wanted to laugh.

I can’t take it anymore. I turn around, and then I do the only thing I can think of.

I sprint towards him.

Driven by that stupid, minuscule smile, the thud of my footsteps kick up the dirt as I run through the grass, my hair whipping behind me. Noah’s ocean eyes go wide and then he’s moving, pushing off the tree, scrambling toward me with his arms open wide. I jump straight into him with a needy whimper, my body slamming into his so hard he lets out a small “oof” as he absorbs the impact.

His arms band around me, crushing me against the warm solid wall of his chest so tightly I can scarcely draw breath. I lose all control, as I usually do with Noah Jackson.

I’m shaking uncontrollably as I melt into his arms. God, I missed this. Missed him. The drugging heat of his skin, the boyish smell of his cologne, the way his heart pounds against mine when he wraps his arms around me.

Trembling, I press my face into his neck and breathe him in, pine filling up my senses and completely overwhelming me. Noah’s hands are everywhere, roaming over my back, my neck, my waist, sliding down to lock his arms around me. He lifts me off the ground, spinning me round and round until I’m dizzy and laughing and happy and holding on so tight around his neck.

The warm stickiness of his body and the breath of him tickling my ear is too much, and Noah’s deep laugh rumbles through his chest as my chin finds its familiar home on his shoulder.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he rasps, and the sound of his voice so close wraps around my heart. “Thought about this every goddamn night. Thought I was gonna lose my mind.”

I want to tell him everything, how much I’ve missed this, missed him, but then reality comes crashing back in, and I remember where we are. Who we are.

What’s happened between us.

I lift my head up slightly, my heart beating frantically as his fingers lightly touch the back of my hair. His eyes are searching, his head cocked slightly to the side. He keeps staring at me, the muscles in his jaw twitching as I pant against him.

Leaning my forehead against his, I squeeze my eyes shut. “Did you plan to get on stage tonight?”

“Not at all,” he whispers. “I don’t know what got into me. Watching you on stage made me want to be up there with you, even just for one song.”

“With… me?” I ask, sounding as giddy as the most teenage girl you have ever met.

Noah’s hand starts to cradle the back of my neck, his other arm still holding me up just under my ass. “Of course, with you.”

“How did you know the song then?”

“You told me it was your favorite album.”

I catch my breath, scarcely daring to believe. “And that means?”

“It means that I went and bought it the very next day and tried to learn every song off it.”

“You did?” I ask, my heart pounding harder against him.

He nods, rubbing his thumb against the side of my neck. “I did it for you, like everything else I do.”

“What did you do, sit around learning chords for every song?” I taunt, trying to be cute and hoping that he calls me a brat again.

“It was more time consuming than that, but basically, yeah,” he chuckles. “So you can imagine my disappointment when you didn’t want any of those songs for our battle performance.”

Oh, yeah. The battle .

I try to wiggle free, my hands coming down to push against his chest. He resists for a second, his arms tightening around me like he can’t bear to let go. Eventually he relents, his arms sliding away as I step back, putting some distance between us.

Safety first.

“Speaking of, how could you rejoin Iron Fillings?” I demand, voice rising. “After everything—”

Noah covers my hand with his, taking my smaller fingers in his warm, roughened grip as he steps closer. That sweet, woodsy scent I love too much engulfs me again as he tilts his chin down at me.

“Okay, before you start asking a bunch of questions, can I say something?”

I nod slowly. “Fine, you have three—no, two seconds, Jackson.”

His other hand comes up to push back a lock of my hair, his knuckles skimming my neck and making my skin tingle. I swallow at the same time his Adam’s apple bobs up and down.

“I—” His throat works convulsively, the muscle in his jaw jumping twice. “Fuck it, I’m going to say it, okay?”

“I’m listening.” My pulse races, and I can’t tell if it’s from fear or anticipation.

All I know is that standing here with Noah, his hand burning through my fingers, his eyes looking right into me, I want to hear him say anything.

