Chapter 7 Wren #3
Phin stands back up to reach his mic just in time as we all harmonise the chorus.
My voice sores and the adrenaline I usually feel in an arena stage vibrates in my bones.
The boys carry out the fill in the song and I return to center, slotting my mic back onto the stand and find Robin's eyes sparkling at me.
She has an iron grip on Cardinals arm as if to keep him firmly placed next to her.
Despite their close proximity, she's not paying him an ounce of attention—in fact he looks like he's trying so hard to pretend like he'd rather be anywhere else, even with his fingers tapping his thighs to the beat. A cockiness I'd like to excuse as confidence takes over me and I wink at her, causing her to bite down on her bottom lip and it almost sends me feral, so much so that I have to turn around just to collect myself. I blankly fight over what the next lyrics even are because that’s what she does to me; tilts me completely upside down and I’m powerless to fight it. Stalking forward back to the mic, I continue to sing, reaching the perfect set of lyrics to roll my eyes directly into Corbin’s icy glare—he's the only one not singing along in the crowd of guests. We reach the second chorus and everyone raises their voices, the guys once again harmonising with me as we carry each other through. The bridge finally hits and the group quietens, Phin hitting the acoustic softly after plucking a few notes. My voice dips, deepening into a hushed tone and I find myself just taking her in. The lights blur in my outer vision, the twinkling stars and streamers hanging from the trees above cease to move. Time almost halts, like we're hovering between a dimension, my soul ripped open for only her to explore. I might have everyone’s attention, but she’s completely captivated mine.
Smiling shyly, the unfamiliar feeling has me looking down and I hitch my voice higher than it naturally is supposed to go.
I could pass the microphone to one of the girls to sing this part, but I kind of want to make Robin smile or even laugh.
A giggle escapes her and I hear it over the band.
My smile cracks even wider, especially when she drops her grip from his arm and holds onto my blazer.
The way she looks at me, there’s no hesitation or fighting what we could have.
I can’t explain how, but I know she can feel whatever this is between is too.
If I was playing dumb I’d just call it sexual tension, but it’s so much more than that, like the stars are watching our fated collision from above.
We finish the song on a total high.
The guys convince me to stay and sing a couple more songs, before I’m finally allowed to leave the makeshift rug stage.
After our first song I’d wanted to slip back to the table, but Phin wasn’t having any of my escape tricks.
Even when I scratched my throat and dramatically looked around for a drink, he threw a screw cap bottle of water at me.
We finish up a cover of Semi-Charmed Life by Third Eye Blind, and I slot the microphone into the stand, slapping a hand on Jay’s shoulders as he leans the bass guitar next to an amp.
He’s been our guitar tech since we first formed the band, but he plays like he came out of the womb able to do so.
Moving behind him, I exit to the side through the tree coverage.
Glittery gold stars and streamers hang low, meaning I have to duck a little, cursing as they lightly pepper me in the face.
Slightly disoriented to my whereabouts, I scan the gardens; most of the guests are now dispersed in little groups, some standing at the bar.
I immediately spot Robin who is standing with both Lily and Mavis, a cocktail shaker rattling in the blonde's hands as she pours an unnaturally pink concoction into three glasses.
All three take the cocktails and knock them together, both taking a sip whilst Lily watches. They wince in unison.
Walking up the cobbled path I veer onto the grass, making a beeline for them. Her back is to me and I lean into her space, my elbow on the bar as I rest my chin on my knuckles, the chunky rings biting a little.
“What did you think of the song, Wife?” She spins around and I’m met with wide doe like eyes, clearly taking her by surprise.
A red flush coats her cheeks and she mindlessly sips the cocktail, wincing again like she forgot it’s not to her taste.
Putting the glass down, I swipe it from the bar top and give it a sip.
I don’t drink alcohol, but I’m so curious as to why she doesn’t like it.
A strong note of watermelon is overpowered by a disgusting amount of what I think is vodka, but also something sour.
I wince too, having to swallow or else I’d be in danger of spitting it out in front of all three of them. That’s just gross.
“Lily that’s fucking awful.”
She shrugs a shoulder, amused. “I’m surprised you can’t handle it.”
