Chapter 3
Erica
If we can get through this night without Vann getting in a fight, it will be a freaking miracle. He’s been verbally sparring with Max—and anyone who comes within his barking range—all night, and he’s drunk enough to think he’s got a chance at winning whatever fight he causes.
The first couple of bands have come and gone, and we’re getting antsy waiting for Atlantica to take the stage.
My anxious energy isn’t entirely from waiting for the bands; I’m genuinely worried Vann is going to do something stupid.
I have a sinking, sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, gnawing at me.
The crowd is trickling back to the stage from having gone for snacks, drinks, and bathroom breaks.
Since we weren’t obsessed with the last band, we also went to grab a drink during their last two songs to get back in time.
We don’t want to miss a second of Atlantica.
And by we, I mean Max and me. Vann has basically been doing his own thing tonight, apart from barking orders or throwing nasty looks our way.
Max has also had enough to drink by now that every time Vann says or does something, she’s giving me a look or mumbling under her breath.
It’s not that I disagree with her. I can hardly stand him myself anymore, but if she reacts or does anything, she won’t have to deal with the aftermath.
I will. I’m the one that has to go home with him because I’m too afraid and insecure to leave him.
Squealing pulls me from my spiraling thoughts.
I notice that it’s because the band is coming out and about to start the show.
Bach is perching himself behind his drum set.
Fish is strapping on his guitar. Scooter stops in front of his mic and pulls the strap of his five-string bass guitar over his head.
Then there’s Ari, strutting to his spot on the stage in front of his signature purple coral reef mic stand.
Immediately and inexplicably, all my worries about Vann and my life slide from my skin with the salt of my sweat.
A calmness settles over my heart as the music comes to life and washes over me.
My head tilts back just slightly, eyes closed, and I feel like I can take a deep breath for the first time all day.
Max joins me wordlessly, linking her elbow with mine and drawing my attention to her. When our eyes meet, we both smile, and the energy shifts once more. The calm is replaced with nostalgia and happiness to relive these moments with my best friend.
As the music swells, ready for Ari to join in, we start jumping up and down, fists in the air with the rest of the massive crowd of people.
“How are we doing tonight, California?!” Ari half sings, and half screams, into the mic, carrying out the last syllable.
His voice lights up my body, sending a shiver down my spine.
I have no business feeling this way about a man that isn’t the boyfriend I live with, but I can’t help it.
And it’s not like anyone actually has a chance with their celebrity crush anyway, so I tell myself it’s just a physiological response to the music.
“Please see me. Please hear me!” He sings.
A weird thing happens where part of the crowd seems to be in a trance while the band plays, or maybe I’m imagining things, and they’ve just had too much to drink.
“What happens if this is all in my head?”
Max and I sing along to every word, wailing at the top of our lungs, bouncing and swaying with the crowd, even if her eyes still do that weird zone out thing.
As we carry the last note of the song, all of the oxygen is sucked from my body as Ari’s eyes meet mine. The world stops, then spins viciously.
“When I look into your eyes.”
I expect his eyes to move on, to keep scouring the faces in the sea of people. But they don’t. They remain locked on mine, even as the music stops and people begin to chatter and stare.
I realize a heartbeat too late that if the crowd has noticed us staring at each other, Vann may have, too.
He lurches into my line of sight, eyes blazing and looking a bit wild.
I try to look away, but he snatches my chin in a bruising grip.
“What the fuck are you looking at, Erica?” he yells in my face, spittle flying everywhere and splatting against me.
The rage is as strong as the alcohol on his breath.
Max jumps into action before my brain has time to fully register the situation that I’m in. She shoves Vann back with both hands, yelling, “That’s it, you giant bag of dicks. I’ve had enough of the way you treat her, and you will not continue to do so in my presence. Do you under-fucking-stand me?”
Vann stumbles over himself, and I half worry, half hope, that he’ll fall over and crawl away to lick his wounds and his ego, but this isn’t a fairy tale, and I should know better.
He manages to keep himself upright, index finger already pointed and ready to tell Max exactly what he thinks, but she sees him coming and doesn’t let up.
I know there’s a lot of things she’s been packing away that she’s wanted to say to him over the last few years, and I have a sinking feeling it’s all about to come loose.
She doesn’t even get a chance because he charges her, grabbing her shoulders.
I scream and lunge at them because this is getting worse by the second.
The crowd surrounding us is now losing their shit as well, trying to pull Vann away from Max.
I finally make it beside them, trying to wedge myself between their bodies, to get Vann away from Max.
This is all my fault, I think as I see Max’s red face, furious eyes, and her intentionally cut band shirt now ripped.
The anger rises within me. I’m so mad at myself for staying with someone who has treated me so badly, who put his hands on my best friend, and is making this kind of scene.
People are yelling all around us when I finally yank Vann’s arm from Max so I can slide between them to push him away.
To protect her like she’s always trying to protect me. Which she shouldn’t have to do.
I turn to check on her. She’s panting and mad, but she doesn’t look hurt other than the angry red fingerprints on her arms. I don’t even get to turn all the way back around before something crashes into the side of my head, just behind my ear.
Pain slices through me as the world tilts, then turns black.