I need his words like flowers need rain.

“I love you and how you make me feel,” he finally whispers, threading his fingers between mine on his chest. “I don’t like you, Roxanne. You are so fucking special to me and what we have feels bigger than simplifying it to ‘like.’ It’s deeper, more profound and meaningful than that. I’ve been trying to figure it out but you make me feel something that is not normal. You make me feel like a melody.”

My toes curl in my boots as he takes a deep breath.

“I can’t keep it in anymore. I don’t know, maybe I’m overloaded with emotion from seeing you perform tonight, but I’ve been carrying this around for too long and seeing you tonight…” He pauses, and at this point, the battle and the money go out the window. “I’ve had epiphanies and I’m not letting shit go unsaid anymore.”

Noah’s heart races against my palm as I take in his words and they bounce around my head and sink into my brain until they reach my heart.

Love . Noah Jackson loves me.

“Did you just say—”

He smooths a thumb over my shaking lips, pressing gently into the corner of my mouth. “When I was a kid, I used to daydream about what love feels like. Like, really in love, the kind I’d always hear in music on the radio, not the fake things I saw around me. And now, with you, all those feelings I imagined are real.” His eyes shine like the sun on the ocean. “It’s crazy, but I can actually feel it in my body. How calm I am, but also how jittery and excited and... happy. When I touch you, I can feel every part of you, every little hair on your body. I feel us and I know this is right.”

My knees nearly give out at his confession. I now understand what people mean when they say the wind has been knocked out of them. I want to cry, I want to laugh and yell and scream and hug him and shake him.

He rests his palm over my pounding heart as he keeps going, “I think I’ve been dreaming about loving you my whole life. Even before I knew you, before I really understood what love was or how it was supposed to feel. I was this scared, angry kid who didn’t think any of it was real because I never felt it, but I kept clinging to this... this idea of a person who could make me feel the way that I do right now.” Noah laughs, his voice shaking a little. “Turns out, I’ve been dreaming about you all along.”

A smile breaks across my face and I’m almost laughing now. My heart’s doing backflips in my chest and I’m freaking out over how loud it’s beating. How loud being loved feels.

“I still do.” Noah tilts my chin up, whispering close to my lips, “And every night, I’m falling in love with you all over again.”

I still can’t speak. I’m lost in his eyes. This beautiful soul sucker who makes me feel alive when I feel the most dead inside. He’s looking back at me with such affection, such depth of feeling.

What do I do? Do I kiss him? Can he tell what I want to do? Can he read my mind? He’s still staring at me! Why can’t I say anything? Why does it feel so overwhelming to be so loved? How do I turn all my bottled up feelings into action?

My hand starts to brush that curl out of his eye, tracing the line of his jaw lightly. And even though I’m shaking like a leaf, I have to say it.

“Noah Jackson,” I manage weakly, my hand still gently on his face. “I think you’re my reason.”

His eyebrows scrunch together, and I smile at his confused look.

“I’ve always believed that everything happens for a reason,” I barrel on. “All the hard stuff and the bad things I’ve been through, all the choices I’ve made, all the close calls, all the nights spent throwing my two cents in a wishing well… They’ve all led me here. To this moment with you. If my life had gone differently, if I zigged instead of zagged, I might be living in another town or playing in a different band with other people. But I’m here, and I can’t help but feel like I was meant to find you. You are my reason.”

Tears sting at the back of my eyes, but I blink them away furiously, determined to get this out before my heart beats out of my chest. “But that’s not all,” I whisper, free hand coming up to curl around the side of his neck. “You’re my dream, too. The one I never knew I had until I met you. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.” A tear traces a hot path down my cheek. “You’re in my veins now. You’re the blood in my heart and the first thought when I wake up and the last before I close my eyes at night. You’ve become a part of me, as essential as the air I breathe. Like oxygen, I need you. I dream of you. This has to be a dream because I’m a pond scum kid and you’re the last person on this planet I thought would ever love me, and somehow, you do.”