She still hasn’t taken a sip of her own drink, so maybe she just doesn't want to admit it tastes bad.
I lean over and grab two glass bottles of cola, using the bottle opener to crack one open and then offer the other towards Robin.
I lift an eyebrow and she nods, the flush dying down on her cheeks as she coughs.
Doing even the smallest of things for her stokes a pleased fire inside me, remembering the guys said she appreciates acts of service and I can definitely cater to that.
“Oh, I don’t think there isn’t anything Wrenny can’t handle. Isn’t that right?” A sultry voice purrs from behind, causing me to flinch and spill a splash down myself. It’s my turn to flush now, as I wipe a flat palm down my shirt and finally take a steader sip.
Completely unphased that all three women shift uncomfortably, Willow sweeps long curls from her shoulder and fiddles with the straw bobbing in her glass. “What? We’ve been on some harder stuff before than a little pink drink.”
I go to speak, but I’m stopped by the adorable snort that comes out of Robin. “I doubt that. Wren doesn’t drink alcohol.”
I’m floored. Stunned. It’s my turn to look down at her doe eyed in astonishment. “How did you work that out?”
She shrugs shyly. “You’re not drinking—well, you haven’t had any alcohol all day.
Phin didn’t attempt to pour you any and there’s a bottle of non alcoholic champagne on the drinks table.
” The brain of this woman. I’ve never met anyone so observant; no wonder her crime fiction novel is woven together so intricately with details.
I’m not half way through yet, but there are so many possible pathways her main character has to explore to unearth the murderer.
Willow tuts and leans past me, glaring at her. “Don’t be dim. Wren’s thrown some of the wildest parties, he obviously—”
“No she’s right. I’ve been sober my entire life actually, never touched a drop.
Well, that ghastly cocktail doesn’t count.
I just wanted to know why you didn’t like it.
” Still marvelled, I’m trying to hide the wonder in my expression before I scare her off.
My sobriety probably is a giant head fuck for some people.
The media portrays me as a rock and roll bad boy; drinking hard, partying and sleeping with anything that has a pulse.
I’ve never corrected any of them, I shouldn't have to.
The fake narrative the press sells lets me mask the people I love, like Phin.
The first time I took the fall for a stupid, out of control party he threw, I allowed this monster media storm to be created.
To my shame I've always enabled him, and I don't know how to stop.
“If you don’t drink, why does everyone think you’re this massive party boy?” Robin’s question breaks me out of the guilty haze that tries to eat me alive, as always.
“My love, I’m not a boy.” I wiggle my eyebrows at her and she pushes my chest.
“Be serious.”
“Honestly, it’s easy for people to create a superficial narrative and not question what they believe is true,” I shrug.
“I’ve never corrected them. Just because I write and sing songs a bunch of people like, doesn’t mean they’re entitled to my personal life.
” It’s like I can see the clogs physically turning in her mind as she mulls my words over.
“I get that. It makes sense.”
I knock my bottle against hers, which she puts down instead of drinking. “So, you didn’t answer my question. What did you think of the song?”
“I mean you’re either incredibly behind on your top charts, or you asked Phoenix what song I wanted to hear tonight.”
“Knew it. You bloody loved every second of it.”
The more we talk the more we’ve both leaned into each other; it only just registered to me that one of my curls is touching her temple. I’ve slowly lent further against the bar so that we’re eye level, and she never moved from where she was pressed into my chest.
“What are you going to sing?” I ask, needing to know the answer more than I need air, which I know is insane.
Her eyes practically twinkle, “Guess.”
Straightening my legs out in front of me, I wiggle my shoes, pretending to really ponder over what her choice could be.
“Easy, Fleetwood Mac—oh, you and Phin would do a great cover of Silver Springs.” I expect to be met with excitement, a little bat of her hand against my chest or at least some form of flirting, which I hoped was happening.
What I least expect, is for Robin’s to take a giant step back as she straightens, leaving me feeling cold.
In confusion I stand straight too, frowning as her lips become a firm line.
“God, am I that predictable?” Her voice breaks slightly, the question not really aimed at me.
“I'm sorry–what?” I splutter, feeling the need to apologise but I'm not sure what for. My Phoenix-senses tingle and I look past her to see him striding across the grass to us.