“How?” Another tear falls, and I’m shaking my head in amazement. “How? I don’t get it.”

In one smooth move, Noah grabs my waist and lifts me up against him like I weigh nothing, my toes dangling inches off the ground. I know, without a single doubt, that I’m exactly where I’m meant to be—in Noah’s arms, forever.

“How could you not know how much I want you?” he asks roughly. “How you set me on fire with just a look?”

“Show me,” I plead senselessly, consumed by him. “Make me believe this is real.”

A low sound rumbles in his chest and it feels like I’m about to faint, but then his lips are on mine beneath our oak tree and I stop thinking at all.

We kiss with one-hundred and forty-five days of pent-up longing, two-hundred and eighty-one days of passion, and stars explode behind my closed eyes as our dreams finally fuse into reality.

Reality is so fucking good.

I never want to sleep again. I want to stay drowning in the slick slide of his lips and tongue, the sharp nip of his teeth. He kisses me like he’s a starving man and I’m his last meal, deep and wet and filthy. I’ve never been kissed like this in my life.

The words spill from my heart. “I love you.”

A simple phrase that feels all at once too much and too little.

“I love you.” The words slip out into the air again, sounding like thunder in my ears, an explosion of everything I’ve ever wanted. I squeeze him tight, pressing kisses to the corner of his jaw. “I love you. I need you. Only you, always you.”

“I love you, sunshine,” he says into my hair, the words a sacred vow, a holy prayer. “I’ll never let you go again. I swear it.”

I respond with teeth and tongue, nipping at his bottom lip. He groans into my mouth, the sound shooting straight to my core, and his arms around me tighten.

We stay latched onto each other, him lifting me up higher until my chin is on top of his head. Noah keeps trailing kisses along my jawline, down my neck and across my collarbone as I giggle, so out of breath.

“You learned an entire album because you loved a girl?” I tease. “What a nerd you are.”

He nuzzles into the sensitive spot below my ear as the cicadas sing and the stars wheel overhead.

“Yeah. What can I say? When you see my love for music, it’s actually a mask for my love of you.” His lips press under my jaw. Laughing, I smooth back his rumpled hair. “But the more important part isn’t that I went out of my way to learn an entire album just for you, but that I’d go out of my way for you. That I’d do anything for you.”

My laughter fades away as his lips find mine again. I melt against him. Literally, every muscle in my body relaxes, and the weight I’ve been carrying around for so long has floated off of me like a dandelion clock blown by a wish. Noah is the one who breaks away first, letting me drop back down but never letting me get away.

I gasp when he starts walking me backward, my hands still tangled in the soft silk of his hair.

“You… what—are we?” I smile, so giddy I’m about to laugh.

“We’re inevitable. Unavoidable.” His hands gently frame my face, backing me up against the tree. “We’re whatever you want us to be. Friends, lovers, a couple, anything, whatever works.”

He pauses and my heart pounds faster and faster.

“All I know is that there’s nothing in the world that would make me happier than knowing that me and you are... Well, something.”

I reach up and take his hands from my face, holding them against my chest. I look directly into his beautiful blue eyes that glow like blue moons and lean in.

“I think we both know we’ll never just be friends,” I whisper. “But I want to be something with you if you’ll have me.”

My eyes flick over to his dirt bike still propped in the grass, and I think that sometimes, the best rides come on two wheels instead of four hooves. White horses are overrated anyway.

My back arches against the bark as he presses closer. “You are my something forever,” he says. "And nothing excites me more than our forever. Which is why I did this…”

He pulls something out of his back pocket and hands it to me. My eyebrows knit together as I take what looks like a folded envelope from him, peeking inside to see green.

So much fucking green. A big stack of green.

“You asked me why I got back with Iron Fillings,” he goes on as I gape down at $1000 in cash, “and it was because I wanted to make sure you got your money. I told them I wanted the cash if we won, and they could take the record deal and the glory.”

“What?!” I shriek. Noah winces, but his eyes crinkle at my gobsmacked expression. “I can’t take this!”

“You can. And you will .”

My hands fly up to my mouth. I’m trying to find the words to express how much this means to me and how much I love that he would even do this for me, but I can’t find any.

God, why can’t I find any words tonight?

I do the only thing I can and pull him into a hug. This has to be a dream, right? How can I have everything I’ve ever wanted? And I got the boy?

The boy. My boy.

My something forever.

When I pull back, Noah gently brushes wispy hair off my wet cheek, smiling with so much love my chest tightens. “If you have to leave to follow your dreams, I wanted you to have this as a gift to make it a little easier. I honestly can’t think of anyone who deserves it more.”

“Noah Jackson,” I whisper, still safely wrapped in his arms against the tree.

So many thoughts and questions, but my lips and the words I want to say can’t match the speed of light. I am still. I am in awe of the world around me. Of this moment. Of him.

“But, I’ll only give it to you on one condition.”

And there we go.

“You’re still really insufferable, I see.”

“I know,” he says with a low hum, tucking hair behind my ear. “I’ve missed you saying that.”

With my top teeth tucking back my own smile I say, “Fine, let’s hear this condition then.”

His palms bracket me against the oak tree as he touches his forehead to mine. “I want to come with you.”

“You want to come with me?”

“That’s what I said.”

I rise up on my toes to cradle his jaw, stroking his mouth with my wondering thumb. “I don’t even know where I want to go yet.”

“I’ll go anywhere with you. We can road trip to fucking Canada. I don’t care.” Noah turns his head, pressing a kiss to my palm. “I want to see you every day, and I want to see you tomorrow, and the day after that.”

“We can go to Canada.” My hand pulls him in by his vest and I start raining kisses around his chain. “And then the next place. And the place after that.”

One of his arms drops from the tree and bands tight around my hips. “We’ll hit every damn continent until we find our place.”

“And every country?” I smile against the vein in his neck, his heart pounding like crazy against his skin. “Every city. Every. Street.”

“Every street corner.”

“Every road, every turn.”

“And every room,” he whispers, the two inches between our lips feeling like forever. “Every bathroom stall.”

I laugh at that, pulling back to find his eyes dark and thinking about all of the trouble we can get into in each gas station stall.

“What?” Noah argues with an unsteady grin. “Need to christen new places properly.” He slides a finger above the top button of my vest and tugs me back into him. “I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying to kiss you in every way possible, and then when I’ve done that, I’ll figure out some new way to say I love you.”

“And I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying to kiss you back.” I fist both hands in his vest, careful to not crumple the envelope, and guide his lips back to mine where they belong.

“I love you,” he murmurs then, his stormy eyes inviting me in, the windows to his heart wide open.

My hands find his jaw again as if they were made to fit there, both of our smiles so big on our cheeks while we see a love so deep and powerful and unstoppable as the wind rustling through the leaves of our sacred tree.

“I love you too. With all my heart.”

Noah takes one of my hands and presses a kiss to my wrist. “And I love you with everything I am.”

“Promise me something?” I ask. At his nod, I continue, “We have to promise that from now on, no matter how bad things get or how lost we feel… we’ll deal with it together. No putting on brave faces, no more running, and no more hiding. If we’re drowning, we say it.”

He’s it for me. I need him as much as I hope he needs me.

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” he murmurs, using a thumb to gently brush away the tear tracks on my cheek. “No filters, no giving up. We’re all in, no matter how ugly it gets. And we sure as hell don’t give up on each other because I can’t make it without you in my corner. You’re stuck with me, Roxanne. Whether you like it or not.”

I laugh, weak with relief, and the smile he gives me then seems to light up the night.

When he bends to kiss me, it’s a kiss like the leaves changing colors—simple and natural. There's no hurry, only this feeling that blankets me in the warmth of my favorite hoodie on a chilly fall night.

“You know, if we road trip together, there’s going to be some conditions,” I tease, sliding my arms up and around his neck, touching the taut cords of muscle, the silky curls at his nape.

His hands settle on my hips, his fingers playing with the edge of my top. “I think I can live with that. Go on.”

“First rule,” I begin, clearing my throat all official-like. “You have to let me be DJ and let me play whatever I want on the radio.”

“First of all, I get a say in that music occasionally too, right?”

I ignore him, charging ahead. “And second, we’re required to stop at every donut shop en route so I can sample their wares.”

“Is this trip for you or your stomach?” I smack his shoulder and his smile turns sweet. “Second one, fine. Anything for my gremlin.”

I tap my chin, trying to hide my own lovesick smile. “Which brings me to rule number three...”

“Which is?”

“If we’re going to be in a car together for hours on end, I’m going to need to touch you.” I trace my fingers in circles over his heart. “A lot. I need you to be touchable. Everywhere.”

Noah licks his lips, grinning. “I definitely think that rule can be fulfilled.”

“That only leaves one more rule,” I say gravely. “And it’s going to be the hardest to follow.”

He rocks back dramatically as if I’d slapped him instead of kissed his palm ten minutes ago. “Is this the rule where you try to kill me with anticipation before actually saying it?”

Keeping my face as blank as possible, I announce, “Rule four. I will never stop telling you how much I love you.”

“No!” He gasps, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead. “Anything but that one! Constant love and affection? How will I cope?”

I shake my head and bite my lip. “Think you can handle all that?”

“With you?” Noah takes a moment to look me up and down, pausing on my throat swallowing. “No problem at all.”

His thumb caresses my wrist and warmth ripples up my arm. I take a steadying breath.

“Good. So…”

He tilts his head, our faces hovering inches apart. “So?”

“So…” I look him dead in the eyes. “I’m in.”

We both glance up as the oak leaves rustle above like they’re applauding us. This is our spot—Bell and Pond’s hangout—where lovers have been meeting up for ages, braving the elements for a chance to be together and plotting their getaways.

Noah and I are the modern inheritors of that legacy, carrying on the traditions written here in the ancient bark against my back. This old tree and town witnessed him patiently showing me the beauty of thunderstorms to help me overcome my fears. Now it would see us take off together towards unknown places.

To Canada, apparently.

His hand slides against my neck, thumb pressing between my ear and jaw, and he kisses me so soft and sweet. I tilt my head back, tasting eternity in that meeting of lips and tongue. Tasting a harbor where my heart can finally rest and shelter from life’s rain.

“Where to first on this donut quest, RoRo?” Noah asks with a smile pressed to my cheeks. I scrunch my nose at that nickname but can’t help loving him more for it.

“I don’t know. Any ideas?”

“I hear Iceland is nice in the summertime.”

I bark out a laugh. “Iceland? What are you going to do in Iceland?”

“I’m going to love you in Iceland, that’s what,” he says, finger tapping at my nose.

My hand slips under his vest, fingertips trailing up his ribs. “Is that a promise?”

“More of a fact than a promise,” he swears. “I’m not good at a lot of things, Roxanne. But there is one thing I’m really fucking good at. I think you could say it’s my calling in life...” He leans in until our noses touch, thumbs hooking into my cut offs as he closes his eyes.

“And what’s that?”

Noah’s eyes flutter open, blue as a summer sky with a smile twice as bright. “Being your biggest fan.”

“My biggest fan?”

Lub dub.

“Your biggest fan.” His nose brushes against mine, those blue eyes submerging me. “Your biggest fan, now until forever.”

Lub dub. Lub dub.

I melt against him, fitting my body to his like we were made for each other. And as we sink down to the soft grass, I start to think that maybe we were.